"Now, this Court pronounces that the defendant, Oscar Grey, is guilty of murder and fraudulent fundraising. He is hereby sentenced to death, with a two-year reprieve."

Bang!

The gavel came down like thunder, sealing Oscar Grey’s fate with cold finality. A death sentence, temporarily delayed but no less damning.

Gasps echoed through the tense courtroom, but Liliana Grey didn’t hear them. She stood abruptly, her legs shaking beneath her as if the floor had split open. Her amber eyes shimmered with un-shed tears, yet she stubbornly refused to let them fall.

She could only look at her father.

Oscar Grey.

Once the most revered entrepreneur in the city—charismatic, powerful, and generous—now reduced to a frail figure in a stark white prison uniform. His shoulders hunched beneath invisible weight, his once-dark hair threaded with gray, and the confident aura that once filled boardrooms had long since disappeared.

He looked up, locking eyes with her.

“Liliana…” he rasped, struggling against the officers dragging him away. “Trust your father. I’m not a murderer. It’s a frame-up—my enemies orchestrated this. They’ve taken everything from me.”

Liliana’s heart clenched painfully.

Of course she believed him. The man who had held her hand when she was sick, who built orphanages and gave scholarships to children… how could he kill someone?

Her voice trembled as she stepped forward. “Dad, don’t worry. I’ll find a way. I swear—I’ll overturn your conviction. I’ll get you out!”

A prison guard frowned and shoved her aside. “This isn’t visiting hour. Move aside. The prisoner is returning to the facility.”

She stumbled backward, falling hard on the marble floor. The pain from her scraped wrist stung sharply, but she didn’t cry.

She couldn’t cry. Not yet.

She had to be strong. For her father.

There had to be someone who could help…

Ethan Thompson. Her fiancé.

He was powerful, well-connected, and always promised to stand by her no matter what. Desperation clouding her thoughts, she dialed his number with trembling fingers.

But the voice that answered the call was not that of a loving fiancé—it was cold, amused, cruel.

“You’re begging me to help your father now?” Ethan chuckled. “Liliana, don’t be so naive. The only reason I agreed to marry you was because of your father’s money. Now that the Grey family is bankrupt and Oscar’s rotting in jail, why should I lift a finger?”

His words stabbed her like icy blades.

Tears welled again, unbidden. She bit her lip hard, trying to hold her voice steady. “But… the business world knows about our engagement. If you break it off publicly, the Thompson family’s reputation will suffer. Won’t it?”

A pause.

Then a low, amused murmur. “Hmm. You’ve got a point. I suppose appearances matter.”

Another beat.

“Fine. You want my help? Then come to the Hilton hotel tonight. Room 806. Nine o’clock. Please me—and I’ll consider your little request.”

Liliana gasped, her heart lurching in horror.

“You’re disgusting,” she whispered. “You’re kicking me while I’m down.”

His scoff was unmistakable. “Take it or leave it.”

The line went dead.

The phone slipped from her hand.

Treated like a pawn. Traded like a favor. He had no intention of saving her father—he just wanted to use her. Strip her of dignity before tossing her aside.

But what choice did she have?

Everyone else had abandoned her. Her father's so-called allies had vanished. The media feasted on their downfall.

If this was what it took… she would grit her teeth and dance with the devil.

..........

At 9 PM, Liliana stood before the door of Room 806 at the Hilton Hotel, her body shaking.

Her hand hesitated, trembling. She knocked.

No response. The door was unlocked.

She pushed it open slowly. The room was completely dark, lit only by a sliver of moonlight through the heavy curtains.

Her voice quivered. “Ethan? I’m here, like you asked… you—uh!”

Suddenly, a dark shadow surged from the corner. Before she could react, strong hands seized her wrists and slammed her against the wall.

It wasn’t Ethan.

Hot breath, reeking of alcohol, hit her face. The scent was foreign. Harsher. Violent.

“Wait—stop! Ethan, it’s me!” she cried out, struggling wildly.

But her pleas went unanswered. The man was like a wild beast—gripping, pinning, tearing.

Ruthless.

“No! Please—don’t!” Her sobs were choked by panic, by the crushing weight of fear.

Her clothes were torn, her skin exposed to the cold, her body wracked with pain.

Then—darkness.

...........

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound of her phone vibrating broke the silence. Liliana stirred on the bed, her limbs aching, her soul shattered.

She turned her head.

He was there.

The man from the night before, sleeping soundly on the other side of the bed. His face—partially illuminated by the moonlight—was achingly handsome. Sharp jaw, strong brows, high cheekbones. At first glance, he resembled Ethan….

Her hand slowly curled into a trembling fist.

For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to kill him. Even if it meant dying herself.

But then—she remembered her father.

She grabbed her phone, ignoring the fire in her muscles, the rawness of her skin.

A single message had arrived.

“Liliana Grey, come quickly—your father’s transport was hit. He’s in critical condition.”

The words hit her like a freight train. Her blood froze.

She bolted upright, gasping in pain as her body protested. Her face turned deathly pale. But she didn’t care.

Throwing on her clothes, she stumbled from the room without looking back.

How could this have happened? A car accident? Just hours ago, he had been walking, speaking…

She didn’t know that, moments after she left, a breeze fluttered through the window. The moonlight spilled onto the bed, illuminating the man’s face fully.

His features were sharp and commanding. Ethereal, almost cruel in their beauty.

His brow was furrowed even in sleep.

He looked like Ethan Thompson.

But he wasn’t Ethan Thompson.

He was someone else entirely.