chapter 1

The venue was nothing short of breathtaking — an extravagant hall draped in soft ivory curtains, crystal chandeliers dripping from the ceiling like frozen rain, and tables adorned with golden candles and fresh peonies. Cameras flashed non-stop. Guests in glittering gowns and tailored suits sipped expensive wine. Soft jazz music played in the background.

A huge banner read:

"Happy 24th Birthday, Anastasia Kim Volkov!"

She stepped out of her sleek black car — a luxury chauffeur opening the door for her. Paparazzi and guests turned their heads. The MC had arrived.

Anastasia — effortlessly stunning — dressed in an off-shoulder silk ivory gown hugging her modelesque figure, her silver heels clicking elegantly on the marble floor. Long brunette hair with soft waves cascading down her back — a true celebrity entrance.

Flashing lights.

"Happy birthday, Stasia!"

"You look gorgeous!"

"Goddess!"

Fans and family friends rushed to give her expensive gifts — from jewelry boxes to designer bags. Her two best friends — Minji and Elena — linked arms with her, whispering gossip.

"Where’s your boyfriend though?"

Minji asked, scanning the crowd.

Anastasia’s fake smile faltered for a second.

"I’ve been looking for him too… strange..."she replied.

Then... HE appeared.

Standing by the bar, leaning casually with a glass of champagne —

Alessandro Daehyun Romano.

Half Italian, Half Korean. 198 cm of pure devilish perfection. Jet black hair slicked back, sharp jawline, obsidian eyes that could drown you. Dressed in a black suit with no tie — like he owned the place. The youngest CEO of "AUREL Entertainment" and also the CEO of "Velur Maison" – a luxury fashion house

Anastasia’s eye twitched.

"UGH!! Who even invited that devil?"Anastasia hissed under her breath.

Elena snickered. "Apparently your mother... remember? Family friends."

Before she could escape — Alessandro walked towards her. Slow. Confident. Dangerous. That annoying little smirk playing on his lips.

"Happy Birthday, brat,"he said in his husky, teasing voice.

Anastasia rolled her eyes so hard it could’ve cracked marble.

"What are you doing here?"she asked coldly.

He tilted his head mockingly. "Why wouldn’t I be? I'm practically family. Unlike your ghost boyfriend."

Her jaw clenched. "No — our parents are friends. We are not."

"Besides, I’d rather get bitten by a snake than talk to you."

She turned sharply, hair whipping his face slightly, and strutted away to greet other guests — leaving Alessandro chuckling quietly, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"Still so feisty... guess some things never change,"he muttered to himself.

As the party buzzed with live music and dancing, Anastasia’s heart still quietly wondered: Where the hell is Tae-min?

Before she could get lost in her thoughts again, a spotlight hit the stage and the host of the night handed the mic over to someone new. All eyes turned as her mother, the former legendary actress Soo-jin, stepped forward, stunning in a pearl gown with her classic red lipstick and diamond choker.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, beaming into the mic. “I have a special announcement to make tonight—not just about my daughter’s birthday, but also... her future.”

Anastasia blinked.

“As many of you know, our families have been close for decades,”Soo-jin continued. “And we believe in love, legacy, and loyalty. So today, I’m honored to share... that our beloved Anastasia will soon be engaged to Alessandro Moretti!”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Then—gasps, claps, cheers.

Cameras flashed. Guests clinked glasses. Alessandro lifted his glass casually, pretending to look surprised, but a small glint in his eyes betrayed him—he knew. He knew all along.

Anastasia just stood there, her champagne glass trembling slightly in her hand. Her jaw dropped. “What…?”

She turned to her mother. “What are you talking about?” she said, her voice rising—but her mom was already posing for the cameras, soaking in the applause and flashing her megawatt smile.

Anastasia stepped forward, trying to get her mother’s attention. “Mom—Mom! What is this? This isn’t funny.”

Her mother waved her off, still waving at reporters. “Smile, darling, this is a beautiful moment—”

Then Anastasia snapped.

“ENOUGH!!”

The mic screeched from the power of her voice.

“ENOUGH!!” she repeated, this time trembling with rage, tears welling in her eyes.

The entire room fell deathly silent.

All eyes turned to her. Champagne glasses paused mid-air. Even the music stopped.

“No marriage is going on,”she shouted, her voice cracking. “I’m not getting married—not to him!” She pointed at Alessandro, whose smug expression faltered slightly.

“I’d rather die than marry that asshole!”Her voice trembled, and so did her hands.

Her mother’s smile froze.

And then, with a choked breath, Anastasia turned and ran—heels pounding, heart shattered. She shoved past guests, ignoring their gasps and whispers, rushing outside into the cool night air. Her vision blurred with tears as she jumped into her car and sped away.

Where was Tae-min?

She needed him. She needed someone real.

“Oh my God, what is going on?”one of the guests gasped, her diamond-studded clutch pressed tightly to her chest. Murmurs and whispers began to ripple through the grand ballroom like a tidal wave. All elegance and poise cracked under the weight of scandal.

“Did she just reject the engagement?”

“Was this… not planned?”

