[A Private Club – Midnight]

The scent of whiskey and leather lingered in the air, mixing with the low hum of music.

A private lounge—secluded, dark, dangerous. Behind tinted glass, power shifted hands, but only one man truly held control.

Rayhan Sinclair sat in his usual spot, lounging like a king on a leather couch. A glass of whiskey rested in his hand, untouched.

Across from him sat a man—sweating, shifting, foolishly confident.

Steve, stood nearby, watching the dealer fidget with a nervous smirk.

"Mr. Sinclair, no need for threats." That dealer chuckled. "We both know you wouldn't risk a war over a minor disagreement—"

Bang***

The club music drowned out the gunshot, but the message was clear.

A clean bullet hole marked the center of the dealer's forehead.

His body slumped forward, blood pooling on the table. Silence swallowed the room—except for the slow tap of Rayhan's ring against his glass.

The dancer in the corner froze mid-movement, her hands trembling.

Rayhan exhaled, shifting his gaze to her for the first time.

"Did I ask you to stop?" He spoke in his calm yet dark voice putting his gun on the glass table.

She flinched before resuming her dance, though her movements were stiff. He didn't spare her another glance.

Steve, unfazed, stepped forward, dragging the dealer's body back with practiced ease. "The clean-up team?"

"Let the rats see what happens when they bite off more than they can chew."

Rayhan continued tapping his silver ring on the edge of the glass.

Steve nodded, making a call while Rayhan finally lifted his glass to take a slow sip. His gaze was dark, unfazed, already thinking ahead.

Then Steve came near him, "Boss, What about Bredford? He's been pushing too much lately."

Rayhan smirked, setting his drink down. "Transfer him."

Steve raised a brow. "Where?"

Rayhan swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "France. He needs a change of scenery."

Steve hesitated before asking, "You sure? Sending him away might make him dig even deeper."

Rayhan chuckled, tilting his head back. "Let him. He doesn't even realize he's walking straight into the storm."

He leaned back, watching the slow swirl of whiskey in his glass.

Then he closed his eyes while his head was leaned back on the headrest of the couch.

A flicker of something unfamiliar passed through his cold brown eyes.

'Serra.'

The name hit him like a whisper from a past he thought he had buried.

His grip on the glass tightened. The image of a wild-eyed girl flashed through his mind—her black waves bouncing as she ran ahead of him, laughing like she owned the world.

-

"Ray, you're too slow!"

A girl who was in early teens spoke teasingly turning to look back at him. Her hazel eyes, bright and full of mischief, had held no idea how deeply they were etched into his soul.

"Now, catch me." A boy in late teens started running while laughing loudly and cheerfully.

He had never minded chasing after her. Until one day, she stopped waiting for him, and he stopped chasing her.

-

"Serra." Rayhan whispered this name under his breath.

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he opened his eyes while his head was still leaned back.

"Seraphina Calderon." He again whispered her name while staring at the ceiling.

The name left a bitter taste on his tongue. Once a melody, now nothing but a curse.

How foolish he had been—believing she was his to keep, believing she would stay.

She didn't.

She chose someone else.

Rayhan exhaled sharply, the warmth of his drink doing nothing to thaw the ice in his chest.

"Boss?"

Rayhan's expression hardened in an instant at Steve's voice, the softness vanishing like it was never there.

"Get it done, Steve." He commanded her in his cold voice.

Steve gave a short nod and stepped out, leaving Rayhan alone with the music, the blood-stained table, and a name he should have forgotten.

But he hadn't.

And he never would.

Hatred simmered beneath his skin, coiling like a serpent, while his grip tightened around the glass.

He spared a gaze at that Dancer.

She felt a chill in her spine and paused near the pole.

Rayhan got up from the couch, and started to go towards the VIP room.

And that dancer also started following his lead silently while her heart was trembling in her ribcage.

Seraphina Calderon was nothing but a lesson now—a reminder that weakness had no place in his world.

And if fate was cruel enough to bring her back into it… He would make sure she learned that lesson too.

