"Help me… someone, help…"

Elena Wright jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat, her body trembling uncontrollably. She rolled off the bed and collapsed weakly onto the floor.

A dull, stinging pain throbbed from her left side—like a blade was still lodged there.

She glanced around in a daze, completely thrown off.

Wasn’t she pushed into the sea? What was she doing here?

Before she could make sense of it all, the door flew open and in walked a man in a black robe. The deep lines of his face were mesmerizing—like he’d been carved by the gods—handsome beyond reason, his dark eyes hiding secrets in their depths.

She just stared, frozen. Brain totally blank. Next thing she knew, the man was carrying her back to bed.

Vivid memories of drowning crashed into her—the suffocating weight of seawater—she was sure she’d died.

But just as she thought to ask “Are you…,” his lips came down on hers, silencing everything.

"Elena Wright, you’re mine," he murmured, breath hitting her skin like fire, both gentle and demanding.

Her throat clenched, like something was stuck there.

Driven by a memory buried deep within, she whispered, “Ethan Gray?”

His body stiffened at the name. Annoyed by her reaction, he wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, pressing in close until there was zero space between them.

He sank his teeth into her shoulder with force.

That one bite shattered her.

Tears started streaming down her face, soaking her cheeks. Her fingers brushed against them, stunned. She couldn’t stop crying.

Even as her vision blurred, she couldn’t look away from Ethan’s face. The pain. The sorrow. All of it slipped away.

But his expression darkened.

He saw her tears and his brows pinched together, forming sharp lines across his forehead. The light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a looming chill.

"You’re mine, Elena. Only mine."

He stood, voice icy. After tossing out those words, he slipped on his robe and left without looking back.

The loud bang of the door slamming shut made Elena jump. She scrambled down from the bed and stumbled, crashing to the floor.

The stab of pain stopped her cold.

Wait—Ethan wasn’t dead?

And… she wasn’t either?

She dazedly reached up to touch the bite mark on her shoulder, wincing.

Gazing numbly at the closed door, Elena clutched her fist to her chest, lowered her head, and started sobbing silently.

She’d died at twenty-five. But now—this was six years ago, right when Ethan had first taken her.

Her lips curved into a shaky smile, almost manic.

God must’ve given her a second shot at life.

And this time? The ones who framed her, who ruined her…

They weren’t getting away.

Morning light spilled in gently. Elena got up and washed her face, staring at her reflection. In her eyes, the stormy night replayed—it jumped back at her.

She’d been stabbed. Got in her car trying to flee. A strange vehicle forced her off the road and into the sea.

She remembered the masked driver. The license plate. That so-called accident—she needed to find out who’d tried to kill her.

When she opened her eyes again, they were calm—every bit of rage hidden beneath.

Heading downstairs for breakfast, she took her time. The butler practically froze when he saw her. "Miss Wright? You… you came down?"

In this massive villa, seeing Elena and Ethan in the same space felt more impossible than time travel.

Ethan glanced over, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

Elena casually sat down next to him.

But Ethan stood up and walked off, smooth and sharp—not giving her one second to say anything.

She stayed quiet, just watching his tall figure disappear down the hallway.

He’s probably still pissed about last night.

Fiddling with the ends of her long sleeves, she stared at her plate, the appetite gone now that Ethan had left.