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Chapter 1

"Anastasia, help! I've been molested at the club!"

The desperate and helpless sound of her best friend's voice was the only thing on Anastasia Tillman's mind as she rushed over to the clubhouse.

Room 808. Anastasia looked up at the number plaque on the door of the private room. It was the same room number that her best friend, Hayley Seymour, had texted her. Without another thought, she barged through the door to save her friend.

When the door swung open under her hand, she was greeted by the darkness within. Suddenly, a strong hand clasped around her wrist and dragged her into the dark room, followed by a loud thud as the door slammed shut.

"Hey—who are you, and what do you want?!" Anastasia shrieked, her eyes darting around wildly as she tried to make out her surroundings.

"Settle down, and I'll treat you well." A man's deep and husky voice spoke close to her ear.

The next second, Anastasia was unceremoniously tossed onto the couch, and before she could scramble to her feet, a lean and strong body pinned her down.

She let out a muffled cry when a pair of lips that tasted like peppermint captured hers.

The man on top of her felt burning hot to the touch. A sense of hopelessness brought tears to her eyes as she tried to struggle against the man, but in the end, she could do nothing but endure the man's ferocity.

An hour later, Anastasia staggered out of the room, looking disheveled. She had only just been through a nightmare, but that didn't distract her from worrying about her best friend's safety.

She was just about to call Hayley's number when she saw a group of men and women walking out the side door. Under the lights, she instantly recognized the two of the women in the group.

One happened to be Hayley, her best friend who had cried for help on the phone earlier, and the other was Anastasia's stepsister, Erica Tillman. The two girls walked side by side with their arms linked, as if they were the closest of friends.

Shock and rage colored Anastasia's features when she saw them. "Stop right there, Hayley!" she called out loudly over the distance as her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

Upon hearing this, Hayley and Erica swiveled around to face her. Anastasia glowered at them, ashen-faced as she demanded of Hayley, "Why would you lie to me?!"

Hayley smirked. "It's not my fault that you're always so gullible, Anastasia."

"Did you have a good time with that gigolo back there?" Erica asked in a sing-song voice, smiling wickedly.

It was only then that Anastasia realized that both of them had set her up. The chastity she had held dear for the past nineteen years was now sacrificed for their despicable glee.

Presently, Hayley's eyes were frosty as she seethed, "Did you actually think I was your friend, Anastasia? I've been living in your shadow ever since we met! I hate you, and I want nothing more than to ruin that face of yours!"

Erica, on the other hand, swiftly interjected by mocking, "I have the proof I need to show Dad that you've been pimping yourself for money at the club. It won't be long until you're thrown out of the house!"

"You two—" Anastasia was so furious that she swayed. Her body was in tatters after the ordeal she had been through, and the collective weight of her friend's betrayal and her sister's cruelty nearly knocked her down.

"Let's go, Hayley! We don't want to be seen with trash, do we?" With her arm looped through Hayley's, Erica led her toward the sports car she had parked by the curb.

Three days later, at the Tillman Residence, a low male voice yelled out in rage, "You became an escort for money just because I wouldn't let you go abroad for your studies? How can I, Francis Tillman, be capable of having such a shameless daughter like you?"

"Dad, I didn't—"

"You didn't? But you did, Anastasia! How could you go to such shameless lengths? Did we starve you, or did we deprive you of anything? I can't believe you would pimp yourself to random strangers in a filthy clubhouse! For your sake, I hope you haven't brought any disease back to this house. Who knows what my daughter and I could have caught from you," the woman who was dressed in jewels and fine clothes sneered from where she sat on the couch.

"Dad, I really didn't do it. I—" Anastasia tried to explain herself.

However, Francis did not want to hear another word from her. He glowered at her maliciously as he snapped, "Still lying to me, I see. Get out of this home right now! I will not stand to have you under my roof. No daughter of mine could be so shameless. From now on, you are not my child!"

