The morning sun barely pierced through the dusty window of a cramped, one-room apartment. Aurora sat at a small wooden table, staring at the meager breakfast before her with a single piece of bread and a cup of watered-down coffee. Her stomach twisted with hunger, but food was the last thing on her mind.From the worn-out couch in the corner, soft, ragged breathing filled the silence. Her mother, Maria, lay motionless, her pale face glistening with sweat. The coughing fits had worsened overnight, and even in sleep, she looked like she was in pain.Aurora wiped her tired eyes and stood, her shoulders slumping under the weight of exhaustion. She was tired... tired of everything.Life had been cruel to her since childhood. She had grown up in a poor family, with a sickly mother and a father addicted to gambling. Every time he lost and fell into debt with loan sharks, she was the one forced to clean up his mess. She had no choice. If she refused, he would beat her.Since junior high, she
Aurora’s feet dragged across the pavement, exhaustion gnawing at her bones as she walked home from the hospital. The nurse’s words still echoed in her mind. Her mother needed immediate treatment, or she would die. Her head felt like it was about to burst as she racked her brain for a way to get the money.And she had until morning to come up with an impossible amount. What should she do?But as she turned the last corner toward their tiny apartment, her steps slowed.A black sedan sat in front of their crumbling home. Her stomach twisted. This kind of feeling—it always came when she was in danger. She didn’t know why, but a sudden wave of unease gripped her the moment she spotted the suspicious car.Near the vehicle stood Felix, his hunched frame unusually stiff. Surrounding him were three tall men in black suits, their sharp gazes piercing the night. One look at them, and it was obvious that they weren’t good men.Felix was talking to them intently. Negotiating. His fingers twitched,
The entire suite fell in a suffocating tension. Aurora’s wrist burned, but she barely felt it anymore. Her pulse was erratic as she stared at the imposing man before her. His presence was overwhelming, his gaze piercing–a shade of gray that felt like it could see right through her. There was something about him, something peculiar… something that pulled her in, even though every instinct screamed at her to run.Without a word, he took the sharp shard from her trembling fingers and tossed it aside."M-Mr. Moore, this is a misunderstanding," the old man stammered, his voice cracking. "I–I had no idea she was under your protection."Aurora's breath hitched. Under his protection?Grayson remained indifferent to the man's pathetic attempts at explaining himself. Instead, he pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around Aurora’s bleeding wrist. His fingers were cold, steady, yet surprisingly gentle.Aurora flinched at the unexpected contact. "Who... who are you?" s
Aurora’s heart pounded violently as Grayson’s words echoed in her head."Tonight, you’re mine."His gray eyes burned into hers—cold, unwavering, yet consuming.She took a shaky step back, fear coiling deep in her gut. What awaited her? Her mind raced for an escape, but the sheer presence of him, the way he loomed over her with absolute command, held her rooted in place. His touch still lingered on her wrist, a chilling reminder that she was no longer free.“W–What do you mean by that?” her voice barely above a whisper.Grayson tilted his head slightly, studying her like a puzzle he had already solved. “Exactly what I said.”Aurora clenched her fists, pulse erratic. Why does everyone think they own her?“I am not some object you can claim,” she protested firmly.His smirk was slow, deliberate. “Yet here you are. In my home. Wearing my jacket. Breathing under my roof.”He stepped forward, his tall frame swallowing the space between them. “Tell me, Aurora. What does that make you?”Her
The morning of the next day.. Aurora sat behind the long and polished table. The breakfast spread before her untouched. Golden croissants, eggs cooked to perfection, a platter of sliced fruits, and a cup of hot milk sat neatly in front of her. Yet, she had no appetite. Her chest tightened with worry about her mother’s hospitalization. The deadline had come. If she could not pay the down payment this morning, the hospital would discharge her mother. She clutched the fabric of her dress under the table, gathering her courage before speaking. "I need to go to the hospital today." Across from her, Grayson continued scrolling through emails on his phone, seemingly unaffected by her words. Dressed in a crisp black shirt, his sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing strong forearms, he exuded effortless power. Even in silence, his presence dominated the room. Seconds passed before he finally set his phone down. His steel-gray eyes met hers— cold and piercing. "You cannot leave." Aurora
Grayson’s kiss was possessive. Almost hungry. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t smile. He didn’t laugh. His eyes were dark with something far more dangerous. Was it ownership? "I don’t like disobedience," he said quietly, his voice low and cold as ever. Aurora was breathless, her chest heaving. Thoughts tangled in her mind, incoherent and wild. He had kissed her. The sensation still lingered on her lips, burning, impossible to ignore. Her world had tilted, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to right itself again. He released her, straightening to his full height, his gaze lingering-- piercing, unable to decipher. And just like that, he turned and walked toward the door, as if nothing had happened. The soft click of the door shutting behind him left Aurora frozen in the silence, her lips still tingling from his kiss. She could still feel the weight of his gaze. Still taste the remnants of him on her lips. She should be angry. She should feel violated. But she didn’t. All
