CHAPTER 001
ISADORA’S POV
Isadora was having trouble breathing. The shadowy figure towered over her, his arms securing her to him like iron chains with a strength that sapped her remaining vitality. She tried to scream, but his lips, cold and heartless, pressed against hers like a beast in human flesh. His teeth dug deep into her skin, causing her neck to throb. Blood seeped down her delicate gown, leaving the fabric a bright red stain.
With the weight of a thousand unspoken promises, his icy eyes met hers as his wings, dark as night, arched like a deadly threat. Too vivid and painful to forget, the image blazed in her mind like a cursed vision. Would it end like this? Would there be no one to rescue her, leading to the loss of precious moments and memories?
As she fought against the numbness that spread through her limbs due to his cruel, supernatural power, hot tears streamed down her cheeks. She was immobile. unable to scream. Still, her only thought was, How did this happen?
Seven hours prior
Slumped at her desk, Isadora gazed at the enormous box in the corner. It was too large. Too full. Too much. She detested it. She dreaded the thought of what it might mean. The sudden change in everything was overwhelming.
In an attempt to avoid dealing with it, she tapped her fingers against her desk in the hopes that it would catch fire. However, it didn't. It never worked the way it did in the movies.
She sighed and began packing her life into cardboard by pushing the box in front of her. Every object felt heavy, every pen and piece of paper a memory she couldn't get back.
Behind her, a sweet voice laughed— too sweet, too sugary. "We're really going to miss you, Isadora." "Do you require assistance?"
Isadora muttered, hardly looking over her shoulder, "No." "I have it."
In a frustrated motion, the pencil she grabbed snapped in half as her fingers tightened around it.
The tall blonde with perfect curls, Lúcia, stood there grinning. Isadora found it intolerable. The look was too much to bear. Lúcia's air of superiority was like armor. Isadora chose not to respond.
Rather, she simply tossed her mouse—the one she had spent a lot of money on—into the box. This limited-edition mouse had significantly streamlined her gaming sessions. It was the one she was determined to keep.
She grunted and picked up the box, holding it tightly as she walked to the door.
Her former boss, Mr. Luiz, appeared like a storm waiting to break as the door swung open with a force that was almost violent. He looked at her, his eyes colder than she had ever seen them.
He sneered, "I assumed you would have left by now, Sra. Oliveira." "My directions were obvious, weren't they?"
Isadora grinned bitterly as she raised the box in her arms. "Sir, crystal clear. I'm going now.
However, he reached out and took the mouse from the top of her pile of possessions when she attempted to avoid him.
With a malicious tone, he uttered, "That belongs to the company, Sra. Oliveira."
"No, I own it!" Reaching for it back, Isadora snapped.
The box fell out of her hands during the struggle and landed on the floor with a loud clunk.
She stepped back, ready to grab her mouse as it rolled across the floor, but Mr. Luiz's foot struck it hard. He smirked as he turned back to face her and kicked it aside.
"Now, get out of my sight," he said sharply.
Isadora's jaw tightened, anger rising, but it was useless. The guards were already there, waiting for her to depart with icy, uninterested eyes.
She clutched her phone with trembling hands and gritted her teeth. She whispered, "I'll sue you for this."
Mr. Luiz picked up his phone and pressed a button without even flinching. He yelled, "Security, take Sra. Oliveira off the property."
"And we'll be following up on that report that claims you've been leaking company secrets," he said, giving her one last look. Remember that.
Even though Isadora's blood was boiling, she was able to control herself. The guards led her out, and she glanced at Llicia's smug smile as she passed. She wanted to wipe it off her face.
After arriving at her vehicle, she slammed her hands on the steering wheel. She had forfeited another task. She lost another moment of her life. The accusation of being a mole was the worst thing she could ever face. With that on their record, no employer would want to hire them.
Her mind was clouded by frustration. She was barely able to think. She checked her account and moaned at the empty balance as her phone buzzed in her hand. She had to get her old mouse back before she could purchase a new one. And how was she going to make ends meet without a job?
She sighed as she backed out of the parking lot, her problems pressing down on her. As if she didn't have enough on her plate already.
Her mind was too exhausted to consider her destination, so her car sailed aimlessly. When she ended up parking in front of the former café, it was almost instinctive. The café was not upscale or fancy, but rather a peaceful place to enjoy delicious food. She was also going hungry.
She ordered the chicken strips she always had while seated in her usual booth. She had no desire to try anything new. As she looked around, trying to shake the idea of her ruined life from her head, her foot bounced uneasily beneath the table.
However, an issue arose when her food was delivered. The golden-brown strips appeared unusual, almost as if they were coated in gold. They looked as if they were coated in gold. She scowled, questioning whether she had received the incorrect dish.
She noticed that they were already occupied with another table as she glanced around for the waiter to inquire. Isadora shrugged and bit into it. She had never tasted anything like it before. It was better than she remembered, savory and rich.
In a matter of minutes, she finished the meal, relishing each morsel. The waitress's smile turned from one of friendliness to one of horror when she reappeared.
She stammered, her face white, "I'm so sorry, there's been a mistake." "That wasn't intended for you."
Isadora blinked, perplexed. "What?"
The waitress gestured back to another table, where a lone man sat, observing the conversation. "It was intended for him."
Isadora's face turned red. "I had no idea! I had the thought—
The waitress gave a headshake. "You're not getting it. They weren't your typical chicken strips. He brought the ingredients from home. The restaurant couldn't replace them. And you consumed them all.
Isadora's stomach dropped. "Why don't you just produce more?"
"No!" The waitress's voice broke with annoyance. "We can't simply swap out ingredients like that. Everything has been ruined by you.
At that moment, the man at the table got up and approached, his presence demanding attention. With his tall stature, sharp features, and deep blue eyes that had an almost eerie intensity, he had the kind of appearance that seemed to belong in a magazine.
"What appears to be the issue?" he inquired with ease.
The waitress, still trembling, turned on him right away, but when she recognized him, her voice became less harsh. "I apologize for the confusion, sir. I didn't intend for this to occur.
Unfazed, the man grinned. "I believe I consumed your food." He spoke in a low, almost playful tone.
The waitress quickly covered her mouth as she blushed. "I—"
"Don't freak out," he cut in. "It was only an accident. The standard chicken strips are what I'll have. I know this place is excellent, so I brought my special ingredients. Really, I won't mind the ordinary ones.
His eyes sparkled as he gave Isadora a warm smile. "I apologize for the inconvenience. Do you want to eat with me? I could use some company because my companion left early.
Unsure of how to react, Isadora blinked. Despite her racing thoughts, she was disarmed by the charm in his voice.
"Yeah," she said reluctantly. "However, I sincerely apologize for your meal."
"Miss, you don't have to apologize." He arched an eyebrow.
"Isadora. Oliveira Isadora.
He grinned broadly. "It's a pleasure, Miss Oliveira. Let's not worry about the price of those special ingredients. Join me, please.
Isadora followed him to his table, but she couldn't get rid of the feeling that the moment was more than just a chance meal.