Meanwhile, on the staircase landing, Erica watched this scene play out as she leaned against the banister with her chin propped on her hand. Everything was going exactly the way she had planned. In a matter of minutes, Anastasia was going to be cast out of the house and wander around like some pathetic stray mutt.

Downstairs in the living room, Anastasia fell silent when she saw the thunderous and disappointed look on her father's face. She wordlessly rose from her seat and walked up the stairs to pack up her things.

She had only just rounded the landing when Erica barricaded her. With her arms crossed haughtily in front of her chest, the younger girl sneered, "Get out of here! Don't linger around like an eyesore. This house will never have a place for you ever again!"

Anastasia clenched her fists as she glowered at Erica's pleased expression.

Seeing the hatred and anger in Anastasia's eyes, Erica leaned forward. "What, do you want to slap me or something?" She turned her cheek toward the fuming girl and said smugly, "Go right ahead, then!"

Without holding back, Anastasia brought her hand down across Erica's face, resulting in a hard slap.

"Ah!" Erica let out a shrill cry. "You just hit me! Mom, Dad—Anastasia just hit me!" She howled as she bolted down the stairs.

Naomi Lowell quickly pulled her daughter into her arms and cried up the stairwell, "How dare you strike my daughter, Anastasia! What the hell are you playing at?!"

Francis glanced at the red imprints on Erica's cheek, and he had never been more disappointed in his life. When did my oldest daughter become so infuriatingly rebellious?

"Dad, it hurts..." Erica sobbed as she burrowed into her father's arms, taking in exaggerated deep breaths like she was in great pain.

"Get out of here, Anastasia!" Francis roared up the stairs.

Having packed up her things, Anastasia grabbed her passport and went down the stairs. Her heart grew stone-cold when she saw how her own father was holding Erica in his arms like she was something precious.

Anastasia knew then that she indeed had no place in his heart. Francis had only heard Erica's side of the story instead of asking Anastasia about the horrific incident she had endured last night.

Ever since her mother had passed, she had spent her years in this home living like an outsider, for her father had brought home his mistress and his illegitimate daughter to form a new family.

Anastasia's poor mother had never known about her husband's extra-marital affairs, not even in her death.

I will never come back to this place ever again.

Inside the house, Erica watched as Anastasia dragged her suitcase out the front door, and a wicked smile curled on her lips. I finally got rid of that useless eyesore!

…

Five years later, a knock came on the front door of an apartment in Dansbury.

The woman living in the apartment had been poring over her designs when she heard the knock. A little bewildered, she walked up to the door and pulled it open unhappily. When she saw the two Asian men in suits, she asked in Chinese, "Who are you looking for?"

"Are you Miss Anastasia Tillman?" one of the two men asked in English.

"I am. And you are?" Anastasia pressed.

"We were asked to look for you. Your mother, Amelia Chapman, saved our young master's life back in the day. The old madam whom we serve wishes to see you."

She frowned at this. "Who's the old madam you serve?"

"Old Madam Presgrave," the first man answered respectfully.

Upon hearing this, Anastasia understood what had brought these men here. Old Madam Presgrave was the woman behind the Presgrave Group, the foremost conglomerate in the country. Years ago, Anastasia's mother had sacrificed her life to save Old Madam Presgrave's oldest grandson.

It gave Anastasia great pride to have been born to a police officer as capable and righteous as Amelia.

"I'm sorry, but I don't intend to see her," Anastasia said decidedly. She had a feeling that the Presgraves wanted to repay Amelia's great deed, but she had no plans of accepting their gesture whatsoever.

Just then, a childish and curious voice sounded from somewhere inside the apartment, asking, "Mommy, who is it?"

"No one," Anastasia replied hastily. Then, she turned to address the men at the door, "Sorry, but I'm really not in a mood for guests at the moment."

With that, she closed the door.

Meanwhile, back in the country, a man was seated on the couch inside the villa tucked halfway up the hill. "Have you tracked her down?"