He cast a fleeting gaze at the dancer.

The heavy bass of the club pulsed through the air, drowning in the haze of smoke and liquor. But for her, everything stilled the moment he looked at her.

A single glance. That was all it took.

Rayhan leaned back into the plush couch, his dark brown eyes flickering over her form—assessing, commanding, stripping away any illusion of choice.

The dancer felt a chill creep up her spine, her fingers tightening around the pole for balance. Her breath hitched as she held his gaze, her heart hammering against her ribs.

No words were spoken. None were needed.

When Rayhan stood, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive suit with a slow, deliberate grace, she knew.

This was why she was here.

He didn't wait. He didn't beckon. He simply turned, his tall frame moving with the same lethal ease as a predator retreating to its den.

And she followed.

Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she trailed behind him, her stomach twisting in a familiar mix of fear and anticipation. She had danced for countless men, played her part well enough to leave them breathless. But this was different.

Rayhan Sinclair was not a man who watched for entertainment. He watched to own.

And as the heavy doors of the VIP room closed behind them, she knew—tonight, she was his.

____________

(Character intro)

Rayhan Sinclair—A name that carried an air of mystery and danger

29 years old with 6'2 height.

he was a man who walked in the shadows yet commanded attention effortlessly.

His silver-gray hair framed a face sculpted with sharp, unforgiving edges, a beauty both haunting and lethal...

But his most striking feature was his heterochromatic eyes—one a piercing green, the other an intense blue.

A secret he kept buried from the world, hiding them behind contact lenses, masking the truth even from those closest to him...

With intricate ink trailing over his neck, whispering of a past unknown, his presence alone was enough to unsettle even the boldest.

He moved like a phantom—silent, calculating, and always a step ahead....

Feared by many, trusted by few, and understood by none...

Because he is Rayhan Sinclair—

He was not just dangerous—he was a man who never forgave, never forgot....

.

.

.

________________

To be continued

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[Paris, France]

Jane stretched her arms wide as she stepped into the motel lobby, spinning on her heels in excitement. "Finally... we're on vacation!" she squealed, her emerald eyes sparkling.

Serra, trailing behind, crossed her arms and arched an unimpressed brow. "Jane, why are you acting like a primary school kid?"

Jane pouted. "Hey, let me enjoy the moment! We're in Paris! The city of love."

Before Serra could retort, their teacher clapped her hands, calling for attention. "Alright, students, listen up. You're free to explore, but no one—and I mean no one—is allowed to go out alone. We'll tour the city together. Understood?"

The students exchanged amused glances before breaking into laughter. "As if we're gonna follow rules like kindergarten kids," someone muttered from the back.

The teacher sighed, clearly expecting such a response. "Take some rest now. See you all in the morning." Without further argument, she walked off toward her room.

Serra and Jane were about to head to their own room when Serra suddenly froze mid-step. The playful glint in her hazel eyes disappeared, her face falling in an instant.

Jane, noticing the shift, frowned. "Hey… why do you look like someone just stole your last slice of pizza?"

Serra didn't answer. Her gaze was locked on something—or rather, someone. Following her line of sight, Jane turned, and her expression instantly soured.

At the far end of the hallway, Charles was walking toward his room—with Diana Webber clinging to his arm, her blonde curls bouncing as she laughed at something he said.

Jane let out a dramatic sigh. "Oh… so that's the reason. Come on, Serra, leave that playboy already," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Serra's jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists at her sides. Her knuckles turned white, the emotions flickering in her hazel eyes unreadable.

Jane huffed, clearly exasperated. "I still don't get why you ever had a crush on that guy."

As if on cue, Diana giggled, pressing herself even closer to Charles. Her manicured fingers trailed up his chest before she wrapped her arms around his neck. "The night is going to be long," she whispered in a sultry tone.

Charles didn't react much—just gave a small smile, his expression unreadable.

Jane scrunched her nose in disgust. "Ugh. Gross."

Before she could stop her, Serra suddenly turned on her heel and marched toward them with determined steps.

