Alethea sat in the velvet armchair across from Mr. Bram Albert, her palms trembling beneath the silk fabric of her gloves. The room smelled of power—leather, expensive whiskey, and polished ambition.
He leaned back, one leg casually over the other, swirling a glass of amber liquor in his hand. His eyes scanned her like property. Not a person.
"You look stunning tonight," he said, voice dripping with dark amusement. "Like something worth owning."
Alethea's throat tightened. "You summoned me for business, Mr. Albert?"
He chuckled. "Business, pleasure... It all blends together in my world, Miss Vione."
He leaned forward slowly. "Tell me something. Do you truly think you can survive this city... without a man like me protecting you?"
Alethea's jaw clenched. She remembered the rent overdue, the debt her stepfather left, the contract she never agreed to sign—but was trapped in.
"I don't need your protection," she whispered, even if her heart said otherwise.
A knock at the door cut through the tension.
It was Mr. Julian Hartley—the man in the shadows, the one who always appeared right before she shattered. His suit was dark gray, sharp as his cheekbones, and his eyes were... kind.
"Apologies, Bram," Julian said coolly, his voice a velvet blade. "But I believe Miss Vione's time is up. She has a better deal to consider."
Alethea's heart skipped.
Bram's eyes narrowed. "You're interfering again, Hartley?"
Julian smiled without warmth. "Only when you cross the line."
He turned to Alethea and offered his hand. "Come. You don't belong in this room. Not with monsters."
And in that moment, Alethea had a choice.
To dance with the devil who held her chains...
Or follow the stranger who offered her a key.
The limousine sped through the night, tires slicing across wet pavement. Alethea sat in stunned silence beside Julian, her thoughts spiraling like the city lights outside.
He hadn't spoken a word since pulling her away from Bram Albert.
Until now.
"You should never have been in that room," he muttered, eyes still on the road. "What deal did Bram offer you?"
Alethea scoffed bitterly. "My body, in exchange for freedom."
Julian's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. "Typical."
She turned to him, eyes filled with unspoken fear. "Who are you really? Why do you keep saving me?"
Julian glanced at her. "Because I know how monsters work. I was raised by one."
They stopped at a grand black building—minimalist, glass and steel. He opened the door for her. "You'll stay here tonight. It's safe. No one can touch you."
"But for how long?" she asked.
His gaze hardened. "Until I destroy them all."
Meanwhile, across the city…
Bram Albert slammed his fist onto the mahogany desk, wine spilling over antique papers.
"She left with him! That snake Julian Hartley!"
Beside him stood Leandro Vance—another billionaire, brutal and cold.
"She's becoming a liability," Leandro growled. "We made a pact. No one touches her until the auction."
"She was never supposed to have a choice," Bram spat. "But Julian's interfering. Again."
From the shadows emerged Dominik Kael, the silent sadist among them. "Then we take her back. And this time, break her properly."
Back at Julian's penthouse…
Alethea wandered into the massive room—walls lined with rare books, ancient weapons, and security monitors.
Suddenly, a glass shattered. The lights flickered.
Julian appeared instantly, gun drawn. "Get behind me."
Three masked men burst through the balcony doors, armed.
"Julian!" she screamed.
Gunshots echoed.
One attacker lunged at Alethea, pinning her down. "You should've stayed with Mr. Albert, princess."
Before she could scream, Julian tackled the man and drove a knife straight into his chest.
Blood splattered her dress.
Alethea's hands shook.
Julian turned to her, breathing hard. "You wanted to know who I am, Alethea?"
He dropped the bloodied knife.
"I'm the only one crazy enough to burn their empire down for you."
The scent of blood lingered in the penthouse.
Alethea stood frozen, her designer heels soaked in red, her breath shaky. Julian wiped the blade, calm like a man who'd done this countless times before.
"You're bleeding," she whispered, noticing a gash on his arm.
He didn't flinch. "Not mine to worry about."
"But—"
He cut her off, stepping closer. "Don't. Sympathy makes you weak in their world."
Their world.
Those words struck deep. Because somewhere in her soul, she already knew—
She was part of it now.
He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her. "You need to disappear for a while. I'll handle the rest."
She looked up at him, fire behind her fear. "No. I want to learn."
Julian tilted his head, studying her. "Learn what?"
Alethea's voice hardened. "How to make them pay."
A small, dangerous smirk tugged at his lips. "Good. Then let me show you how monsters are born."
Days later, in a secret training facility beneath Monaco...
Julian guided Alethea through a maze of screens and weapons.
She wasn't just the girl in designer dresses anymore—now she trained with precision. Knives. Guns. Surveillance. Seduction.
He taught her how to think like a predator.
"You'll face them again," he warned. "And this time, they won't see a victim. They'll see their end."
Meanwhileee...
Cassandra Myles, the first of the three traitorous "friends," stared at photos of Alethea training—leaked to her by Dominik Kael.
"She's changing. That girl isn't weak anymore," Cassandra murmured.
Sitting beside her, Emery Veil—the elegant snake in stilettos—laughed coldly. "That just makes the game more fun."
And in the corner, Veronica Cain, silent and calculating, lit her cigarette. "Then let's raise the stakes."
Back in Julian's private bunker…
Alethea locked eyes with him as the training session ended.
He handed her a diamond-inlaid dagger.
"This belonged to my mother," he said. "She was murdered by men like them."
Alethea accepted the blade without a word.
No tears.
No fear.
Just resolve.
Julian stepped closer. His voice a whisper. "Are you ready to become what they fear?"
Alethea met his gaze, her tone like ice.
"I was born to be their nightmare."
TBC..................