Chen's head throbbed like a drum, each beat pounding against her skull. The faint taste of champagne clung to her tongue, sweet yet bitter, as though mocking her. She groaned softly, dragging her hand across the silk sheets beneath her.
Silk?
Her eyes snapped open.
The room around her was not hers. High ceilings, glittering chandeliers, velvet curtains drawn half-closed against the morning light—it screamed wealth and power. The kind of place she could never afford in ten lifetimes.
Her chest tightened.
Slowly, she turned her head.
And her breath caught.
A man lay beside her.
Not just any man.
His body was angled toward her, the rise and fall of his chest steady, controlled even in sleep. His face was devastatingly handsome, sculpted as though the gods themselves had carved it from stone. Sharp jawline, perfectly straight nose, lips pressed into the faintest line.
But it wasn't just his looks. It was the aura he radiated—even unconscious—that made her heart stumble. Cold, commanding, dangerous.
Recognition hit her like lightning.
Liang Zhen.
The city's most powerful billionaire. The man whose name sent boardrooms trembling. Ruthless in negotiations, untouchable in status, and utterly unreachable for someone like her.
Chen's stomach twisted.
No… this can't be real. This is a dream. A nightmare.
She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, willing her memories to piece themselves together. Last night—the glittering charity gala her friend had begged her to attend. The endless glasses of wine that tasted too smooth. The dazzling lights and spinning laughter. Then…
Her mind blanked, except for fleeting flashes.
A strong arm catching her when she stumbled. A pair of piercing eyes glinting beneath the chandeliers. The wrong hotel door. The intoxicating scent of him as the world blurred and dissolved into heat.
Chen's cheeks burned. She squeezed her eyes shut.
No, no, no…
This couldn't have happened. Not with him. Not with someone so far out of her world that he may as well have been on another planet.
Her gaze darted to him again. He hadn't moved, still sleeping soundly, though his presence alone felt suffocating.
She needed to leave. Now.
Moving as quietly as possible, Chen slipped out of the bed. Her legs trembled as she crouched to snatch her dress from the floor. The fabric was wrinkled, smelling faintly of liquor and his cologne. She pulled it over her head, her movements frantic, her hair sticking messily to her damp forehead.
Her heels were tossed carelessly near the door. She tiptoed across the cool marble floor, her pulse thundering in her ears.
Just as her fingers brushed the doorknob—
"Leaving already?"
Her entire body froze.
That voice—low, deep, commanding.
Chen turned slowly, her heart lodged in her throat.
Liang Zhen was awake.
His sharp, obsidian eyes locked onto hers, dark as the abyss. Though his body was still reclined against the pillows, his gaze alone carried enough weight to pin her in place.
She swallowed hard. "I—I… I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here."
One elegant brow arched. "Clearly." His tone was cool, detached, as though women sneaking out of his room was nothing unusual.
Chen's hands curled into fists. Heat rose to her face, but she forced her voice steady. "It was a mistake. Forget it ever happened."
She reached for the doorknob again, desperate to escape.
But his voice cut through the silence once more.
"Mistake?" His lips curved into something unreadable—half amusement, half challenge. "That's not what you were saying last night."
Her blood ran cold.
"I—I was drunk," she stammered, humiliation prickling her skin.
"Drunk doesn't erase reality." His eyes swept over her, slow and deliberate, making her shiver. "Do you even know who you were with?"
"I do," she whispered, chin lifting despite her shaking hands. "Which is exactly why I need to leave. We're strangers. We'll never meet again."
For a moment, his expression didn't change. Then, he smirked faintly, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. "You're braver than most. They usually beg to stay."
Her chest ached at the sharpness of his words. Without another glance, she turned the knob and bolted out the door, her heart hammering.
She didn't stop running until she was out of the hotel, the cold morning air slapping against her face. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she leaned against a lamppost, clutching her bag to her chest.
It was just one night, she told herself fiercely. A mistake. I'll bury it in the past. No one ever has to know.
Her life would go back to normal. Work, bills, her small apartment. Ordinary, safe, invisible.
But fate had other plans.
Three weeks later, Chen sat on the cold bathroom floor of her cramped apartment, her knees pulled tight to her chest. Her fingers trembled as she stared at the little stick in her hand.
Two bold pink lines glared back at her.
Positive.
Her breath hitched. Tears stung her eyes.
"No… no, this can't…"
The test slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the tiles. She buried her face in her hands, her entire body shaking.
She was pregnant.
And the father… was none other than Liang Zhen.
Her phone buzzed suddenly, making her flinch. She glanced at the screen—her boss's number flashing. Work. Reality. Life pressing in.
Chen wiped her eyes quickly and forced herself to stand, the test still lying on the floor like a cruel reminder. She grabbed her bag and rushed out.
But as she stepped onto the street, a sleek black car rolled to a stop right in front of her.
The tinted window slid down.
And there he was. Liang Zhen, in a perfectly tailored suit, his dark eyes locking onto hers with the same cold intensity as that morning three weeks ago.
Her blood turned to ice.