"WHO told you to go and work in the kitchen?"Grayson's voice cut through the air, sharp and absolute. His gray eyes bore into Aurora, pinning her in place.She swallowed, lowering her gaze. He was too handsome—and too intimidating to look at for long."No one," she murmured, her fingers nervously twisting together.A touch—light but firm, tipped her chin up. She flinched subconsciously.Grayson’s fingers held her still, forcing her to meet his eyes."Then what were you doing there?" His voice remained void of warmth.Aurora's breath faltered. Her lips parted, but the weight of his gaze left her struggling for words."I–I just wanted to…" she faltered, then forced herself to finish. "To make you a simple breakfast… as a token of gratitude for saving my mother."For a fraction of a second, something flickered behind his eyes—too quick to catch. Then, it was gone.He hadn’t expected that.She still saw it as a favor. She still thanked him, despite knowing she was nothing more than his c
Night had fallen over the estate.The mansion, always too silent, felt even colder without the usual clinking of silverware from the dining room. Grayson sat alone at the head of the long table. His posture remained proud, as always, but his eyes were distant, his jaw locked with quiet tension. The meal in front of him sat untouched. The wine in his glass reflected the dim chandelier overhead, swirling gently each time he shifted slightly in his seat.But his focus wasn’t on any of it.His gaze kept drifting toward the empty chair across from him.Aurora hadn’t come down for dinner.He told himself it didn’t matter. She was just a girl he had brought here—a piece of a much bigger plan. Her presence, or lack of it, shouldn't affect him.Yet it did.His knuckles tightened around the edge of the table, the quiet pressure revealing more than he would ever admit.“Shall I check on Miss Scott, sir?” Edith’s voice was soft,
Sunnydale – Aurora's Room.Grayson stood at the doorway with a calm expression on his face, but the rigid set of his shoulders betrayed the storm brewing inside him. His coat was still damp from the cold night air, yet he barely noticed it as he strode forward, his full focus fixed on the frail figure lying on the bed.Aurora was motionless, her face unnaturally pale against the pillows. Even in her fevered state, her brows were faintly furrowed, as though lost in some unbearable discomfort. A thin sheen of sweat clung to her skin, while her breathing was shallow and weak. The sight of the IV drip attached to her arm only worsened the unfamiliar tightness in Grayson’s chest.Dr. Langston adjusted the drip stand before turning toward him, his expression calm but tinged with quiet disapproval. Beside him, Edith exchanged a glance with Grayson before bowing slightly and excusing herself. The door shut softly behind her, leaving only the two men and the unconscious woman between them.
Aurora shifted slightly, her body aching in ways she had never known before. A dull throb pulsed through her limbs, each movement a reminder of the night before. But the unbearable soreness between her legs made her wince. It felt as if she had been shattered, torn apart by the man who had taken everything from her.Grayson. His name echoed in her mind, bringing back flashes of heat, pain, and something she didn't dare to think. Her fingers brushed against the sheets, their warmth long faded. She turned her head and finally noticed it.The space beside her was empty.Her heart gave a slow, heavy thud.He was gone.Aurora stared at the vacant spot where he had been, where his body had pressed against hers. He had burned through her like fire, fierce and consuming. Now he was gone simply, leaving nothing behind but silence. The sheets were cold. No lingering warmth. No sign that he had ever been there.Her chest tightened and a dull ache settling deep inside her.So that was it.Afte
The moonlight slipped through the windows, soft and quiet across the wide bedroom. The air was still. The only sound was Aurora’s slow breathing as she turned under the thin blanket, caught in an uneasy sleep.Everything stayed silent. Until the door slammed open.Aurora gasped, sitting up fast. Her heart jumped to her throat. She blinked against the darkness and saw a figure in the doorway. Broad shoulders. A heavy, burning stare.Grayson.But not the Grayson she remembered. Not the man who stayed calm and cold no matter what.This man looked broken.He stood there like he had fought a thousand battles just to reach her. His chest heaved, fists clenching and unclenching like he was trying to hold something back.Aurora clutched the blanket tighter around herself. Her voice cracked when she spoke.“Grayson? What are you doing?”He didn’t answer. He just looked at her. Looked at her like she was the only thing left that mattered.Seconds dragged. The air grew too thick to breathe.Then
