The night grew darker. The streetlights flickered dimly, casting faint glows along the empty road. Ryan turned off the car engine, letting the silence consume him. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, eyes fixed on the empty windshield yet his mind was tangled in chaos.
Dyana Rosey. That name echoed endlessly in his head, like a sound that refused to fade. Her face, her soft smile, her calm voice even in fear all of it weighed heavily on his chest.
And now, that name appeared again… Marchos Alexander.
The mysterious man who somehow seemed to be connected to Dyana Rosey.
How did they know each other? What exactly was their relationship?
Ryan took a deep breath, then slammed his fist softly against the steering wheel.
"Why do I feel like this…" he muttered hoarsely anger, confusion, and jealousy mixing inside him.
He knew he had no right to feel that way. Dyana Rosey wasn't his. But the thought of another man possibly having a place in her life burned his heart.
"Marchos Alexander…" he repeated the name, as if trying to uncover its meaning.
He closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat, letting the sound of rain that had begun to fall soothe his anger.
But deep inside his heart, there was one feeling he feared to admit—
He was afraid of losing Dyana Rosey.
Suddenly, the phone on the passenger seat vibrated.
The screen lit up.
"Private Number."
Ryan froze. His breath caught.
He stared at the phone for a long moment, weighing whether to answer. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he picked it up.
"Yes," he said flatly, eyes scanning the surroundings, alert.
A deep, rough male voice came from the other end one that ordinary people wouldn't recognize.
"Where are you now, Ryan? The goods have arrived safely, but I heard the cops are starting to sniff around."
Ryan closed his eyes, his jaw tightening.
"I told my men to handle it. Don't worry about me," he said coldly.
"Don't screw up, Ryan. One wrong move, and it's all over. I won't protect you again."
The line went dead. The only sound left in the car was Ryan's heartbeat. His hands trembled slightly as he put the phone back down.
He lowered his gaze to the small black ring on his middle finger—a mark worn only by those within that dark circle.
"I shouldn't have gotten involved again…" he whispered.
But the world he walked in wasn't one easily left behind.
His mind drifted back to Dyana Rosey her face flickered in his thoughts, like light piercing through the filth of his tainted life. He exhaled, staring out at the rain now pouring heavily outside.
"If she ever finds out who I really am… she'll probably hate me forever."
***
Marchos Alexander stood before a large mirror in the bathroom of his grand mansion. Steam swirled in the air, cloaking the marble walls that gleamed under the crystal lights. His hair was still wet; a droplet ran down his sharp jaw and onto his broad chest.
He breathed out slowly, took a towel, and began to wipe his face until his hand froze.
His fingers stopped at his lips.
Those lips.
The memory hit him without warning the softness of Dyana Rosey's lips, her fast heartbeat as she tried to fight him off, and the look in her eyes, torn between fear and confusion.
Marchos closed his eyes briefly, a faint smile curling on his lips.
"Rosey… my Rosey," he whispered in his deep, velvety voice.
His fingers brushed his lips again, as if he could still feel the trace of that kiss.
But this time, his smile turned into a dark reflection.
"I gave you a chance to run, darling," he murmured, staring at his reflection. "But this time… you won't get away."
The mirror reflected the face of a man calm on the surface but behind those eyes burned an obsession he could no longer hide.
Marchos Alexander stepped into the grand lobby of his towering company building.
Each of his footsteps echoed against the marble floor, and every gaze turned toward him—people lowered their heads in respect and fear.
His face was calm, but the cold, commanding aura surrounding him made everyone uneasy.
Then, he stopped.
At the reception desk stood a young woman he knew all too well Dyana Rosey.
Her soft hair framed a face filled with anxiety, though she tried to appear composed. When their eyes met, the world seemed to freeze.
Marchos stared, almost in disbelief. Without a word, he began to walk toward her.
Every pair of eyes followed him. Whispers spread across the lobby. The elusive, emotionless CEO was walking straight to a woman.
Dyana Rosey swallowed hard. Her heart pounded wildly, anger now overtaking the fear left in her chest.
And when Marchos Alexander stood before her was tall, imposing, radiating power.Dyana Rosey raised her hand and—
SLAP!
The sound echoed through the entire lobby.
Gasps filled the air.
Some staff covered their mouths, stunned by the girl's audacity.
The bodyguards moved instantly, but Marchos lifted a hand to stop them.
"Don't touch her," he ordered in a deep, calm tone.
A faint smear of blood appeared on his lip, but he only smiled a thin, dangerous smile that sent chills down Dyana's spine.
"First slap…" his voice was low but carried through the hall. "I get it. Maybe because you were scared that night."
He stepped closer, his breath brushing her cheek.
"But…" he tilted his head slightly, his smile turning darker. "…what's the second one for, hmm, my Rosey?"
His tone was mocking, yet a subtle tremor at the edge of his voice hinted that he was challenging her to answer.
Dyana Rosey clenched her fists, tears brimming but she refused to let them fall.