"Yes, Young Master Elliot. The girl from the clubhouse five years ago just sold off your watch at the second-hand market."

"Find her," said the man on the couch, his voice deep and authoritative.

"Yes, sir!"

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Chapter 2

The room was bathed in a warm glow of the lights. The man who sat on the couch had flawless features, his handsome face the painstaking artwork of the heavens. He wore a finely tailored suit that accentuated his strong silhouette. At present, Elliot Presgrave's eyes turned icy as his grandmother's steely voice reverberated in his mind.

Elliot, you must take Anastasia Tillman for a wife. I will only have her and no one else as my granddaughter-in-law in the Presgrave Family.

Right now, however, the only person Elliot was thinking of was the woman whom he had ravished in the dark all those years ago. That fateful night, his drink had been laced and rendered him so intoxicated that the only thing he remembered was how the woman had hopelessly sobbed while she begged for mercy under him.

When all was done, he had taken off his watch and pressed it into her hand, thereafter passing out in the dimness of that room.

Fast forward to five years later; he was still looking for her. It was just last week when he learned that she had sold off his watch at the secondhand market, but the news came too late, for his grandmother insisted that he take some other woman for a wife.

Just then, his phone rang once more. He picked it up and greeted brusquely, "What?"

"Young Master Elliot, we have found the girl. Her name is Hayley Seymour, and she was the one who personally sold off the watch."

"Send me her address, and I'll pay her a visit," Elliot ordered as an elated gleam flashed in his eyes. The mysterious girl from that night has finally been sighted! I have to find her, no matter what. I need to make it up to her for the things I've done that night.

Meanwhile, Hayley was in the women's boutique. She had taken over the boutique a little over a year ago, but the business had been on a steady decline. Struggling to pay rent, she had tried to come up with ways to scrape together enough money to tide over. At last, she decided to try to sell the watch she had in her possession, and much to her pleasant surprise, it fetched a whopping price of five hundred thousand.

The watch hadn't been hers, to begin with. Five years ago, the clubhouse staff had contacted her and told her that they had retrieved a watch from the private room, thereafter prompting her to collect it from their lost and found department. Upon arriving at the club and seeing that it was a designer men's watch, she claimed it as her own without even a second of hesitation.

Since then, the watch had been nestling in her closet until she decided to sell it off at the secondhand market last week. Leading up to the sale, she hadn't expected that the watch would be worth much, but that was before she was offered an astonishing five hundred thousand for it.

Hayley was glowing as she stared at the amount of money she had in her account, and she thought happily to herself, I guess I can live comfortably for a while longer.

At that moment, the door to her boutique swung open, and she quickly rose to greet the customer. "Welcome to..."

She trailed off then, so stunned that she abandoned the rest of her words.

The man who had entered her boutique stood tall and straight. He was handsome beyond comprehension, and he carried with him an innate nobility.

It took a while for Hayley to snap out of her daze before she stumbled over her words to ask, "I-Is there someone you're looking for, sir?"

That was a fair question, considering she was running a women's boutique. It was impossible that a man wearing a refined handmade suit would be here to browse through dresses and the like. He looked like he stood at six feet two, and there was no mistaking the domineering edge of his presence.

"Hayley Seymour?" Elliot asked as his narrowed eyes locked onto her. He searched her face, desperately trying to find traces of the woman from five years ago.

"Y-Yes, that's me. And you are..." She couldn't quite finish her words; her faculty of speech was going haywire under the man's burning gaze.

Having heard her reply, the man reached into his pocket and produced a men's watch before her, then asked in a deep, rumbling voice, "Has this watch been in your possession all these years?"

Hayley glanced at the watch and instantly felt the urge to shrink into herself. Blinking guiltily, she stammered, "Y-Yes, the watch is… mine."

"And you were the woman from the Abyss Club five years ago? The one who was in Room 808?" Elliot pressed, eyeing the girl in front of him intently as he thought with a start, Could she really be the girl from that night?

