what have they done to my whole life?

The first thing Camella felt was the pounding in her head.

She slowly opened her eyes, squinting against the morning sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"...Where am I?"

She pushed herself up, only to freeze.

This wasn't the hotel.

This wasn't even her home.

The bedroom was enormous, decorated with elegant black and gold furnishings that screamed wealth. Every piece of furniture looked as though it had cost more than a luxury car.

Her breathing quickened.

Then she noticed the white dress lying crumpled on the floor.

Her engagement dress.

"No..."

Her trembling gaze shifted to the king-sized bed.

A man was sleeping beside her.

His face was breathtakingly handsome even in sleep, his features sharp and commanding.

Camella's heart nearly stopped.

Alexander Kingston.

The billionaire CEO whose name dominated magazines, business news, and television screens.

"What...?"

Fragments of the previous night flashed through her mind.

The toast.

The dance with Adrian.

Serena handing her a drink.

Feeling dizzy.

Walking into the hallway.

Then...

Nothing.

"I don't remember..." she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

She hurried out of the bed, clutching the blanket tightly around herself.

"What happened to me?"

Just then, the bedroom door opened.

A middle-aged man in a perfectly pressed navy suit stepped inside. Behind him stood two security guards.

He barely spared Camella a glance.

"My name is Herald Hawthorne," he said in a calm, businesslike tone. "I serve as Mr. Alexander Kingston's personal attorney."

Camella stared at him.

"I... I don't understand."

"You don't need to."

He placed a thick cream-colored envelope on the bedside table.

"There is enough money inside to compensate you for your inconvenience."

Camella looked at the envelope, then back at him.

"...Compensate me?"

"Take it and leave quietly."

His words were cold, as if he were discussing a routine business transaction.

She felt as though the floor had vanished beneath her feet.

"My life..." she whispered. "I was supposed to marry someone. I don't even know how I got here."

Mr. Hawthorne's expression never changed.

"Whatever happened between you and Mr. Kingston is a private matter. It ends today."

Camella's tears spilled freely.

"I didn't ask for money! I asked what happened to me!"

Silence.

The lawyer simply adjusted his cufflinks.

"My employer values his privacy. You will not contact him. You will not speak to the media. You will not attempt to profit from this incident."

His tone was neither angry nor cruel.

It was worse.

It was indifferent.

As though Camella wasn't even a person.

As though she were simply another problem to be erased.

"You may keep the envelope," he added. "Or throw it away. It makes no difference."

He turned toward the door.

"Oh, and Miss Camella..."

She looked up with tear-filled eyes, hoping—just hoping—that someone had finally seen her pain.

Instead, he said,

"Please use the private exit. Mr. Kingston would prefer not to be seen with you."

The door clicked shut.

Camella stood frozen in the middle of the room.

Her engagement was ruined.

Her future was uncertain.

And to the most powerful man in the city...

She wasn't even worth an explanation.

She was just another inconvenience to be swept aside.

Holding back a sob, she slowly looked at the untouched envelope on the table.

Then she whispered,

"What have they done to my life?"

Was that what her dignity was worth?

Her trembling fingers curled into fists as tears streamed silently down her face.

Just hours ago, she had been celebrating the happiest day of her life.

Now...

She couldn't even explain how she had ended up in the bed of a man she'd never met.

"I didn't ask for this..." she whispered brokenly.

She glanced at Alexander Kingston.

He remained asleep, his breathing calm and steady, completely unaware of the storm raging inside the room.

For a fleeting second, she considered waking him.

Maybe he knew what had happened.

Maybe he had answers.

She took a hesitant step toward the bed before stopping herself.

No.

His lawyer had already made his position painfully clear.

To them, she was nothing but an inconvenience.

Wiping away her tears, she bent down to retrieve her engagement gown from the floor. The once-pristine white fabric was now wrinkled and creased.

Just like her dreams.

Ignoring the envelope, Camella quietly walked out of the penthouse.

Outside, the morning air was cold.

The bustling city carried on as though nothing had happened.

People laughed.

Cars honked.

Street vendors called out to passing customers.

Yet Camella felt as if her entire world had come to an end.

She hailed a taxi.

"Where to, miss?" the elderly driver asked kindly.

She hesitated.

"...The Grand Crest Hotel."

The driver nodded and pulled away.

Throughout the ride, Camella stared blankly out the window, replaying fragments of the previous night.

The champagne.

The dizziness.

The hallway.

A stranger catching her before she fell.

Everything after that...

Nothing.

Her head throbbed with frustration.

"Please... let this all be a nightmare."

she thought within herself rubbing her hands on her forehead as tears streamed down her eyes.

The hotel lobby was unusually quiet.

Most of the decorations from the engagement celebration had already been removed.

A few employees exchanged curious glances as Camella walked inside wearing yesterday's wrinkled gown.

She ignored them.

The only person she wanted to see was Adrian.

Surely, once she explained everything, he would believe her.