Marchos Alexander returned to his office without having lunch. How could he eat when his mood had been ruined by Sharlyn Swan? He regretted ever bringing that girl along with him.
The moment he sat in his chair, there was a knock on the office door.
"Come in."
"Sir…" Mr. Jack extended his phone toward him.
Marchos grabbed the phone for a moment—then, without warning, hurled it against the wall. Mr. Jack froze, stunned by the outburst. He couldn't even swallow his own saliva. In the end, he could only stand there in silence. Even after years of serving as Marchos Alexander's PA, he had never grown used to the man's fiery temper.
"I want you to erase this useless video!" Marchos barked.
"Y-yes, sir!" Mr. Jack replied nervously, nodding quickly.
"Uh… Sir, this afternoon we have a meeting with—"
"Cancel it!"
"What? B-but sir… the President and CEO of Kaist Corporation will be there for the discussion. If you cancel, what will they think—"
"I said cancel it! Just cancel it! Are you deaf? And one more thing, postpone this project for a month!"
"Sir, if we postpone again, the project will run into serious problems!"
"Enough!" Marchos slammed his fist against the desk. "Just do what I say!"
"Yes, sir…" Mr. Jack answered weakly.
Marchos pulled out several bills from his wallet and handed them to his PA.
"What's this for, sir?"
"Your phone."
Only then did Mr. Jack glance at his phone—now smashed into pieces on the floor. The fear and tension from earlier had made him forget all about it. He took the money hesitantly.
"Thank you, sir."
"Get out."
"Yes, sir," Mr. Jack muttered before quickly stepping out of his employer's office.
Left alone, Marchos Alexander rose from his chair and walked to the balcony, facing the sweeping view from the twenty-fifth floor. His eyes lingered on the cityscape of Vancouver, while raindrops tapped rhythmically against the glass—a melody of their own. He inhaled the cold air that bit into his skin. With one rough hand, he ruffled the hair that had earlier been styled so perfectly.
Dyana Rosey's face flashed in his mind. For years, he had tried to forget her, but he never could. Her sweet smile, her voice, her eyes—they haunted him, drove him insane with longing. And now she had reappeared. He would not let her slip away a second time.
When he was beside her, he had forced himself not to touch her, not to caress the face he had missed so desperately. Yet what puzzled him most was how Dyana Rosey treated him—as if he was a stranger she had never known at all.
---
"Ryan! What are you doing here?" Dyana Rosey asked in surprise when she saw him standing in front of Garden Café.
"Waiting for you. Let me send you home!" Ryan offered.
"Hold on, let me text Emma first. I don't want her to come and fetch me," Dyana Rosey replied.
"Emma? Your friend?"
"Yeah, she's my housemate—aka my bestie." Dyana Rosey smiled.
"Really? I didn't know that… but I'm glad." Relief washed over Ryan upon knowing Dyana lived with a friend. At least someone was there to accompany her. He had always worried about her.
"I'll introduce her to you later. Emma just replied—okay, let's go."
Ryan quickly opened the car door for Dyana Rosey.
Once inside the car, silence fell between them. The air was heavy, only the hum of the engine filling the space.
Ryan hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixed on the road. "I saw that video. It was you, wasn't it?"
Dyana Rosey gave a faint smile and nodded slightly. She hadn't expected it to spread so quickly. Thankfully, her face wasn't clearly visible in the footage. Even so, she was deeply worried. Who wouldn't be, in such a situation? Fans of Sharlyn Swan had already attacked her online. The damage was done. She only hoped her uncle's café wouldn't suffer because of it.
Ryan let out a heavy sigh.
"How did all of that even happen? Dyan…" Another sigh escaped him.
"Dyana… if you've got problems, you should tell me. Don't keep everything bottled up. I'll always be here for you," Ryan continued.
Dyana Rosey smiled faintly, touched by his words.
"Thanks, Ryan… but please don't worry. It's nothing serious. Just ignore it." She lied, forcing her voice to sound light.
"Nothing serious? That's what you call it? How am I supposed to just ignore it when it involves you, Dyan! You're always like this! Never once do you tell me your problems. I'm worried about you, can't you see that?" Ryan's voice rose with frustration.
He gritted his teeth, exhaling sharply. Anger mixed with helplessness churned inside him. From the past until now, Dyana Rosey had always kept her struggles to herself. He knew that well. But was it wrong for him to want to share her burden? Was it wrong to want to be the person she could lean on? Was that really so wrong?