"I'm not afraid of someone like you," she said quietly, firmly dropping any trace of respect from her voice.
Marchos Alexander chuckled softly a low, chilling sound.
He leaned closer, until barely an inch separated them.
"You've got some guts, huh, my Rosey."
"Stop calling me Rosey!" she snapped.
Her voice trembled, but her stance was firm.
"That night you broke into my house, you hurt my friend. And now my uncle!
I'm not here to play your games, I just want to know one thing. What's the real meaning behind your offer to let my uncle Edward open a café in your company? I don't even know you!"
"My Rosey," Marchos said softly, though his tone carried power. "Come with me to my office. We'll talk there. This place… isn't suited for drama."
"I want to discuss it here!" Dyana Rosey shot back, her voice sharp with anger.
But the stares around her made her uneasy. Some staff pretended to work, but their eyes were clearly watching.
A few whispered; one even lifted a phone, camera pointed toward them.
Marchos Alexander noticed. His eyes narrowed.
"They're starting to record," he said quietly enough for her to hear.
He leaned closer, his voice low and dangerous.
"If you don't come with me right now, I'll kiss you in front of everyone here. I don't care if they record it but I think you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
Dyana Rosey froze. Her heartbeat raced, her face flushed not from embarrassment, but from anger mixed with fear.
"You…" she whispered, trembling. "You're insane. You have no right to threaten me like this."
"And you have no other choice," Marchos Alexander replied calmly, his sinister smile returning.
At last, Dyana Rosey clenched her bag tightly. Her breathing was heavy, but she slowly followed Marchos toward the elevator. Every step felt heavy, and every stare behind her felt like a blade piercing her back.
Marchos pressed the elevator button, then stood silently beside her.
As the doors closed, he turned slightly toward her, his lips curling into a half-smile.
"Good girl," he murmured, softly enough that only she could hear.
Dyana Rosey glared back at him, eyes glistening with anger and confusion.
The elevator doors shut completely leaving behind stunned employees who couldn't tell whether they had just witnessed a confrontation or the beginning of something far more dangerous.
The glass door closed with a sharp click. The room fell silent except for the hum of the air conditioner.
Marchos Alexander walked to his desk, unbuttoning his sleeves. "Now… you can be as angry as you want. No one's recording."
Dyana Rosey stood tall before him, her eyes blazing.
"What exactly did you mean by offering my uncle Edward a café space in your company?"
Marchos Alexander smiled faintly his eyes calm, yet dangerously unreadable.
"Meaning? I simply helped a small business that needed it. Besides, I thought that café would make a good resting spot for my staff."
"I don't understand why you're doing all this! I don't even know you! Why are you ruining my life?" she shouted, her voice breaking.
Marchos Alexander approached slowly. "You really don't know me?"
Dyana Rosey stepped back, lowering her gaze to hide her tears. "You never know when to stop, do you? How many times must I say " I don't know you!"
He smiled coldly, his eyes dark.
"But I've known you for a long time. And when it comes to you… I just don't know how to stop."
He stepped closer. Dyana Rosey backed up until her back hit the glass wall.
"How can you know me if I've never met you?" she cried.
Marchos Alexander's lips curved into a faint, eerie smile. "There are things you don't need to know. It's enough that I know who you are."
"No!" Dyana Rosey shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm not yours! Leave me alone! Please!"
Marchos Alexander looked at her for a long time, then lowered his gaze slightly.
"I'm not bothering you, Rosey. I'm just taking back what's already mine."
"You're insane," she whispered, shaking. "I don't know you and I don't want to."
She turned and fled, slamming the door behind her.
Marchos didn't move. He just watched her go, the smile never leaving his face.
"It's okay, my Rosey," he murmured to himself. "One day… you'll remember who I am."
After leaving Marchos's office, Dyana Rosey wandered aimlessly down the corridor. Every step felt heavy. Every breath carried pain.
Her mind replayed her uncle Edward's words from days ago:
"You know what, Dyan? I got an incredible offer. Marchos Alexander's company wants me to reopen the café inside their building. He said he loved the old concept I had."
Edward had laughed joyfully then his face bright, full of hope.
Dyana Rosey had only smiled faintly at that time.
But now… those words echoed in her mind like a slap.
Marchos Alexander?
He was the one who offered it?
Her heart pounded. Her hands trembled.
Why her uncle's café? Why her family?
Was he trying to get closer to them… to her?
Her chest tightened.
She remembered that horrifying night when her door was broken open, when she faced Marchos Alexander for the first time. His eyes, his low cold voice, the kiss that still haunted her.
She bit her lip, holding back her tears.
She wanted to warn her uncle to scream and tell him to reject the offer.
But she couldn't. She knew how much Edward had fought to survive, to rebuild.
"I can't crush his hope… but I also can't let Marchos Alexander near my family."
Her knees felt weak. She stood in front of the elevator for a long time, unmoving.
At last, her tears fell quietly.
"Why is all this happening to me…" she whispered brokenly.