The wheels in Hayley's mind began to turn furiously. Room 808 from five years ago... Wasn't that the room where Erica and I set Anastasia up? Why is this man asking me about that incident?

Without dwelling too much on this, she answered straightforwardly, "Of course, that was me."

"Keep this watch from now on, and don't try to pawn it off again. I'll make it up to you for what happened that night," he said as he handed the watch to her. "I'm Elliot Presgrave. Remember my name, will you?"

Hayley looked up at him in shock. Elliot Presgrave? As in, the heir to Presgrave Corporation, the leading conglomerate? "Y-You're Elliot Presgrave?" she asked, so overwhelmed she might collapse.

The man next to Elliot handed her a name card and interjected, "Miss Seymour, this is our young master's name card. You may look for him if you need his help in any way."

She took the card with one shaky hand, and when she saw the shell-shocking name embossed onto the gold stationery, her heart nearly flew out of her chest. So the guy who slept with Anastasia five years ago was not the male escort we arranged for her, but this fine specimen who happens to be the heir to the Presgraves' family fortune?

As realization dawned upon her, Hayley reached out and grabbed Elliot's arm, then forced tears to spring to her eyes as she threw a fit. "You have to take responsibility, Elliot. Do you know how hurt and traumatized I was after that night?" With that, she looked down and cried crocodile tears, sobbing miserably like she was the one who had been violated five years ago.

There was only one thing on her mind right now: to step into Anastasia's shoes and assume the role of the victim from that fateful night. She was set on having Elliot take responsibility so that she could get more benefits out of this. Ultimately, she hoped to marry the man and become Mrs. Presgrave.

"Don't worry, I promise to take responsibility," the man said solemnly, his husky voice steady and reassuring.

"Miss Seymour, Young Master Elliot has arranged a villa for you, and you can move in anytime. He will take care of all your needs from now on." Elliot's personal assistant, Rey Osborne, pointed out helpfully.

Hayley's eyes lit up at once. She was so ecstatic she could pass out. A world of riches and glamor will soon be in my hands!

"There are some things I have to take care of, so I'll get going," Elliot said, then after casting Hayley a brief look, he turned to leave.

When the door swung shut behind him, Hayley clutched the watch tightly. She was so overwhelmed by this unexpected turn of events that she could cry. "I'm going to be rich! Rich!" While she celebrated the windfall, she found herself hoping viciously that Anastasia had dropped dead within the last five years so that she wouldn't appear out of nowhere like roadkill.

In the understated luxury ride, Elliot sat in the backseat with his eyes closed. Is Hayley really the woman from five years ago? Why does she seem different? Or have five years changed her?

The orange rays of the setting sun spilled through the car window and played over the man's chiseled features. He looked so handsome that it was hard to believe he wasn't some valuable piece of art that belonged in a museum; there was no one who could replicate such fine looks.

He was the true successor to Presgrave Group. He had taken over the reins five years ago and launched the conglomerate to new heights, so much so that it was crowned first place among the world's leading companies.

On that fateful night five years ago, he had experienced his first and only downfall in his lifetime. One of his rivals had spiked his drink in hopes of manipulating him into ruining his own reputation. Elliot had saved himself by darting into the private room, but just as the effect of the drug was at its peak, a random woman scurried in and relieved him of his predicament.

Since then, the fact that he had just ravished and taken away a girl's innocence had been weighing on his conscience.

He was sure that she had been chaste up to that night, for when he woke up after the deed, he saw under the lights of the private room the traces of blood that stained the couch.

As he thought about the scattered mess in the private room that followed his misdeed, he stopped doubting Hayley's identity and his impression of her. I have to take responsibility for what I've done to her.

While this was happening, Anastasia was in her apartment somewhere abroad as she said on the phone, "Got it. Give me three days tops to return to the country and prepare for the competition."