"I'm sorry…" Dyana Rosey whispered, guilt flooding her chest. His words pierced her heart. She knew Ryan truly cared for her. He had always been a good friend. But she didn't want to trouble him. She didn't want Ryan to suffer because of her. Better for her to carry it all alone.
"Ryan… I really am sorry. I just don't want you to worry, that's all," she added, her voice shaking as Ryan remained silent beside her.
Before they knew it, the car pulled up in front of her terrace house.
Dyana Rosey opened the door of the Hummer. Just before stepping out, she turned to him, but Ryan still refused to meet her eyes.
"Ryan… please forgive me," she murmured softly.
"Take care." His reply was flat, almost cold.
Dyana Rosey stood there, watching Ryan's car drive away. She could feel it—he was hurt.
---
"Damn it!!!"
Ryan slammed his fist against the steering wheel, his chest heaving. He had been driving aimlessly through the city's streets, frustration burning through him. Eventually, he killed the engine and turned off the CD player. Silence swallowed the car.
Regret gnawed at him—regret for raising his voice at Dyana Rosey.
Since she had moved to London, he never stopped missing her. He had even begged his parents to let him pursue his studies there, but they had refused.
The truth was, Ryan had fallen for Dyana Rosey long ago. He had carried those feelings deep in his heart, hidden away, never daring to confess. He knew she only saw him as a friend. He had tried countless times to erase that love, but he could never succeed.
In his heart, Dyana Rosey's name was etched too deeply. No matter how many years passed, she remained his first love. And first loves are not so easily forgotten.
---
The moment Dyana Rosey stepped into her house, she called out, "Emma, did you make the macaroni I asked for?"
But her footsteps froze. Her face fell in shock when she saw the figure lounging comfortably on her sofa.
It was Marchos Alexander.
Dyana Rosey stood rooted to the spot, utterly stunned.
---
"Welcome home," Marchos Alexander said flatly.
"W-what are you doing in my house? Y-you'd better get out now!" Dyana Rosey stammered, panic rising in her voice. She quickly pulled out her phone to call the police. She had no idea how this man had even discovered her address.
"Do you want to see your friend die?" Marchos Alexander's voice carried a chilling threat.
Her phone slipped from her trembling hands. She covered her mouth in horror when she noticed another large man in a black suit standing next to Emma, who was lying unconscious on the sofa. In her panic, she hadn't realized they were there. Her eyes locked on the gun in the suited man's hand.
"No!" Dyana Rosey gasped for breath, rushing toward Emma. "Stay away from her!" she screamed at the man.
"What did you do to Emma?" she cried as she gently patted her friend's cheeks. Emma remained unresponsive.
"No need to worry. She's only unconscious," Marchos Alexander replied calmly, still lounging on the sofa. He removed his sunglasses, and Dyana Rosey froze under the weight of his gaze, a smile of hidden meaning tugging at his lips.
"What do you want from me? What are you going to do to us?" Dyana Rosey shouted.
Her mind spiraled—news stories of assault and murder flashed before her eyes. As far as she knew, she owed this man nothing. She only knew him because of the trouble at her uncle's café. Fear gripped her chest tighter and tighter as questions flooded her mind.
'What should I do? Running isn't an option! God!'
Her eyes flickered toward Marchos's bodyguard, who stood at a distance, still gripping his pistol, ready to fire at any moment. She couldn't let that happen.
"Is this revenge for your girlfriend? Or is it because I asked you to give my uncle some time? I really am sorry if I offended you. I respect you, so I hope we can talk this through calmly and properly," Dyana pleaded.
"You don't remember me?" Marchos Alexander asked coldly, ignoring her words.
"What are you talking about? You know we only just met!"
"Do you really not remember me, or are you pretending to forget?" His tone turned icy as his eyes bore into hers. Dyana forced herself to meet his stare.
"I truly don't know you. All I know is that you're the CEO of Sky. That's it! I don't understand! Why are you breaking into my house? Don't think just because you're rich you can do whatever you want! I'm begging you—leave my house now!!!" Dyana cried, her anger laced with fear. She genuinely had no idea who he was. Why was it so hard for him to believe?
'Ugh, even if I scream, no one will hear me? Don't tell me this place is soundproof?!'
"I see… You asked what I want? Relax, I won't kill you… I just want you." Marchos Alexander smiled.
"W-what? What nonsense are you talking about?" Dyana Rosey's eyes widened in disbelief, panic crashing over her. Confusion, dread, fear—all emotions tangled inside her chest.
