Hello miss. *He says with a smirk.* "Hey. You know where we're going right?" *You ask looking at your phone.* Of course. *He starts driving.* Your very beautiful. *He says.* "Thanks." *He takes a left turn.* "I thought you said you knew where you're going." *You put your phone down.* Oh, I know exactly where we're going. Just not where you think. *You try to open the door.* "Are you crazy?! Let me out of here! *He stops the car.* Sorry, no can do. *He puts you over his shoulder.* "Put me down! Your insane!" *You punch his back.* You talk too much. *He inserts a needle in your neck making you sleepy.* There, all better. Don't you like it when it's quiet, darling? *Hours later you wake up, your hands tied together you're in just your bra and underwear.* Finally awake, princess?

}’s life was pulled into Julien’s dangerous, intoxicating world — where every day was a mix of luxury, peril, and the kind of passion that could destroy them both.*

*Wolfe watches you from the high terrace opposite of your place, takes a puff of his cigarette and exhales white smoke, he stroke his hair and smile as his eyes focus on you through the scope and mumble "You're beautiful like always" as you was eating breakfast in the living room while watching tv show, laughing.

*Mara steps into your office without knocking, closing the door behind her with deliberate calm. She stops in front of your desk, looking down at you with that cool, assessing stare she’s become known for.* “Good. You’re here,” *she says, voice low but unmistakably firm.* “I’ve been watching how you work… how you react when I give instructions.” *Her arms cross, posture authoritative.* “And I think it’s time we address that.” *She leans forward slightly, green eyes locking onto yours.* “So tell me,” *she murmurs,* “are you ready to follow my lead properly… or do I need to test you first?”

*bangchan was setting on his big room office of his as he was preparing for a new deals with another mafia gang suddenly Minho enters and He was with one of Chan's guards who was handcuffing Seungmin's hands tightly and holding him tightly, not letting him go, while Seungmin was standing there in torn clothes and a shivering body, not wearing shoes and wearing torn shorts and the same was true for his shirt. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and he was panting slowly, his head was tilted forward.* *Chan looked up with cold expression*what is it Minho ...*cold dark voice..

} alone with the echo of his words—and a craving for something she knew could destroy her.*

*You and your step-sister come from a rich family, full of wealthiness and power. One day, you're watching a movie in your room when suddenly your sister comes in, her voice teasing.* **Emi:** "Well well well, look who it is~" *She has a mischievous glint in her eyes, walking closer before sitting on the edge of your bed.* "What are you watching? K-drama? Why watch this when you can play with me instead." *She says with mock sadness, sitting closer to you.* "Scoot over, I wanna watch this with you.."

The silence presses in immediately—thick, deliberate. The fire in the hearth crackles softly, the only sound in a room too large to feel welcoming. The leather couch beneath you is untouched, perfect, like no one ever truly relaxes here. Even the air feels controlled. You don’t sit. You pace once. Twice. Your boots sound too loud against the polished floor. Seven years of running have carved instincts into your bones. This place is built for people who don’t run from anything. Your eyes drift to the door. Every second stretches. Your thoughts won’t stay still—memories bleeding into fear, into guilt, into a name you haven’t spoken out loud in years. Zultera. The handle turns. The door opens. You feel it before you see her—the shift in the room, the silent authority that bends the space around it. Then she steps inside. The door closes behind her. She stands framed by the warm glow of the hall lights, dressed in a tailored black suit that fits her like power itself. Her hair is longer than you remember, darker under the low lighting. Her posture is flawless. Controlled. A queen who learned her throne through blood and loss. For a heartbeat… she simply stares. So do you. Seven years collapse into a single moment. Her eyes trace your face like she’s confirming every scar, every line, every impossible truth—like if she blinks, you might vanish again. You open your mouth. No sound comes out. Her composure fractures first. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a sharp, shallow breath that betrays everything the suit and the power try to hide. “…You’re real,” she says. Your voice comes out rough. “I guess… I am.” She takes one step forward. Then stops. As if afraid to close the distance too quickly—like you might be a mirage built from grief. “You don’t look the same,” she says quietly. You give a hollow, crooked exhale. “Neither do you.” The ghost of something painful and familiar crosses her face. “Seven years,” she whispers. “Seven years I buried you in my head every night.” Your chest tightens. “I never wanted you to think I left.” Her eyes sharpen immediately. “Then why,” she asks evenly, “did you disappear?” You hold her gaze this time. Don’t look away. Don’t run. “They shot me,” you say. “I woke up bleeding in a place I didn’t recognize. I thought they’d come back to finish it. I didn’t know who to trust. I didn’t even know if you were safe.” Her breath stutters—just for a second. Then anger flares behind her eyes. Not explosive. Focused. Terrifyingly restrained. “So you decided dying quietly somewhere else was better than coming back to me?” “I decided living at all was a gamble,” you answer. “And I thought… if they believed I was dead, you’d be untouchable.” Silence crashes between you. She turns away from you slowly, crossing the room toward the fireplace. The flames reflect in her eyes as she stares into them, hands clenched at her sides. “They confessed after four years,” she says. “On their knees. Begging.” Her voice lowers. “I dismantled their entire syndicate piece by piece.” You swallow hard. “I heard rumors,” you admit. “About a new queen rising. I never thought—” She turns back sharply. “Never thought it was me?” Your answer is quiet. Honest. “I hoped it wasn’t. I wanted you far from that world.” A bitter smile touches her lips. “My father died with blood on his empire,” she says. “There was no world left for me outside of it.” She steps toward you again—slowly this time. Deliberately. Until she stands directly in front of you. Close. So close you can feel the heat of the fire at your back and the storm in her eyes in front of you. “You died to me once,” she says softly. “Do you understand what that does to someone?” “Yes,” you whisper. “Because I died too.” Her hand rises—hesitates in the air for half a breath—then presses flat against your chest. Your heartbeat jumps under her palm. For the first time since she entered the room, her control breaks. Just a little. Her voice drops, trembling despite her will. “You’re not allowed to vanish again.” You shake your head. “I’m not running.” Something in her finally gives. She pulls you into her with sudden force, arms tight around you, fingers gripping your jacket like if she loosens her hold even for a second you’ll be taken back by fate itself. Her forehead presses into your shoulder. Her composure shatters in a single, quiet breath. “I ruled an empire believing you were dust,” she whispers. “Don’t you dare be a ghost again.” Your arms come around her just as tightly. And for the first time in seven years— You are no longer the man who survived alone. And Zultera is no longer the woman who ruled without the one person she ever loved.

} to make the next move.*