Chapter 1: The Wrong Woman

The door slammed shut behind me, and I stumbled backward.

“Wait! What are you doing?”

I could barely see through the darkness. I had only come to deliver flowers, yet the stranger approaching me made my heart pound.

“Please, I think you’ve got the wrong person!”

He didn’t answer.

I searched for the door handle, but the room began spinning. My knees weakened, and everything faded into darkness.

Earlier that day, I had woken to my phone vibrating beside me. When I saw the delivery notification, I jumped out of bed.

“Oh, shit! I’m late!”

I grabbed my phone and hurried toward the door, but a familiar voice stopped me.

“Look at that orphan.”

I froze.

Ethan’s mother stood in the living room, wearing her usual disgusted expression. I had heard her call me an orphan countless times, but the word still hurt.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

“I have a delivery to make.”

“You haven’t even cooked for Ethan!”

“I’ll cook when I come back.”

She scoffed. “Do you think you can live in my son’s house and do whatever you want? Is that delivery more important than my son?”

I swallowed my frustration. “It’s just one delivery.”

“Who do you think you are to call me Mom? I told Ethan not to date someone like you!”

My fingers tightened around my phone. I cooked, helped pay bills, and gave Ethan most of my earnings, yet his mother still thought I wasn’t good enough.

I looked toward Ethan’s room.

“Ethan?”

He appeared, and relief washed over me until he glanced at his mother, then me.

“Please, just obey her,” he whispered. “Just this once.”

I waited for him to defend me.

He didn’t.

“Fine,” I murmured, putting my phone down and heading into the kitchen.

When I opened the refrigerator, I discovered there was no meat. I returned to the living room.

“Mom, there’s no meat.”

She looked me up and down. “Look at you. Why are you so useless?”

I lowered my head, fighting tears.

I often wondered whether life would have been different if my parents were alive. In the orphanage, I watched other children leave with new families while I remained behind. Some teased me because nobody had chosen me.

Then Ethan came into my life.

He defended me from bullies, became my friend, then my boyfriend. For the first time, I felt wanted.

When I left the orphanage, I thought life would improve. But the support covering my school fees ended, and I couldn’t afford to continue studying. I dropped out and worked to survive.

Still, I believed having Ethan made everything worthwhile.

At least Ethan loves me.

That thought kept me going when his mother made me question my worth. I had no parents or family to run to. Losing Ethan felt like losing the only family I had. I felt alone.

That night, I lay awake replaying the insults.

Useless. Orphan. Not good enough.

My phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. It was my coworker.

“Amelia, please, can you help me deliver some flowers? My son is sick, and I need to take him to the hospital.”

I sat up immediately. “Of course. Send me the address.”

“Thank you. I’ll cover your delivery tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it. I hope your son gets better.”

I dressed quickly and grabbed my bag. Near the door, Ethan’s mother noticed me speaking to a neighbour.

“Where are you going this late?”

“I’m going to make a delivery.”

“At this time? You’re always running around instead of staying home!”

I said nothing. Arguing only made things worse, so I left.

At the flower shop, I collected the bouquet and checked the address on my phone. The delivery was for a bar with hotel rooms upstairs. I climbed onto my bike and rode toward the destination.

The quiet streets and cool night air gave me a rare moment of peace.

Maybe working was the only thing I could control in my life.

At the address, I parked my bike, picked up the flowers, and entered the bar.

Before I could ask where to leave the bouquet, a man in a suit approached me. His expression brightened when he saw me.

“You’re here already?”

I blinked. “I’m sorry?”

He glanced at the bouquet. “You came for him, right?”

“No. I’m here to deliver these flowers.”

“Yes, I know. Come with me. He’s waiting.”

I hesitated. Perhaps the customer had changed the arrangements. The man seemed to expect me, so I assumed he had been sent to meet me.

“Sir, did the customer change the delivery location?” I asked.

He was already walking away. “Come on. He’s waiting.”

Still confused, I hurried after him.

“Could you please explain where I’m supposed to leave the flowers?”

He led me away from the bar and toward the hotel rooms. At one door, he stopped and gestured for me to enter.

“Go inside.”

I stared at him. “Can’t you take them to him?”

“He’s waiting for you,” he repeated before walking away.

Clutching the bouquet, I felt uneasy. Still, I didn’t want to leave without completing the delivery, so I convinced myself the customer wanted it handed over personally.

Taking a breath, I stepped inside.

The door slammed shut behind me.

“Wait! What are you doing?”

A man’s breathing came from somewhere in the darkness.

“Who are you?” I asked, backing away.

He didn’t answer.

“Please, don’t come any closer. I only came to deliver flowers!”

He moved toward me, and I desperately searched for the door handle.

“I think you’ve got the wrong person!”

My breathing quickened. The flowers slipped from my fingers. I tried to call for help, but my voice barely came out.

Then everything went dark.

The next morning, I slowly opened my eyes.

A man was lying beside me.

I froze, staring at his unfamiliar face. My heart pounded as I struggled to remember what had happened.

Who was this man, and how had I ended up in his room?