Jane's eyes widened. "Serra—don't go! Come back!" she called out, but Serra wasn't listening. Jane groaned, rubbing her temples. "Uff… this girl."

By the time she looked up again, Serra was already standing before them. Without hesitation, she reached out and grabbed Diana's wrist firmly.

Diana snapped her head toward her, irritation flashing in her icy blue eyes. "What the hell do you want?!"

Charles, ever the observer, raised an intrigued eyebrow at the sudden confrontation.

Serra's lips curled into a mischievous smirk. Her next words were loud and clear. "I want you—to sleep with me."

A heavy silence fell between them.

Jane slapped her forehead. "Oh God… someone take her away before she makes it worse."

Diana's jaw dropped. "WHAT?!"

Even Charles blinked, momentarily speechless. His dark eyes studied Serra intently, as if trying to decipher whether she was serious. 'Don't tell me… she's into girls?'

Diana quickly yanked her hand away, stepping back as if Serra had just cursed her entire lineage. "Excuse me?! Have you lost your damn mind?"

Serra tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Please."

Diana's face twisted in sheer horror.

Charles smirked slightly, clearly entertained now.

And Jane—She was seriously considering dragging Serra away before things escalated any further.

Diana folded her arms, tilting her head with an exasperated sigh. "Look, I don't like you. Besides, I'm not into tomboyish-tacky girls like you."

Serra's lips curved into a slow, mischievous grin, her hazel eyes twinkling. "Awww, your voice is really sweet."

Diana blinked, her nose scrunching in disgust. "Ehh?!?"

Serra gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as if Diana had said something scandalous. "Wait... don't tell me you don't believe in your own beauty?!"

Charles, who had been quietly observing, turned his head slightly, pressing a fist to his lips, his shoulders shaking faintly. Amusement flickered in his dark eyes.

Diana huffed, flipping her golden curls over her shoulder with practiced elegance. "I know my voice is as beautiful as I am."

Serra leaned in just a little, her smirk deepening. "So… will you sleep with me now?"

Diana recoiled so fast she nearly stumbled. "Have you seriously lost your mind?!"

Charles' smirk widened, his gaze shifting between the two girls, clearly entertained.

Serra pouted, her fingers lightly toying with the hem of her hoodie. "Actually, Jane and Nick are going out, so Jane won't be in the room with me… and I can't sleep alone."

She clasped her hands together, her bottom lip jutting out in a perfect display of innocence. "Please? Will you accompany me tonight?"

Diana scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief before grabbing Charles' arm. "Shut up. That's not my headache. Charles, let's go."

Just as they turned, Serra took a step closer, lowering her voice to a teasing whisper. "I know you're a soft-hearted girl."

Diana's brows knitted together. "What?!"

Serra gasped again, her dramatic performance reaching its peak. "Do you have doubts about yourself too?"

Diana's lips parted slightly, confusion flickering in her striking blue eyes.

Charles let out a low chuckle, his lashes lowering as he studied Serra's antics with intrigue.

Serra rubbed the tip of her nose absentmindedly. "Please, Pretty Lady."

Jane, standing at a distance, groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "EW. Serra, enough! I'm done with you." With an exaggerated sigh, she shook her head and turned away. "I pity you, Diana."

Diana rolled her eyes, shifting her weight onto one hip, her irritation barely masked. "What do you want now, Serra?"

Serra placed a hand on her chest, her expression perfectly innocent. "Me? Oh, nothing much… just admiring how kind, beautiful, and generous you are."

Diana arched a brow but couldn't fully suppress the pleased smile tugging at her lips. "Well… that's true."

Serra clasped her hands together, her voice turning honeyed. "You're honestly an inspiration! So graceful, so soft-hearted. No wonder everyone in the university sees you as their ideal."

Diana's eyes sparkled, her posture straightening as she soaked in the praise. "Wait… really?"

"Of course! You truly deserve the title 'Lady Diana.'" Serra's lips curled subtly as she observed Diana's reaction.

Diana tilted her head slightly. "OMG… do students actually think that?"