“She shouted in front of everyone—how humiliating for the families.”

Phones were already out, eyes wide, fingers recording, texting, capturing every inch of the drama. The glittering chandeliers overhead seemed to tremble with the tension in the air.

Meanwhile, Alessandro Romano stood tall amidst the chaos, untouched by the storm. His expression was unreadable at first—stoic, unmoved—like the eye of a hurricane. His sharp jawline tensed slightly, his eyes fixed on the grand doors Hana had just stormed out of.

Then, he spoke.

“I’ll go after her.”His voice was deep and calm, yet it sliced through the murmurs like a blade. Controlled. Cold. Certain.

“Wow… such a good fiancé,”someone murmured nearby, their voice filled with awe and pity.

“She’s lucky. I wish someone would run after me like that.”

“He’s so patient with her tantrums. A real man…”

But if anyone had been looking closer, they would’ve seen it—the flicker of dark excitement in his eyes. The faint, crooked grin curling at the edge of his lips. There was no panic. No frustration. No worry. Just one thing: possession.

Alessandro’s long strides echoed across the marble steps as he exited the ballroom, his black coat flaring slightly with each movement. The air outside was cooler, but it only sharpened the fire burning behind his dark gaze. The valet saw him approaching and rushed to retrieve the car.

And then, it emerged like a beast from the shadows.

His Black Bugatti La Voiture Noire, sleek and sinfully expensive, gleamed under the moonlight. The epitome of power, luxury, and danger—all in one machine. The car looked more like a creature from a legend than a vehicle, its sharp lines and dark paint absorbing the light like a black hole.

Alessandro didn’t wait. He opened the door smoothly, slid into the driver’s seat like a king returning to his throne, and closed the door with a heavy thunk.

For a moment, the world was silent around him.

He leaned forward, both hands gripping the leather-wrapped steering wheel. The low hum of the engine vibrated beneath him, ready to obey his every command. His jaw clenched, and his chest rose with a slow inhale. Then, his fingers moved back through his thick hair, brushing it away from his face.

And then it came—the grin.

Slow. Dangerous. Possessive.

His lips curled like a man who had just won a game he’d been playing for years.

His eyes gleamed with something dark and primal, almost glowing beneath the shadows of the dashboard.

A soft, low chuckle slipped from his throat—so quiet it was almost a whisper.

“Finally…”he muttered to himself, his voice a low rasp, full of satisfaction and unspoken promises.

He leaned his head back for a second, eyes closing briefly as if savoring the moment. Then, he looked ahead, eyes sharp and focused, and finished:

“Mine.”

Without hesitation, he started the engine. The Bugatti roared to life like a beast awakened—deep, smooth, and thunderous. He shifted gears, the car purring beneath him, and then he took off down the winding drive, tires whispering against the pavement.

Not to beg.

Not to explain.

But to claim.

The city lights blurred into streaks through the windshield, neon smears against her tears. Anastasia gripped the steering wheel tighter as she weaved through the late-night traffic. Horns honked. Cameras flashed. Even now—devastated, mascara running, heart pounding—paparazzi tried to get a shot of the birthday girl turned runaway bride.

But none of it mattered.

Her fingers trembled as she parked in front of the penthouse apartment. It was a place she’d come to a thousand times before, a place that once felt like sanctuary. Tae-min’s apartment—minimalistic, sleek, modern—with walls made of glass and floors of marble. She’d cooked here. Laughed here. Kissed him on that exact couch by the window when they first began dating.

Tonight, it felt like a stranger’s home.

She entered the passcode on the glowing keypad—her birthday. Still unchanged. Still hers. The soft click of the door unlocking felt louder than it should have, like a gunshot to her soul.

The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city below... until she heard it.

Murmuring. Voices. A woman’s giggle.

Her brows furrowed as her heels tapped softly against the floor. She followed the sound, her movements slow, as if her body was already bracing for the worst. The hallway stretched endlessly before her, lit only by the dim glow of a designer wall lamp. Her heart beat louder with each step.

Then she heard it—his voice.

“Yeah, I’m just dating her because she’s famous. I mean, come on. It’s good for my image, you know?”Tae-min’s voice, relaxed and amused.

Anastasia froze. Her breath caught in her throat. Her world tilted.

“Really?”a woman’s voice replied playfully, laced with desire. Anastasia stepped closer, past the open kitchen, until the bedroom door came into view—just slightly ajar.

She peeked.

The sheets were a tangled mess. The soft glow of warm lights spilled onto two naked bodies in the bed. Her stomach turned.

“Yeah, besides,”Tae-min continued, voice slightly mocking, “she doesn’t even let me touch her. Always talking about ‘saving herself for marriage.’ So irritating.”

The woman laughed, high-pitched and cruel. Tae-min chuckled with her.

And just like that—something inside Anastasia cracked.

She pushed the door open.

The light hit her tear-streaked face, her eyes red and wide, lips trembling as she stood there. The couple on the bed froze.

“Really, Tae-min?”her voice shook, but it echoed with quiet rage. “Is that how you see me?”

