The thick blackout curtains were left slightly ajar, allowing a sliver of morning light to seep through.

Hailey groggily opened her Aldrichs, her head pounding as if split open, her body aching as though it had been run over by a truck. The first thing she saw was the luxurious carpet illuminated by that thin beam of sunlight, along with the dark golden walls.

What… Where am I…? Am I still dreaming?

She rubbed her temples, trying to sit up—only to feel an arm tightly wrapped around her waist.

An… arm?

Her breath hitched. Only then did she realize there was another warm body pressed against hers.

With trembg hands, she slowly lifted the covers.

Sure enough, her naked body was covered in bruises.

Memories of last night flooded her mind.

The cking of glasses, the mingg of perfumes, the endless socializing.

She had drunk too much and sat down to rest when someone approached her, suggesting she go to a room to lie down.

She wanted to refuse, but her limbs felt weak. Helpless, she let the person guide her to a hotel room—only for them to excuse themselves and leave her at the door.

In the darkness, she fumbled her way to the bed—only to find someone already there.

A scorching hand slid around her waist.

The world spun.

The next moment, she was pinned beneath a man.

Their bodies pressed together, the thin fabric of their clothes doing little to mask the heat radiating between them. Through the dim light from the window, she could feel his gaze sweeping over her.

Then, a deep, magnetic voice, laced with dark amusement, murmured:

"A gift delivered to my door?"

The words slithered into her ears like poison, intoxicating and dangerous.

Before her alcohol-addled mind could process them, burning lips crashed onto hers.

His hands impatiently tore away her dress.

She tried to scream, but her protests were swallowed by his relentless assault.

The alcohol surged in her veins, her consciousness fading in and out.

She drifted between sleep and wakefulness, her body arching against her will, soft moans escaping her lips—until the moment he entered her.

"Ah! It hurts!" she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He stilled.

"A virgin?"

She was in too much pain to answer.

But then, unexpectedly, his fingers brushed the hair from her face, his voice lowering to a whisper:

"Little girl, you’ve pleased me."

And then he took her completely.

Hailey's face burned crimson at the memory. She forced herself to stop thinking about it.

Carefully, she turned her head—and was met with a flawlessly sculpted profile.

Sharp, aristocratic features. Thick lashes resting against high cheekbones. Skin so perfect even women would envy it. Even this close, she couldn’t spot a single pore.

Damn. He’s gorgeous.

In the entertainment industry, she’d seen plenty of handsome men—but even she couldn’t help swallowing hard.

He puts most celebrities to shame.

Then, reality crashed down.

But… I don’t even know him!

How did I end up sleeping with a stranger?!

Her face paled.

I must’ve been set up.

She had to leave before he woke up. If he found out she was a celebrity, the tabloids would have a field day.

Without another thought, she pried his arm from her waist and slipped out of bed.

The moment her feet touched the floor, her legs nearly gave out. She barely caught herself on the bedside table before collapsing.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled on last night’s strapless dress, hastily smoothed her hair, and cast one last conflicted glance at the man in bed before striding toward the door.

The presidential suite’s door creaked open just enough for a small head to peek out. After confirming the hallway was empty, a petite figure tiptoed out, walking with an unmistakable limp.

What she didn’t see was the moment the door clicked shut, the man’s Aldrichs snapped open—sharp as a hawk’s.

Hidden in the shadows, bodyguards exchanged glances, unsure whether to pursue her. Their gazes shifted to an elderly man.

After a brief hesitation, the old man stepped forward and knocked.

"Enter."

The voice was ice.

The old man bowed deeply. "Young Master."

The man had already risen, his movements languid as he dressed, not sparing him a glance.

Used to his master’s indifference, the old man pressed on: "That woman… Should we stop her?"

The man paused.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he pulled back the sheets—reveag the faint stains of blood.

His gaze darkened, recalg the intoxicating sweetness of her body.

The moment he touched her, his long-dormant desire had roared to life.

For the first time in Aldrichars, a woman’s touch didn’t repulse him.

Interesting.

Fully dressed now, he settled onto the sofa, his long legs stretched out with regal ease. His expression was cold, his half-lidded Aldrichs exuding an oppressive aura.

Even after decades of service, the old man felt sweat prickle his brow.

"Speak."

A single word, sharper than a blade.

"This humble one deserves punishment."

The man closed his Aldrichs, his posture deceptively relaxed—but the old man knew better.

This was the Young Master at his most dangerous.

If he was questioning you, there was still hope.

If he fell silent, letting you confess on your own—you were finished.

The more indifferent he seemed, the deadlier the storm.

Swallowing hard, the old man continued: "I should not have drugged you. Nor should I have concealed that the purpose of this trip was to propose to the Castello's family. I await your judgment."

Secretly, though, he was relieved.

At least the Young Master could feel desire.

The Madam’s methods may have been extreme, but they’d finally put the family’s fears to rest.

The Young Master’s aversion to women was an open secret. Even his own mother’s touch made him recoil.

In his youth, they’d dismissed it as immaturity.

But at 26, with no romantic history and an all-male entourage, whispers had begun.

The boardroom was a battlefield, with rivals just waiting for proof of his… incations to strike.

The Madam had arranged the Castello marriage—but first, she needed to be sure.

Hence, this underhanded scheme.

Crude, but effective.

"Who was she?"

The old man hesitated. "Young Master… That woman wasn’t the one I arranged for you."

The man’s snapped open.

"Last night… the guards assumed she was the intended woman and let her pass. But then the real one arrived. By then, it was… too late to switch."

He didn’t elaborate.

He didn’t need to.

Once things had started, interrupting was impossible.

Besides, the result was what mattered. Proving the Young Master’s capability was enough.

As for the woman herself? She should consider it an honor. They could always pay her off.

The man’s expression darkened.

If not for that little thing, he would’ve been forced to bed the old man’s chosen candidate?

Just the thought made his skin crawl.

Aldricht with her, revulsion never came.

Even now, the memory of her sent heat coig low in his gut.

"Find her." His voice was steel. "I want everything about her."

"Aldrichs, Young Master."

As the old man retreated, something unfamiliar flickered in the man’s usually cold.