"Mommy, are we going back?" A small figure wandered over to her side. He wore a blue checkered shirt and a pair of denim shorts. His features were delicately chiseled, albeit childish. He was only four or so, but there was unmistakable grace and elegance to his movements.

Anastasia smiled and nodded. "Would you like to go back with me?"

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Chapter 3

"Of course! I'll go anywhere you go, Mommy!" the little guy beamed, his large eyes looking like glistening onyxes as they curved into crescent moons.

Anastasia couldn't help musing over how beautiful the child was. Every time she looked at his little face, she felt a surge of comfort and gratitude, as though constantly in awe of how she had managed to birth such an adorable little one.

"Well, then, we best pack our things now. We're leaving for the airport tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay!" The little one gave one firm nod, then dashed into his room to pack his things for the trip.

Anastasia heaved a sigh. She had been living abroad since her father threw her out of the house five years ago. It wasn't so much that she didn't want to go home as it was that she had no place in it.

She didn't even tell her father after she had delivered her child while abroad, and now that she was going back to her homeland for her work and career, she had made up her mind to see the old man. He was still her father, after all.

Three days later, it was evening time at the international airport when Anastasia wheeled the baggage cart forward. Her son was seated on top of the large suitcase on the cart, and he gazed around in wonder. Everything about Anastasia's homeland seemed to pique his interest, and there was a curious gleam in his sparkly eyes.

Presently, Anastasia had only just stepped out of the arrival hall when two men in suits walked up to her, thereafter greeting politely, "Miss Tillman, we have been sent here by Old Madam Presgrave, who has prepared a ride for you just outside the entrance. If you please—"

She blinked at them and said very courteously, "I appreciate the Presgraves' kind gesture, but I have no need for a ride, thank you."

"Miss Tillman, the old madam truly wishes to see you," the middle-aged man said respectfully.

Anastasia knew that Old Madam Presgrave bore no ill will, but she really had no plans accepting the old madam's kind favor. "Please tell Old Madam Presgrave that it was my mother's duty to save others, and that there is no need to repay the deed, at least not to me." With that, she made to brush past the two men, pushing the cart toward the exit.

One of the men took out his phone and informed dutifully, "Young Master Elliot, Miss Tillman has refused our offer to pick her up."

Presently, three gleaming black Rolls-Royce with heavily tinted windows that deterred anyone's efforts of peeking inside were parked by the airport entrance. There was a man seated in the backseat of the Rolls-Royce in the middle of the fleet who kept his gaze on the airport doors, and he saw a young woman pushing her cart through them just as he set his phone aside.

The woman wore a white blouse and plain jeans. Her hair had been gathered at her nape, revealing a delicate and pretty face. Her skin was alabaster, and her demeanor somewhat leisurely as she maneuvered the cart. Without a doubt, her presence among the crowd was a dazzling one.

Just then, Elliot's gaze was caught by something, or rather, someone—the little boy who leaped off the woman's cart. He looked to be around four or five years of age, and he wore a gray sweater with joggers, his thick and soft hair flopping over his forehead. He might be young, but his features were finely chiseled, making him all the more adorable.

At that moment, Anastasia crouched down and helped the little one straighten his clothes; there was no mistaking the gentle and indulgent look in her eyes.

Who's the kid? Is Anastasia married? If so, then I won't have to marry her just to fulfill Grandma's wishes. With that in mind, Elliot watched as the taxi Anastasia and her supposed child got into pulled away. Not long after that, his fleet left as well.

They had barely covered any distance when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and greeted, "Hey, Hayley."

"Elliot, when are you coming to see me? I've missed you." Hayley's coy voice whined on the other line.

"I've been a little busy recently, but I'll see you as soon as I'm free," he answered, the bass in his voice prominent.

"Promise?" Hayley asked coquettishly.

"Yes," he replied with forced patience.

Meanwhile, over at Presgrave Residence, a silver-haired old lady was sitting on the couch sipping her tea when she heard her subordinates' latest findings. She looked up in shock as she demanded, "What? Anastasia has a child? Is she married?"