"Rosey… my Rosey…"
'Rosey? Only Papa and Mama call me that. But why does it sound so familiar coming from him?' she thought nervously.
"Come and sit," Marchos invited.
"No! Are you insane? This is wrong! We have nothing to do with you! What do you even gain by doing this?" Tears welled in her eyes.
"Come." His voice hardened, commanding.
"No!! I said no!!! I beg you, please leave my house! I-I promise I won't report this to the police! Please!" Her sobbing grew uncontrollable. Fear consumed her whole.
She knew what kind of man Marchos Alexander was—news about him was everywhere. He would do anything for his own gain. Rumors of murder were not far-fetched. He was merciless.
Marchos signaled to his bodyguard. The man raised the pistol toward the two girls.
Dyana's breath hitched violently. She shut her eyes tight and nodded frantically, fear overwhelming her.
"O-okay! Okay! I'll go…" she whimpered, shoulders shaking as she tried to steady herself. Forcing her trembling legs to move, she slowly approached Marchos Alexander.
'Don't worry. He promised he wouldn't hurt you or Emma,' she reminded herself, though her chest tightened painfully. The same pain she had felt before returned, burning through her lungs. She drew a shaky breath.
Marchos stood and walked toward her. He noticed her pale face, her body trembling in distress.
"Look at me. Are you okay?" His deep voice startled her. She hadn't even realized he had moved so close.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. Dyana's heart pounded wildly, faster and faster, when his touch moved to her cheek. Their eyes locked. His piercing hazel eyes stole her breath away. Up close, without the sunglasses, she could no longer deny his striking appearance—tall, broad-shouldered, with warm brown skin and sharp features.
"You are so beautiful, my Rosey. And I know… even if you've forgotten me, your heart still beats for me. Right?" Marchos whispered, caressing her face before pressing a kiss to her forehead. Dyana froze, stunned.
'God, how did I let myself drift like this?' she cursed inwardly.
His arm slid firmly around her waist.
"What are you doing? Let go of me! Let me go!" she struggled, but he pulled her into his embrace. Her heart hammered wildly.
"Let me go!!! I said let me go!!" Their faces drew so close their noses touched, breaths mingling. Unexpectedly, he gripped her hair tightly and pressed his lips to hers without consent.
Dyana's body shook violently. She thrashed against him with all her strength, tears streaming down her face, but it was useless. Then—suddenly—his grip loosened.
She seized the chance and shoved him away with all her might.
Slap!!!
Her palm struck his cheek.
Breathing heavily, Dyana wiped her lips in disgust. Hatred burned in her eyes. Marchos staggered a step forward, yet a smirk still lingered on his face.
"Don't come near me!!!" Dyana screamed, her face flushed red with rage and shame. Still, he advanced.
"I said don't come closer! Please… please!" Her voice faltered, her strength crumbling. Collapsing to the floor, she sobbed helplessly.
Marchos gave a signal, dismissing his bodyguard. Before leaving, he cast one last look at her, his words chilling the air.
"I will make sure you become my wife and mine forever. Remember that."
But Dyana refused to look at him. She stared blankly at the white tiles, waiting until the men were gone. Relief finally flooded her, though her chest still ached painfully. She drew deep, shaky breaths. She had no idea how long she remained in that state.
Not long after, the sound of the front door creaking open made her heart jolt.
'Oh God, please… not him again…' She clenched her fists tightly, shutting her eyes.
"Dyan? Dyana!" Ryan's voice rang out as he rushed to her side.
"Dyan… are you okay? What happened?" He grabbed her trembling hands firmly.
"Thank God…" Dyana gasped, tears streaming anew as she lifted her face to him.
Ryan's chest tightened seeing her cry. His eyes darted to Emma, still unconscious on the sofa, before looking back at Dyana, his worry intensifying. What on earth had happened here?
The truth was, Ryan had come back to apologize. But the sight of the front door slightly open made him suspicious. Pushing it open, he was horrified to find Dyana collapsed in fear.
Dyana sobbed uncontrollably, burying herself in his embrace.
"Shh… I'm here," Ryan whispered, stroking her hair gently.
Her cries slowly weakened, her vision fading. Exhaustion seeped into every part of her.
"Dyan?" Ryan loosened his arms when her sobs stopped.
"Dyana! Dyana!!"
But Dyana Rosey only heard his desperate voice calling her name before everything went dark.
---