Morning light spilled across the floor like liquid silk as I stepped into my new cabin. The air smelled faintly of new wood polish and ambition. Minimal, elegant, uncluttered—just like I’d always imagined. My eyes drifted to the glass panel by the door where, etched in clean lettering, were the words: Aizai, Senior Designer.

I froze for a second. Goosebumps. That nameplate wasn’t just decoration—it was recognition. It was arrival.

Inside, Aria stood already, her hands folded neatly in front of her, eyes wide like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to breathe too loudly yet. She looked fresh out of design school—slightly nervous, deeply earnest. I gave her a smile, warm and firm. Not just to ease her nerves, but to remind myself to be the mentor I never had. Supportive. Empowering. Kind but exact.

We spent the next hour walking through the space, the team’s workflow, project timelines laid out like fabric bolts waiting to be cut. She listened like the world might hinge on her taking notes right. Something about that made me protective.

Across the corridor, glass gleamed. Stella’s corner of the floor was its own museum of perfection. She sat poised in her designer throne, legs crossed, tablet in hand, an air of casual command around her. Her team moved like dancers trained in silent choreography. Her heels echoed—a stiletto metronome—and her nails tapped rhythmically on glass like applause only she could hear.

I kept my gaze ahead. Focused.

Damien walked by not long after. Tall, sharp, impossible to ignore. As he passed, he gave a nod. Short. Quiet. But the weight it carried made my spine straighten. It was approval in its most distilled form.

Later that afternoon, as I adjusted color palettes on one of our campaign spreads, Aria leaned in, her voice just shy of a whisper.
"Riyan keeps asking what you're working on," she said.

I looked at her.
"What did you say?"

"Nothing. Just said you’d share what was needed, when it was needed. Still… figured you should know."

I nodded, slowly. Huh.

Nothing concrete. Just a subtle unease curling in my stomach like smoke. The kind of thing you couldn’t report, but couldn’t ignore.

And then it started. Quiet at first. A fabric swatch missing from my reference board. A moodboard I could’ve sworn I pinned to the cork wall… shuffled, replaced. It didn’t scream sabotage—but it whispered inconvenience. Enough to make me feel like I was walking slightly uphill.

I didn’t say a word. I simply stayed longer. Focused harder. Rebuilt whatever was nudged off course.

But the tension slowly sharpened, threading its way into the team.

During our weekly brainstorming session, as I sketched out a theme around kinetic motion and contrast, one of the designers offered a counter-idea. Polite. Measured. But there was something in his tone, in the way his words stretched just slightly too far. And the glance—quick but telling—toward Stella’s cabin?

It landed.

I smiled, closed my sketchbook, and nodded.

Let him have that moment.

We’d see what he did with it.

Because in this world of whispers and polished warzones, I didn’t need to prove I belonged here.

I already did.

And the silence of my work? That would make the loudest statement of all.

I stayed late that night, redrafting an entire pitch deck from scratch. Aria had left hours ago. The office was quiet—just the sound of the AC and my fingers tapping keys.

A knock on my door startled me.

Damien stood there, a takeout coffee in hand.

“It’s almost midnight.”

“Deadlines don’t sleep,” I replied, not looking up.

He stared for a moment too long.

“You’ll burn out.”

“It’s okay.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Come on, I’ll drop you home.”

“I’m fine—”

“That wasn’t a request.”

The Next Morning

I was in the hallway, chatting with Stella about overlapping supplier timelines when Zach appeared, tension carved across his face.

“Stella, Aiza. Meeting room. Now.”

Stella shrugged and strutted ahead. I followed, my heart pacing into nervous territory.

Inside, Damien sat at the head of the table. Lucas Salvatore sat beside him, smug as ever. Zach and a lawyer occupied the opposite end.

“As you all know, Mr. Nathan Salvatore is no longer with us. However, he had the foresight to draft an inheritance will for his children,” the lawyer began. “The ELEGANZA branches in Paris, Italy, LA, and London are willed under Mr. Lucas Salvatore, shares worth 6 crore million. The branches in Vegas, Tokyo, Singapore, Sydney, Austria, and Qatar are under Mr. Damien Salvatore, shares worth 4 crore million.”