Charles stood nearby, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he watched Diana get lured into Serra's trap.

Diana's mind raced. 'If I help her, Charles will definitely be more impressed. Plus, I'll be the center of attention at university.'

Meanwhile, Serra smirked inwardly. 'Yes, my plan is working.'

Diana cleared her throat, straightening her shoulders. "Alright, fine. But on one condition."

Serra's eyes widened in faux admiration. "Anything for my idol."

Diana crossed her arms, her lips curling into a victorious smirk. "You'll post on your account that Lady Diana helped you and kept you company so you wouldn't have nightmares."

Serra placed a hand over her heart, her voice laced with exaggerated emotion. "Oh, Lady Diana, your kindness knows no bounds."

Diana flipped her hair confidently. "I know."

Charles shook his head slightly, a faint chuckle escaping him as he watched Serra's effortless manipulation unfold.

.

.

.

Diana turned to Charles, her blue eyes softening as she tilted her head, a sweet, apologetic smile gracing her lips. Her manicured fingers traced along his cheek with practiced elegance.

"Sorry, baby, I can't go out with you tonight," she cooed, her voice honeyed with false regret. "You know how soft-hearted I am—I have to help my poor, helpless fellow."

Charles arched a brow, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. He knew Diana well enough to see through her act, but he played along, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile.

"No problem," he murmured, his voice smooth.

Diana grinned, pleased with his response. Looping her arms around his neck, she leaned in, her glossy lips parting slightly—

Only for Serra to snatch her wrist mid-air. "Let's go, my Lady Diana," Serra drawled, and her hazel eyes twinkling with mischief.

Diana huffed in irritation, but for the sake of keeping her ‘graceful’ image intact, she let herself be pulled away. Still, she turned back to Charles with a dazzling smile, blowing him a playful kiss. "Bye, baby! Sweet dreams!"

Charles watched them leave, his arms crossing over his chest, his expression unreadable. His gaze lingered on Serra's retreating figure, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes.

Almost as if sensing the weight of his stare, Serra glanced back for a brief second—

But Charles had already averted his gaze, his face cool and composed.

And yet, a slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

Serra exhaled, shaking her head before disappearing into the hallway, completely unaware of the glint in Charles' eyes.

[In the Room]

Serra plopped onto the bed, stretching her arms before reaching for her phone. Her lips curled into a smirk as she opened Jane's inbox.

Jane's message popped up instantly. "Serra, don't tell me you're actually going to sleep with her?"

Serra's gaze flickered toward Diana, who was standing by the mirror, inspecting the room like a queen choosing her throne.

Her smirk deepened. "Of course, Jane. Best sleep of my life tonight. 🙃" Her fingers flew across the screen as she typed.

[At a Restaurant]

Jane groaned, tossing her phone onto the table with an exasperated sigh. "This girl is impossible."

Across from her, Nicholas raised an eyebrow as he sliced into his steak with calculated precision. "What now?"

Jane shot him a look, her emerald eyes narrowing. "As if you don't already know."

Nicholas chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm just here for the morning entertainment. I can’t wait to see what Serra does to ‘Lady Diana.’"

Jane rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Not Diana. It's The Lady Diana," she corrected, mimicking Serra's exaggerated tone with perfect drama.

Nicholas smirked, tapping his fork against his plate. "Tsk. Okay, don't ruin your mood over it. You know Serra—she can handle herself." His voice was light,

but Jane caught the slight edge in it. She let out a slow breath, her expression darkening. "I just don't like Charles for her, Nick."

Nicholas leaned back, studying her with an unreadable look. "Yeah, he's got plenty of flaws, but if Serra doesn't care, what can we do?"

Jane clenched her jaw, frustration evident. "She's our friend. More than that—she's family to me. Of course, I'm concerned."

Nicholas' eyes softened slightly. Noticing the tension in her posture, he reached across the table, his warm hand covering hers.

"Jane, don't stress over it," he murmured, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. "Just enjoy your meal. I heard this place has the best steak in town."