Tae-min’s body jerked upright, fumbling with the sheets. “Babe, I—wait—I didn’t know you were coming—”

“Clearly,”she cut in, her voice brittle. Her eyes were glassy, but her spine was straight. Strong.

He got up, wrapping a sheet around his lower half. “Anas, please, it’s not what it looks like—”

“Oh?”she stepped in fully now, ignoring the other woman who tried to cover herself with the blanket. “Because to me, it looks exactly like betrayal. Like the man I gave my trust to, the man I defended to everyone, just showed me what a coward he really is.”

“You don’t get it,”Tae-min snapped, his voice rising with frustration. “What did you expect me to do? I’m a man, Anas. I need sex! And you with your ‘I’m saving myself for marriage’ nonsense—what am I supposed to do with that?”

Anastasia stared at him.

For a moment, she didn’t move. Just stood there, absorbing every venomous word.

Then she laughed.

It was a soft, cold laugh—a broken, bitter sound. “You think being a man means you get to cheat on me? Humiliate me? Use me for fame?”

She took a deep breath, brushing her hair behind her ear, regaining composure.

“You know what, Tae-min? You’re right. You are a man. But not the kind I want. Not the kind I deserve.”

And then, without another word, she turned and walked out, head high.

The wind was harsh against her face as she exited the building, her heels clicking against the pavement, shaky but determined. Her fingers trembled as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, but it did little to hide the mess—smudged mascara, swollen eyes, tear-streaked cheeks. She didn’t care anymore. Not about the makeup. Not about the cameras that might catch her. Not about him.

She had to feel something else. Anything but this.

Sliding into her car, she took one deep breath, gripped the steering wheel, and screamed—a raw, pained sound that filled the confined space. Then, with tear-glossed eyes and heartbreak pulsing in her chest, she typed one destination into the GPS.

Club Paradox.

Exclusive. Loud. Dark. Perfect.

The club was pulsating with bass, its exterior bathed in flashing red and purple lights. Expensive cars lined the front. The queue outside was long, but the moment the bouncer saw her face, even in her disheveled state, he stepped aside without hesitation. She was Anastasia Seo—goddess of the screen, cover girl of the year. And tonight, a storm disguised in heels.

The music was deafening inside. Bodies swayed and collided, the scent of sweat, perfume, and expensive champagne hanging thick in the air. Strobe lights cut through the darkness like lightning.

But she didn’t care for the dance floor.

She walked straight to the bar, shoulders tense, her gorgeous dress now rumpled from the night’s chaos. She sat heavily on one of the leather barstools, ignoring the eyes on her, ignoring the whispers. All that glamour, all that fame—none of it shielded her from pain.

The bartender, a young man with a pierced lip and silver rings, looked up as he polished a glass. His eyes widened slightly when he saw her—red-eyed, makeup ruined, heartbreak written across her face like poetry.

“What can I get you, ma’am?”he asked gently, his voice almost drowned by the bass of the music.

Anastasia didn’t even blink. Her voice was hoarse, broken, but steady.

“Something... strong.”

The bartender nodded, reading her like an open book. He reached under the counter and grabbed a bottle of absinthe, then poured a generous shot. Without asking, he lined it with a rim of sugar and lit it on fire for a dramatic flair. She didn’t flinch at the flame.

He slid the glass toward her.

“This one’s not for the faint of heart.”

“Perfect,”she muttered before tossing it back in one go. The burn hit instantly—like swallowing fire and regret—but that was the point. She needed it to hurt.

“Another,”she whispered, tapping the counter.

Drink after drink, the numbness began to replace the ache. Her head swam, her vision blurred, but somehow it was easier to breathe. The tears kept coming, silently, as she stared into the glowing rows of liquor bottles behind the bar, her reflection fractured in every glass.

People were whispering now—

“Isn’t that Anastasia?”

“She looks like she’s been crying…”

“Wasn’t her engagement just announced tonight?”

But she didn’t turn to look. Didn’t care what they thought.

Suddenly, a man approached from the side—a stranger in a tailored suit, drunk on his own charm.

“Hey beautiful… wanna dance that sadness away?”he slurred, reaching for her arm.

Without even looking at him, Anastasia shoved his hand away. “Touch me again and I’ll have you drinking your dinner through a straw.”

The guy backed off immediately, muttering curses under his breath as he retreated.

The bartender raised a brow. “Want me to throw him out?”

“No.”She gave a small, bitter smile. “Let him stay. I’m the one who’s leaving soon.”

But before she could finish her next drink—

A shadow fell over the bar.

A tall figure stepped beside her, the scent of expensive cologne cutting through the sweat and alcohol, and a voice—deep, calm, and annoyingly familiar—broke through the fog in her head.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you,”Alessandro said coolly, slipping onto the stool next to her, “you shouldn’t cry over boys who don’t deserve you?”

Anastasia turned, eyes still glassy, lips parted slightly. The sight of him, leaning lazily on the bar like he hadn’t just watched her world crumble, made something inside her snap.

“What the hell are you doing here?”she hissed.

He smirked, cool and unbothered, “Saving you.”

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