The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a golden hue on the unfamiliar room. Debby woke slowly, her body aching and her mind clouded. She stretched, but the sharp pain across her shoulders made her wince. Confusion gripped her as her gaze wandered around the room—this wasn't her bed, and she certainly didn't recognize the expensive, minimalist decor.

Then her heart stopped. A man lay beside her, half-covered by the white silk sheets. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and strikingly handsome, with tousled dark hair framing his face. But all Debby could focus on was the horror rising in her chest.

She tried to remember how she ended up here. The memories came in fragments—Precious insisting on taking her out to celebrate her 22nd birthday, the laughter, the sparkling dress Precious had picked for her, and the club's loud music. Then, darkness.

A sob escaped her lips. She scrambled to sit up, realizing with a sinking feeling that her dress was gone. Instead, she was wearing an oversized men's shirt.

"What… happened?" she whispered to herself, tears blurring her vision.

Debby had been hopeful for her birthday this year. For the first time in years, Precious had shown her a sliver of kindness. After her mother's tragic death, life had been a nightmare. Her father remarried Lucy, a woman whose bitterness ran as deep as her fake smile. Lucy brought along her two children, Precious and Matthew, and from day one, they made sure Debby felt unwelcome.

Her father, once her protector, seemed to forget she existed. She became the scapegoat for every mishap in the house. Still, she clung to her studies and dreams of a brighter future.

But now, staring at the man beside her, those dreams felt shattered. She couldn't bear to think of what had been taken from her.

Suddenly, the man stirred. His eyes fluttered open, revealing sharp hazel eyes that immediately locked onto her. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice deep and alarmed.

Debby stammered, "I… I don't know how I got here. Please… where are my clothes?"

The man frowned, his gaze narrowing as though he were trying to piece together the same puzzle. "This is my private suite. No one's allowed here unless I approve it. Did someone send you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Debby cried. She clutched the shirt tighter around her. "I didn't mean to be here!"

The man stared at her, his expression softening slightly. He stood, draping a robe over his broad frame, and handed her a coat. "You need to leave," he said, his tone cold.

Humiliated and overwhelmed, Debby slipped into the coat and grabbed her handbag. She ran out of the room, her tears falling freely.