Isabella slowly stirred awake as sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the presidential suite at The Argent Royale — a hotel so exclusive that only the city's elite could afford to stay there.
Every inch of her body ached. Her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, and a suffocating wave of exhaustion pressed against her chest. Panic fluttered in her stomach as she tried to remember… what had happened last night?
It had been her eighteenth birthday. She remembered the laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses with her friends — her boyfriend, Victor, and her cousin, Aurelia. She had sipped a cold drink, feeling light and carefree… until sudden weakness overtook her. Aurelia had caught her as she swayed, whispering soothing words, insisting on escorting her upstairs to rest. But somewhere along the corridor, Aurelia had stopped, excused herself — and vanished.
After that… nothing.
Isabella's heart pounded as she struggled to sit up. Her vision blurred for a moment, then cleared — and her eyes widened in shock.
She was completely naked.
And beside her, a man lay asleep.
A sickening wave of dread crashed over her. Could it be Victor? Shakily, she turned her head to see his face.
And then — horror.
It wasn't Victor. It was Adrian Frost.
Her mind refused to accept what her eyes were seeing. No… this can't be real. How could she possibly be here — in his bed? Maybe this was a nightmare, maybe—
Her thoughts froze when she saw the crimson stain on the pristine white sheets.
Her breath caught.
Her trembling fingers clutched the blanket to her chest. The truth hit her like a blade to the heart. Her virginity was gone — taken by Adrian Frost.
Tears pricked her eyes, but there was no time for them. Panic and disbelief clawed at her chest. She scrambled out of bed, grabbing her scattered clothes from the floor. Every movement felt like wading through fog.
Behind her, she heard the faint rustle of Adrian stirring awake.
His eyes snapped open. The instant he saw a woman's retreating figure, his expression hardened. Anger flashed across his face. The fragments of last night returned to him in brutal clarity.
He threw on his clothes with practiced speed and pulled out his phone."David. Get to my room. Immediately." His voice was cold and sharp.
Adrian's jaw clenched, fury coursing through him. Only last night, at Frost Mansion, he had once again rejected Jane's marriage proposal — because his heart already belonged to another woman. And now, some stranger had ended up in his bed.
He remembered clearly: he had been drinking alone in the VIP lounge when a waitress approached him with a bottle of wine — "a gift from the manager," she'd said, "the rarest collection of The Argent Royale." He had taken a few sips… and then everything went black.
Now he understood. He had been drugged. This was a setup. A conspiracy.
Inside the bathroom, Isabella stood under the cold shower, water running down her trembling body as her thoughts raced wildly. What was she supposed to do now? How could she ever face him? Or herself?
A sharp knock on the suite door pulled her back to reality.
David arrived in less than a minute. "Good morning, Mr. Frost," he greeted, bowing slightly. But before he could say more, he froze. The air in the room was suffocating — cold, tense, and heavy.
His eyes fell on the bed. On the bloodstained sheet. A chill ran down his spine. Something had happened — something serious.
For three years, Adrian Frost had chased his first love, Ms. Isabella Grace. David knew the story well. How could his Alpha have ended up in bed with another woman, and under such circumstances?
David waited silently.
After several long seconds, Adrian's voice finally broke the silence — deep, calm, but deadly cold."Find out who drugged me last night," he said. "I want a full report within two hours. And I want everything about that girl. Every single detail. No one does this to me and walks away."
Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Isabella's thoughts were in chaos. For the past year, she had been rejecting Adrian's proposals — firm in her resolve, untouched by his power, unmoved by his persistence.
And now… she was the woman in his bed.
Her reflection in the mirror felt foreign. Her chest tightened with rage and disbelief. Did he do this to me? Did he force me… just to claim me?
No. She would never let him get away with it.
Fueled by anger, Isabella slipped into her dress, brushed away her tears, and pushed open the bathroom door.
Adrian was just about to leave the room when her voice stopped him cold."Adrian!"
He turned — and froze.
It was her. Isabella Grace.
For a moment, time itself seemed to stop. His pulse faltered, his mind reeled. Her? The girl he had loved in silence for years. The one he had rejected every other woman for.
It couldn't be. And yet, there she stood — in his room, in his shirt, in his life.
Even David was stunned. He had never expected to see Isabella here — the very girl who had once turned Adrian down countless times. He remembered clearly how Adrian had first met her during a business meeting with her father, Mr. Lawrence Grace, a rival tycoon. Even then, Adrian had known she was special — his fated mate.
For years, Adrian had kept his distance. She had been too young, too innocent, and he had waited — with a patience that nearly broke him. But when she turned seventeen, the news came like a dagger: she had a boyfriend. Victor.
Adrian remembered that day vividly — the helpless rage that consumed him when he saw her smile at another man. He could have destroyed Victor with a word. Yet he didn't. For the first time, Adrian Frost feared something he couldn't control — losing Isabella.
That fear had shattered his restraint. He confessed his feelings, laid his heart bare. But Isabella had rejected him — again and again.
And now, fate had twisted their worlds together in a single night neither could explain.
Adrian stared at her, disbelief and desire warring in his chest. The woman he had yearned for, the one who had haunted his dreams, was finally his.
But before he could speak — slap!
The sound cracked through the air.
Isabella's eyes burned with fury as she grabbed his shirt collar. "How dare you!" she shouted, her voice trembling. "I'll kill you for this!"
Adrian blinked, stunned for a second — then his expression darkened. In one swift motion, he caught her wrist and pulled her against him. His grip was firm, unyielding. His other hand slid to her waist, trapping her in place.
Before she could fight back, his lips crashed onto hers — fierce, demanding, claiming. It was a kiss of anger, of possession, of everything he'd held back for years.
Isabella froze, breath stolen, heart hammering wildly. When he finally released her, she stumbled back, her cheeks flushed with shock and fury.
David, sensing the storm between them, turned discreetly toward the window, pretending not to see.
Adrian smirked, his voice low and teasing."You're really something, Isabella. You came into my room, slept with me, and now you're blaming me for it?"
Isabella's mind spun. "I—I entered your room? That's impossible! You're lying!" she stammered, her voice breaking.
Adrian's chuckle was soft, dangerous. "If you think I'm lying," he said, eyes glinting, "you can check the room number yourself."
Isabella's heartbeat raced. Surprise, anger, and disbelief collided inside her. How could it be true? And yet, every word he spoke carried a chilling certainty she couldn't ignore.