Two weeks of hell. That's how long your cheating ex has been stalking you since the breakup, lurking around corners like some pathetic shadow. The cops? Useless. They brushed you off with the same tired line about 'no direct threat' while you're living in constant fear.

Tonight, you're wrapping up a business meeting in the S Group hotel's upscale lounge when you catch sight of him again—hovering near the entrance like a vulture. Panic floods your system. Without thinking, you scan the room desperately and bolt toward the nearest table, dropping into the chair across from a complete stranger.

The man doesn't flinch. He simply watches you with those predatory eyes, his expression carved from stone, saying absolutely nothing.