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“Where am I?”

Chloe Bishop bolted upright, her head spinning with a sickening heaviness. The room was cold, sterile, and completely unfamiliar. She scrambled to get out of bed, her heart hammering against her ribs. She couldn't be here. Tomorrow was her wedding day—the day she would finally marry Liam Martin. She had waited six long years for this dream to come true. She couldn't let anything, or anyone, get in the way now.

Outside the door, Liam leaned against the hallway wall, the orange glow of a cigarette illuminating his icy, handsome face. He looked at the man standing before him with a terrifying lack of emotion.

"Go in," Liam said flatly, flicking a stray ash onto the expensive carpet. "Just don’t kill her."

The man hesitated, his voice trembling as he glanced at the heavy door. "Mr. Martin... are you sure? She’s the city’s top 'IT Girl.' She’s your fiancée! You’re supposed to stand at the altar with her in less than twenty-four hours!"

"Get in there," Liam repeated. His voice was smooth, like silk, but it carried a chill that bit deeper than ice. "Don’t make me say it a third time."

Seconds later, a blood-curdling scream tore through the door and echoed down the silent corridor.

"Who are you?! Stay back! What are you doing... Get off me! Help! Liam, help me!"

Standing in the hallway, Liam listened to Chloe’s desperate pleas for mercy. He remained unmoved. His mind was miles away, consumed by the image of another woman—a woman covered in brutal, jagged scars. Chloe, don’t blame me, he thought, exhaling a thick, grey cloud of smoke. You aren’t innocent. I don’t believe for a second that you were clueless about what your father did.

Only a few hours earlier, the world had looked very different. Liam had been standing in a high-security hospital wing when Brandon Jay approached him. "Liam, we found the monster who kidnapped Sara Jay," Brandon had said, his eyes bloodshot with rage.

"Who?" Liam asked, his tall silhouette casting a long shadow over the bed where Sara lay. She was skeletal, a ghost of the woman she used to be, her skin a map of deep purple bruises.

Brandon spat out the name with pure venom: "Charles Bishop."

Liam had frozen. Charles Bishop—the man who was about to become his father-in-law.

"I see," Liam had replied, his voice calm even as a storm of vengeance brewed beneath the surface. "You’re Sara’s brother. What do you want to do?"

"Kidnap Chloe," Brandon growled. "Every ounce of pain Charles inflicted on my sister, I want to collect from his daughter—tenfold. A hundredfold." When Liam didn’t answer immediately, Brandon’s voice rose in a snarl. "What, getting cold feet? Right, you’re marrying her tomorrow. You’ve probably gone soft for her, while Sara suffered hell because of you!"

"There will be no wedding tomorrow," Liam had replied icily. "I’ll give you and Sara justice."

From the moment Charles Bishop touched Sara, the years of gratitude Liam felt toward the Bishop family vanished. The man had crossed the only line that mattered.

Back in the present, inside the dark room, Chloe fought with everything she had, but her strength was failing. Her clothes were torn, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Save me... Liam, save me!" Tears soaked into her hair as she sobbed. Why? Why is this happening? I was supposed to be his bride tomorrow... Why?!

Hearing her cry out his name, Liam inhaled sharply on his cigarette. After tonight, Chloe Bishop would be ruined. He couldn’t help but remember six years ago—the day a girl who looked like a literal princess had walked toward him with unwavering steps. She had pointed at him and declared, "I choose him to be my fiancé." Back then, Liam was a social pariah. He had lost his leg in a car accident and been cast aside by the Martin family. But she had chosen him anyway, giving the abandoned boy the power and status to reclaim his empire.

Liam crushed the cigarette butt under his expensive shoe and pulled out his phone. He sent a quick W******p message: "Stop. Get out of there."

Chloe, consider this payment for six years ago.

Brandon stepped out from the room, looking at Liam with pure disappointment. "You went soft in the end. Is this supposed to be fair to Sara?"

"Sara is kind," Liam said tonelessly. "She wouldn't want us to go this far. As for the wedding tomorrow... I’ll give everyone the 'closure' they deserve."

"Liam, save me!"

Chloe screamed as she bolted upright in her own bed, her hair damp with sweat and tears. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She frantically checked her silk pajamas. They were intact. She checked her wrists and chest—no bruises, no marks. She was in her own bedroom.

A dream? It felt too vivid. The phantom pain in her heart felt like a physical wound. But if it wasn't a dream, how were her clothes perfect? And why, in the dream, was Liam standing outside the door watching her ruin?

Sara Jay... That was a name she hadn't heard in years.

It’s just nerves, she told herself, trying to slow her breathing. It’s my wedding day. I’m just letting my deepest fears get the best of me.

"Chloe, honey, wake up! It’s the big day. No more lounging!" The sound of her mother’s cheerful voice from the hallway broke the tension. Chloe felt her muscles finally relax. It really was just a nightmare.

Two hours later, Chloe sat before a gold-trimmed vanity, a vision in white lace and silk. Her mother carefully brushed her hair, her eyes misting over. Chloe was the undisputed "IT Girl" of the city. At 5'6" with a delicate frame and breathtaking curves, she was a living masterpiece. But her most famous feature was her skin—luminous, flawless, and as smooth as fine porcelain.

"Look at you... my beautiful girl," her mother whispered. "My baby is finally getting married. Just focus on building a home with Liam. Have a few children, live a beautiful life together."

Chloe smiled, squeezing her mother’s hand. "I’ll be happy, Mom. I know Liam will be a wonderful husband."

"He’d better be," her mother choked out. "If he ever treats you wrong, your father and I will never forgive him."

"Alright, alright," Charles Bishop said from the doorway, his voice gruff but warm. "It’s a happy day. Don't start with the gloom."

Chloe reached out and patted her mother’s heavily pregnant belly, her face glowing with pure joy. "Don't worry, Dad. Liam promised to cherish me forever. I know he won't let me down."

At twenty-two, Chloe had no reason to doubt him. Liam was brilliant, gentle, and attentive. He was the perfect man. Six years of history couldn't be erased by a bad dream. She didn't notice the flicker of deep, dark worry in her father's eyes as he watched her smile.

Meanwhile, at the Martin Estate, in a quiet, high-security room across town, a woman lay on Liam’s bed. She was skeletal, her pale skin a map of jagged scars. One side of her face was swollen and red. This was the woman from the nightmare. This was Sara Jay.