Elena's POV
I wake up to sunlight stabbing my eyes and immediately know something is very, very wrong.
This isn't my bed. These aren't my sheets. And I'm not wearing any clothes.
Panic hits me like a fist to the chest.
I sit up too fast, and the room spins. My head pounds. My mouth tastes like metal and regret. But worse than the headache, worse than the nausea, is the complete blank space where last night should be.
I don't remember.
I remember the gala. Dad's cruel words. Vanessa handing me champagne. The room tilting sideways. Stumbling through a hallway.
Then... nothing. Just fragments. Gray eyes. Strong arms. A deep voice saying I was safe.
Feeling safe.
But I'm not safe. I'm naked in a stranger's hotel room with no memory of how I got here.
My hands shake as I search for my dress. It's on the floor, torn at the shoulder. My underwear is missing. There are marks on my skin—not bruises, but evidence. Evidence that something happened. Something I can't remember.
Oh God. What did I do?
The bathroom door is open, and I can see it's empty. I'm alone. Whoever was here is gone.
That's when I see the note on the pillow.
My fingers tremble as I pick it up. The handwriting is sharp, angry, masculine.
Last night was a mistake. Forget it happened. —A
I read it three times, each word hitting harder than the last.
Mistake.
Forget it happened.
He doesn't even sign his full name. Just "A." Like I'm not worth the extra letters.
Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I've cried enough in my life. I won't cry over some stranger who thinks I'm a mistake.
Even if he's right.
I grab my dress, pulling it on despite the tear. I need to leave. Need to get out of this room before I completely fall apart.
That's when I see the business card on the nightstand.
ADRIAN WOLFE
CEO, WOLFE ENTERPRISES
The world stops spinning and crashes instead.
Adrian Wolfe. The man Dad has been ranting about for months. The ruthless CEO who's taking over Chase Technologies. The enemy who's destroying my father's company.
I slept with him.
I gave my virginity to the man who's ruining my family.
And I don't even remember it.
My stomach lurches, and I barely make it to the bathroom before I throw up. I heave until there's nothing left, then sit on the cold tile floor, shaking.
How did this happen? I had one glass of champagne. One. I've never been drunk in my life—Mom taught me to be careful, to never lose control.
But I lost control last night. Completely.
And Vanessa gave me that drink.
The realization hits me like ice water. Vanessa, who's never been nice to me. Vanessa, who smiled when she handed me the champagne. Vanessa, who disappeared right after I drank it.
She drugged me.
My own sister drugged me and somehow got me to Adrian Wolfe's room. But why? What does she gain from this?
Unless...
My blood runs cold.
Unless she wanted exactly what happened. Wanted me to sleep with Adrian Wolfe. Wanted to create a scandal that would embarrass Dad right when the acquisition deal is closing.
I'm not the forgotten daughter anymore. I'm the liability.
I force myself to stand, to wash my face, to pull myself together. I can't fall apart. Not here. Not now.
I need to get home. Need to figure out what to do. Need to—
My purse is on the chair by the window. I grab it, checking for my phone. It's dead, but at least it's there.
I'm halfway to the door when I see something that makes my heart stop.
There's a camera in the corner of the room.
A security camera, small and discreet, pointed directly at the bed.
Someone was watching.
Or worse—someone was recording.
My legs almost give out. If there's video of last night, if someone has proof that I slept with Adrian Wolfe, it'll destroy everything. Dad's company. My reputation. Any chance I had at a normal life.
I should check the camera. Should see if there's a recording. But I can't. I can't watch whatever happened. Can't see myself doing things I don't remember.
I run.
Down the hallway, into the elevator, through the hotel lobby. People stare at my torn dress and smudged makeup, but I don't care. I just need to get away.
The morning air hits me like a slap. It's barely six AM. The city is just waking up. I don't have money for a cab, so I start walking.
My apartment is forty blocks away. My feet hurt in these stupid heels. But I walk anyway, because stopping means thinking, and thinking means accepting what happened.
I made it twenty blocks when my stomach lurches again.
This time, I know it's not just from the drugs.
I lean against a building, breathing hard, fighting the nausea. But it won't stop. My body knows something my brain hasn't accepted yet.
There are consequences to last night.
Consequences that won't disappear just because I can't remember.
I finally make it home to my tiny studio apartment. It's barely more than a closet, but it's mine. The one space Dad can't take from me because Mom left it to me in her will.
I lock the door, slide down to the floor, and let myself break.
I cry for my lost memory. For my stolen innocence. For the family that never wanted me and the sister who hates me enough to destroy me.
But most of all, I cry because somewhere in those blank hours, I felt safe. I felt wanted. And now that feeling is gone, replaced by a note calling me a mistake.
My phone finally charges enough to turn on. Immediately, texts flood in.
Vanessa: Where are you? Dad's furious.
Vanessa: You disappeared from the gala. So embarrassing.
Vanessa: Call me back. We need to talk.
I delete them all.
Then I see one from a number I don't recognize, sent at 2 AM: Sleep well, little sister. Hope you enjoyed your night with Mr. Wolfe. Check your email. —V
My hands shake as I open my email.
There's a message from an anonymous account with no subject line. Just an attachment.
A video file.
I know I shouldn't open it. Know it'll destroy me. But I have to know what happened. Have to see what I can't remember.
I click play.
The video is dark and grainy, but clear enough. It shows Adrian Wolfe's hotel room. Shows me stumbling in, drunk or drugged or both. Shows Adrian catching me.
Shows everything that happened after.
And there, in the corner of the screen, I see something that makes my blood freeze.
Adrian's face when he looks at me. It's not cold. Not calculating. It's tender. Worried. Like he actually cares.
But that's not what stops my heart.
It's the timestamp.
The video starts at 9:47 PM—fifteen minutes before Vanessa gave me the champagne.
The camera was already recording. Already waiting. Like someone knew exactly what was going to happen and wanted proof.
This wasn't an accident.
This was a setup.
And now whoever has this video has the power to destroy both me and Adrian Wolfe.
My phone rings. Unknown number.
My thumb hovers over the decline button, but something makes me answer.
"Hello?"
"Elena Chase." The voice is female, distorted, clearly using a voice changer. "I have a video that would be very interesting to the press. You with Adrian Wolfe. Very intimate."
My throat closes. "What do you want?"
"Right now? Nothing. I'm just letting you know I exist. That I'm watching." The voice laughs, cold and cruel. "Don't bother trying to find me. You won't. But I'll be in touch soon. When I need you to do something for me."
"Wait—"
The line goes dead.
I stare at my phone, at the paused video on my laptop, at the ruins of my life spread out around me.
Someone planned this. Someone drugged me, put me in Adrian's room, recorded everything, and now they're holding it over my head like a sword.
And I have no idea who they are or what they want.
But I know one thing for certain:
Last night wasn't just a mistake.
It was the beginning of something much, much worse.