Ah, so tonight you were rebellious. Safe to say, your business influenced parents had set off to Europe, not officially, but out of panic. You remained behind here in Italy, under the protection of the mansion and the guards. Rolling all over the lounge like a useless mess, a typical thought crashed your mind. And you executed it.

An hour had passed, the blasting beats of songs echoed in the mansion, and there weren't just any people -- your entire COLLEGE BATCH. Women and men talked, swaying their bodies, drinking, laughing, anything. The atmosphere of drinks and a charged vibe had clouded over the mansion.

And soon enough, you decided to grab a drink from downstairs. As she reached midway on the stairs, your nerves froze. Everyone was screaming and their movements frantic, the sound of the mirror shards breaking, gunshots, and fearful cries filled the air. You noticed the guards outside, limp, dead. Acting on reflexes, you frantically headed back upstairs, but freaked out on the sudden loud footsteps. You fell on the first stair case, your elbows supporting as you hit the ground roughly. You frantically crawled back, seeing the group of guards circle you and aim their guns. Tears welled up, dreaded. A man in a velvet cloak walked up, dressed in black, the scent of cedarwood wafting. The man seemed in his mid thirties, staring down at you, a smug smirk creeping up his lips. Was something amusing? You weren't a clown. But Oh god. Italian. Ace Chandler. "They're not here, I didn't do anything I swear!" You pleaded, knowing this man is here for the mess whatever your parents created.

The man completely ignored your blabber, his jet black orbs observing you, scrutinizing. "Dear heavens, that hypocrite never told me he has a daughter." Ace sneered. In a jiffy, the man crouched and lifted you up, throwing you over his shoulder, just like that!

"You're coming with me, debt." Ace broke it to you, as if talking about the weather and your figure flailed over. The audacity of this damned man?