Lucas smirked. “Well, brother, seems we both inherited quite the fortune.”

Damien signed without a word. “Fortunes can change overnight,” he said.

I stared in horror. That means... Lucas Salvatore is now my boss. No.

Lucas’s eyes found mine with predatory delight.

“Well, best of luck. I have the best designers with me,” he said, smirking.

I would rather quit.

“I’d like to resign,” I told Damien.

Lucas interjected. “I’m your boss now. Talk to me.”

“Fine. I’d like to resign,” I said coldly.

“Resignation declined.”

“Lucas, you better watch your mouth,” Damien snapped.

Lucas leaned in, smirking. “What’s this, something going on between you two?”

Damien’s punch landed hard.

“You’re possessive,” Lucas said, nursing his jaw.

“Mr. Lucas Salvatore,” I interrupted, voice like steel, “my resignation has been emailed. I’m getting married and relocating to Japan.”

Silence.

Stella scoffed. “What is this? The groom’s family won’t let her work?”

“I’ll be designing with my boyfriend’s company in Japan,” I replied.

“You can’t force her to stay,” Damien said.

“Fine. I’ll sign it,” Lucas muttered.

I smiled. “Then I’ll be clearing out my cabin now.”

I returned to my space and began packing, the memory of six months ago flashing—Lucas drunk at a mansion party, trying to touch me. Mr. Nathan had saved me then. After that, I’d avoided Lucas like the plague.

Suddenly, my door slammed open.

Lucas.

⚠️Triggering content ⚠️

He pinned me to the wall.

“What are you doing? Let me go!” I yelled.

“You think I don’t know your tricks to avoid me?”

And in that moment, everything spiraled.

“You asshole, leave me!!” I yell, and his hand lands on my right cheek. “Although I know the room is soundproof, I would still like you to stay silent until I have my way with you,” he says as he holds my breast in his hand. I try to push him away, but he is too strong. He holds my hands and pins them behind my back while his knees separate my legs.

“That day that old man saved you, but today no one is here,” he says. How can he talk about his dad like this? “Leave me—” I try to say, but his filthy lips land on mine while tears start pouring from my eyes, feeling helpless.

Jeremy, please help. Where are you? I need you. Jer. Please help me, God, please!!!

The very next moment, I hear my shirt ripping apart.

“I will ruin you so badly that your boyfriend leaves you because no man will like his girlfriend doing sex with someone else. Then you will have to marry me,” Lucas says while I cry.

And at this moment, I wished I had never come to London. I wished I never met Jeremy because after this, I will not be able to face him.

His tongue invades my mouth and starts moving inside. He kisses me roughly. I try to bite him, but it only makes him chuckle. I try to push him away again, but he only presses me more against the wall, making me feel helpless.

"You're so delicious," he whispers before moving his lips back to mine. His other hand travels down my body, squeezing my bottom and pulling me closer to him. I feel trapped, unable to escape his grasp. My heart races as he continues to kiss me roughly.

I try to summon the strength to fight back, to push him away, but it's useless. He's too strong, too determined. His hands roam over my body, possessing me, making me feel like I'm his property.

"No," I manage to choke out between kisses. "Please stop."

His response is to kiss me harder. His hips grind against me, and I feel the hardness of him through his pants. Panic starts to set in as he continues to assault me, and I try to struggle again, but it's no use. He's too strong, too big.

"You belong to me," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "You'll never get away from me." His hand slides up my thigh, and I feel his fingers brush against my underwear.

God, if you don’t help me right now, I will never forgive you. I will never even take your name from my mouth. NEVER!!

My whole body is shaking with fear and humiliation as he continues to violate me. I feel like I can't breathe, like my lungs are being crushed under the weight of his hands.

"You're mine," he whispers into my ear, his voice rough with lust. "I'll own every part of you." The pain is unbearable, but I can't seem to find the strength to fight back. Tears stream down my face as I feel him take what he thinks he's owed.

But just as I begin to think that this is it, that I'm at his mercy forever, a loud crash echoes through the cabin. The sound of shattering glass and the ensuing yell are unmistakable. Lucas curses and releases me, stumbling away from me in surprise. Before I can even process what's happening, the door to my cabin bursts open and Damien is here.