Jane hesitated, her lips pressing together. Then, with a sigh, she finally picked up her fork. The moment the juicy, perfectly seasoned steak hit her tongue, her eyes widened in delight. A pleased hum escaped her. "Okay... this is good."

Nicholas' grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in his gaze. "Told you."

[introduction of characters]

Seraphina Calderon/Serra– The paradox of fire and ice

At 25 years old, standing 5'7, she was a striking contradiction of an innocent face masking a rebellious, untamed soul...

She wasn't the kind of woman who followed rules—but a rule breaker...!!

Black wavy hair streaked with brown framed her face perfectly, but it was her hazel eyes, encircled in black, that held an intensity impossible to ignore. And that tiny mole just below her lips? It was an unintentional invitation, a silent mark of effortless allure.

Leather jackets, ripped jeans, and combat boots were her armor, but it was the fire in her soul that truly set her apart. With a sharp tongue and a sharper mind, she walked like she owned the world and fought like she feared nothing...

Tomboy to the core clashed with undeniable curvey frame. she found freedom in speed—whether it was racing down the streets on her skateboard or dodging past obstacles with effortless precision. The thrill of the ride, the wind in her hair, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins—that was her definition of peace.

An only child of the Calderon family, she carried herself with the confidence of someone who never needed saving. Love? It was complicated. She had her heart tangled in a reckless crush on Charles Voden, yet fate had other plans...

And then there were her habits…

A Smoker who found solace in nicotine and a terrible liar, betrayed by the way her fingertips instinctively rubbed the tip of her nose whenever she bent the truth.

 ---------------

Jane Finlay– the definition of soft warmth

Wrapped in an unshakable heart, aged 24 with 5'2 height. Her long, caramel-brown waves framed a face that could soothe even the most restless souls. And her emerald green eyes, circled with a dark ring, held a depth of kindness that was rare in a world so harsh.

Loving. Caring. Selfless.

She was the type to put others first, to heal wounds—both seen and unseen.

Despite being an orphan, Jane never lets the absence of a family make her bitter. Instead, she built her own—with Serra, Nicholas, and those lucky enough to be in her life.

She was not just Serra's best friend—she was her home..

And when it came to Nicholas? Her love for him was deep, unwavering, and filled with the kind of purity that made it impossible to ignore.

But don't mistake her softness for weakness. She wasn't afraid to stand up for the people she loved.

And if you hurt them? Well, even the sweetest souls have their limits...

Nicholas Jones– soft yet fierce

Kind, loyal, and effortlessly charming. At 25 years old, standing 6'1", with a   unique shade of ash-blonde hair, stormy gray eyes, and a chiselled jawline, he carried both strength and warmth with effortless grace.

Born into wealth but valuing loyalty above all, he is Serra's best friend and Jane's devoted, caring boyfriend—a steady and loving presence everyone relied on.

But beneath his easy smile lies an unshakable will. Nicholas isn't just a lover; he's a fighter—a man who would stand against the entire world for the woman he loves. Whether it's offering a comforting hand or becoming an unbreakable shield, he will fight, endure, and protect without hesitation, and can leave any throne for his Love without giving a second thought.

Charles Voden– playboy fox

Charming, arrogant, and rich spoiled brat he was born to be.

24 Years old hunk with 6 feet height and With thick, jet-black hair, a clean-shaven jaw, and long black lashes framing his dark eyes, he was used to people staring, and low-key he enjoyed it making him more prideful...

Flirty and effortlessly confident, and collecting admirers like trophies.

and of course, Serra's crush, but Diana Webber’s boyfriend...

Diana Webber– a cunning beauty

A walking definition of allure and arrogance. With platinum blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and flawless porcelain skin, she was impossible to ignore...

At 5'8, she carried herself like royalty—graceful, confident, and always in control.

As Charles Voden's girlfriend, Diana knew how to play the game. Manipulative, sharp, and always in the spotlight, she wasn't just admired—she was envied. Attention was her oxygen, and power was her obsession...

That's all with the main cast.

Thank you for reading my story.

Xoxo 😘