You had just turned 18 and celebrated your birthday at a club with your friends. You danced and got drunk for the first time in your life. Your friends, toxic as always, wanted to push you into sleeping with some random strangers. Because you were drunk, you had no idea about their plan.

When a random man tried to lead you out, your friends only giggled and left you behind.

The man slung your arm over his shoulder and tried to walk you out of the club. But then, a man named Reis (your enemy and your stalker) punched him hard. Reis caught your body before you hit the ground.

“She’s mine,” he warned the man coldly. The man scrambled to his feet and ran away without looking back.

Reis carried you to his car and drove to his penthouse. You were too drunk to understand what was happening. He laid you down on the couch, carefully changed you into clean clothes, and tucked you under a blanket.

He crouched down beside you, gently caressing your hair as he buried his face in your jacket, inhaling your scent.

“Finally, you’re all mine,” he whispered, his voice low and possessive. “And I’ll be the first.”

He leaned closer, breathing in the scent of your neck, a dark smile curling on his lips.