"According to our investigation, the child's father never showed up, so we're assuming that she had the child out of wedlock."

"Oh, that poor dear. To become a single mother at such a young age..." Harriet Presgrave, otherwise more widely known as Old Madam Presgrave, sighed. Guilt surged through her as she thought about the brave female police officer who had died after sustaining eighteen fatal stabs from the ruffian who had threatened to hurt Elliot all those years ago.

She was only just lamenting this when an elegant and towering figure sauntered into the living room. It was Elliot, and he had returned from the airport. "Come here, Elliot," Harriet said as she beckoned her grandson over.

Elliot promptly took the seat next to hers and began to say, "Grandma, Anastasia kept refusing our offer, so maybe I—"

"I just found out that Miss Tillman is a single mother who had a child out of wedlock. You must take care of the poor mother and son, Elliot. It's your duty."

Elliot gaped at the old woman speechlessly, stunned by her suggestion. He had thought that she would have given up on the matter, but as it turned out, she grew even more determined to see it through instead.

"Grandma, I don't have to marry her. We could always use some other way to repay her mother's kind deeds and make it up to her," he countered calmly, hoping that his grandmother would see sense.

However, the moment Harriet heard this, she shot him a frigid look and said, "No, that won't do. You must marry Anastasia and protect her and take care of her for the rest of her life."

Elliot frowned. He didn't think any good could come from a loveless marriage, but he couldn't even reject his grandmother's suggestion because she was set on repaying the sacrifice Anastasia's mother had made all those years ago.

"You can't even imagine how many stabs Officer Amelia Chapman had sustained just to protect you. The amount of blood... The gruesome nature of the crime..."Harriet's eyes were sad as she said this. Then, she looked up and cast her grandson a hard look, pointing out, "Taking care of her daughter is the least you could do. You won't ever be able to repay the officer's selfless deed, even if you were to take care of Anastasia for eternity."

Elliot nodded quietly. "Fine, then I'll take her for a wife."

But there was another woman whom he could not let go of, whom he needed to compensate as well. That said, he had no plans to tell Harriet about this just yet, and he knew that even if he did tell her, it wouldn't dissuade her from forcing him to marry Anastasia.

"Anastasia has a kid," he said.

That backfired on him because Harriet seemed delighted by the news. "That's right! It's a little boy, probably around three or four years old. I can't believe some scoundrel just left them like that. Listen to me, Elliot—don't you dare snub that child, is that understood?"

Elliot could hardly believe this. He stared at his grandmother, stumped as he thought, Is this some kind of a buy-one-free-one deal?

The Bourgeois Jewelry Atelier was an old and well-known establishment that had been acquired by Anastasia's superior. In order to grow the brand, Anastasia—the chief designer for the Queen's Rose QR Diamond Global—had been transferred back to her homeland to work on diversifying Bourgeois.

Through the arrangements made by Bourgeois, Anastasia was put up in an apartment. She went about decorating and straightening up her new abode while her son slept, and within two hours, the apartment was transformed into the perfect cozy nest for the mother-and-son duo.

She was exhausted, but she did not feel like turning in for the day as she watched her son's adorable sleeping profile.

Whatever had happened in this city five years ago still haunted her and made her stomach churn. Her best friend's betrayal, her stepsister's wickedness, and her father's ultimatum that resulted in her being exiled were like cuts that ran too deep to heal over.

It was a miracle at all that she had survived the past five years. She had had to balance raising her son as a single mother and picking up design courses, and during the later part of the five years, she slowly worked her way up the ladder and became chief designer. She had toiled harder than anyone else, and the heavens must have granted her the stroke of luck she needed to get to where she was today.

As of now, she had her savings, her son, and a job that allowed her freedom.

She picked up her phone and stared at her father's number. There were several times when she thought about calling him, but something made her hesitate. It's been five years. I wonder if he's still angry with me.

Then, she heaved a sigh. Forget it.

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