Who was she?

Ivan Anderson's eyes weren’t fully open yet, he searched the space beside him for the beautiful woman who had captivated his senses the night before. But to his dismay, the bed lay empty.

Ivan’s eyes fluttered open, the remnants of last night’s haze clinging to him. His hand instinctively reached across the bed, searching for the warmth of the woman from last night—the mysterious woman who had ignited him with a fire he hadn’t felt in years. But his hand fell on cold, empty sheets. He bolted upright, his head pounding from the aftermath of too much whiskey, his body still humming from the intensity of their night together.

“Damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his tousled blond hair, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room. The bed was empty, untouched on the side where she should have been. He racked his memory, fragments of her laughter, her warmth, the feel of her skin slipping in and out of focus, but her face was maddeningly unclear. He had been drunk—too drunk to even remember her name, if he’d ever known it at all.

His fists clenched as irritation and curiosity fought within him. “Who the hell was she?” he growled to the empty room. A strange woman in his bed, so bold, so unforgettable. And now she was gone, slipping away without a trace.

With a sharp exhale, Ivan swung his legs out of bed, grabbing his shirt off the floor as his mind raced. He was a Suegra—powerful, feared, a man not easily made a fool. But she’d vanished, and he had no answers.

“What kind of game is this?” he muttered, a wicked glint flickering in his eyes. His lips twisted into a smirk, even as frustration simmered beneath it. Whoever she was, she’d awoken something in him, and now he intended to find her—no matter how deep into the family secrets he had to go.

Panic surged through Ivan's veins as he realized that the woman he had shared his bed with was nowhere to be found. His heart raced with a mixture of confusion and longing, desperate to unravel the mystery of her sudden disappearance.

The room, once a scene of intimate discovery, now felt overwhelmingly empty. "Where is that girl? Who was she?" The questions spun in his head, each one fueling his sudden need to find her.

Noticing a blood stain on the white sheet, Ivan's realization dawned – the girl was pure, a virgin. 

This detail added a layer of complication and urgency to his thoughts. She wasn't just any woman; she was someone special, someone he now felt an inexplicable connection to. 

His mind raced with possibilities and questions, but above all, a singular determination took hold – he needed to find that girl at any cost.

With a swift movement borne of this newfound resolve, Ivan grabbed his bathrobe, slipping into it as he made his way across the room. His actions were decisive, a man on a mission. He reached for his mobile phone with a sense of purpose, dialing his assistant Henry with a few quick taps.

The phone barely had time to ring before Ivan spoke, his voice carrying an authority that brooked no argument. "Gather your men and come to the luxurious presidential room right now," he commanded, the urgency in his tone making it clear that this was not a request but an order.

"Henry," Ivan said, his voice laced with determination, "gather your men and come to the luxurious presidential room right now. We have a woman to find, and I will stop at nothing until she is in my arms once more."

As Ivan waited for Henry and his men, his mind continued to race with thoughts of the mysterious woman. Who was she? Why had she left? And most importantly, how could he find her again? The events of the night before had sparked something within him, a need that went beyond mere curiosity.

And with that, Ivan Anderson set out on a quest to reclaim the woman who had stolen his heart, knowing that the path ahead would be fraught with danger and uncertainty. 

But as long as he had his loyal assistant by his side, Ivan was confident that nothing could stand in the way of his relentless pursuit of love and redemption.

As Henry and his men entered the presidential room, Ivan Anderson's steely gaze met theirs, his cigarette smoldering between his fingers. With a heavy sigh, he addressed his loyal assistant, his voice laced with frustration and uncertainty.

"You know I don't do one-night stand things," Ivan began, his tone grave. "Someone spiked my drink yesterday."

Henry and the bodyguards exchanged alarmed glances, their expressions mirroring the gravity of the situation. They knew all too well the dangers that lurked in the shadows, threatening to undermine Ivan's safety at every turn.

"Mr. Anderson, you know you have endless enemies in this world," Henry replied, his voice tinged with concern. "Your safety is our highest priority."

Ivan clenched his jaw in frustration, the bitter taste of betrayal lingering on his tongue. "Then how the hell did someone spike my drink under your watch, you idiot?" he demanded, his voice rising with anger.

Henry shook his head, his brow furrowed with worry. "Mr. Anderson, this is your family hotel," he explained. "And you know that only restricted Nobel family members can enter here. You have to tell us whom did you meet last night."

Ivan closed his eyes, his mind racing as he struggled to piece together the fragments of his fractured memory. He could feel the weight of Henry's scrutiny bearing down upon him, demanding answers that he did not yet possess.

"She was very fair-skinned, with ginger hair and bluish-gray eyes," Ivan murmured, his voice filled with uncertainty. "That's all I can remember."