In Harford City, the sky was overcast—a dull, heavy gray that mirrored the solemnity of the day. The air carried the scent of incense and fresh flowers, clinging to everything like a memory refusing to fade. The Moore family stood before the twin graves of Benjamin and Vivianne Moore. The marble headstones were tall, pristine, unyielding. Their names carved into stone remained untouched by time, yet they had shaped every second of Grayson’s life.Grayson stood still, a figure of icy composure, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his black long coat. His expression was unreadable, carved in stone like the names before him. Beside him, his grandfather Henry remained as rigid and dignified as ever, his gaze rooted on the graves with a heaviness age had not diminished. Behind them, Melissa, Hunter, and Natalie formed a quiet line—heads slightly bowed, postures respectful but distant.Every year, it was the same.The same rituals.The same hollow words of remembrance.The same unbearab
Grayson's thoughts were interrupted when Jason, his secretary, knocked on the door before entering. Grayson barely lifted his gaze from the documents on his desk, his mind still flickering back to the images Edith had sent.He had only been gone for a short time, yet Aurora had already invaded his thoughts like an unshakable force. It irritated him so much that he became frustrated with himself. He had never been the type to let distractions slip past his discipline, yet here he was, watching a woman through a phone screen, indulging in something as foolish as curiosity.His jaw tightened as he swiped the screen off and looked up at Jason.“What is it?”Jason hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding. “Sir, Austin Lopez is here to see you.”Grayson’s fingers stilled atop the papers in front of him. The name alone was enough to shift the air in the room. A cold, sharp amusement fluttered in his eyes, though his expression remained emotionless.Austin Lopez. His greatest r
Sunnydale..The vast estate, which had once felt like a golden cage, had over time become a world of her own within its grand walls. And it all started with the library.When Edith had first toured her through the huge fortress-like mansion, Grayson's massive library had been the one place that truly captivated her. Towering bookshelves stretched endlessly, filled with countless volumes on history, finance, literature, philosophy, and art. Among the many subjects, the books on art called to her the most.She would spend hours flipping through the pages, her fingertips tracing over the breathtaking paintings and intricate sketches. The brushwork, the blending of colors, and the emotions captured within each stroke reignited something deep inside her.Before her life had crumbled into chaos, she had once dared to dream. In her first year of college, she had chosen Fine Arts, hoping to nurture the talent she had carried since childhood. But dreams did not feed an empty stomach. The harsh
When Grayson got off work, it was already eight at night. Whenever he was in Harford, he rarely went to the old house, preferring a quieter place. Tonight, he was driving back to his villa. Since it wasn’t far from the company, it was convenient for him to go back and forth. Unlike the grand, fortress-like estate where Aurora remained, this place was modern and filled with extravagance, something only billionaires could afford.Louis, the villa’s butler, greeted him at the entrance. "Good evening, sir. Shall I prepare something for you?""No. I'm good," he replied curtly as he stepped inside."But sir, you’ve just been discharged from the hospital--"Grayson cut him off with a sharp look before heading straight to his study to deal with his pending paperwork.The study was dimly lit, the faint glow from his desk lamp casting long shadows against the bookshelves. He walked to the wine cabinet, poured himself a glass of expensive whiskey, then settled into his chair. Work was his only c
Grayson discharged himself early from the hospital because he did not want to linger in a place he despised. Hospitals were the last place he ever wanted to be. He was already dressed in his usual elegant business suit, and the crisp white shirt beneath his navy blue jacket remained immaculate. He did not look like someone who had just spent a day and night hospitalized.The IV line had been removed only minutes ago, but he had not spared a glance at the doctor who tried to convince him to stay for further monitoring. He had heard enough, and his body had healed enough. That was all that mattered.The drive back to company headquarters was quiet. Grayson leaned against the leather seat of his luxury car while his sharp gaze remained fixed on the city skyline and his thoughts drifted. He had spent two weeks away while drowning himself in something that barely numbed the restlessness within him. Now the world expected him to step back into the role he had perfected, which was the cold
Grayson remained silent as he stared out the window, the city lights of Harford flickering beyond the glass. The weight of Natalie’s presence lingered beside him. Her fingers had just left his wrist, yet he could still feel the ghost of her touch.He knew Natalie cared, more than she should, and he was aware of it. She had always been there, always watching over him, always making sure he remained the man she believed he should be. But lately, the carefully placed walls around his life were starting to crack. Aurora was the reason.Natalie’s voice broke the silence. “Your grandfather should be here soon.”Grayson barely flinched. Of course, he would be. His grandfather never tolerated weakness, and a hospital visit was nothing short of humiliation in his eyes.“I will handle him,” he said, his voice calm but edged with firmness.Natalie studied him for a moment, as if searching for something beneath his detached exterior. “You should take this more seriously, Grayson.” Her tone was s