Chapter 1

~Anne Adams~

I woke up from my sleep, and the only feeling was that my whole body seemed to be burned by fire. It's hot to death.

When I opened my eyes, everything I saw was ghosted, still blurry, foggy.

But I can also feel that this is the style of the luxurious Presidential Suite. Resplendent in gold, any cup of water is crystalline.

"Hot... So thirsty, it's... Where is it?"

I subconsciously wanted to get up and find water to drink, only to feel that my body was paralyzed, I don't have any strength at all.

A strong, powerful palm suddenly pinched my chin.

"Wake up, wake up, are you pretending to be dead?"

A deep, magnetic male voice pours into my eardrum. I understands every word, but I don't understand the meaning of the connection between me and this person." Who is this man?" I asked myself.

I was confused and lightheaded, trying to open my eyes and see the man's face clearly.

But only a vague shadow was seen.

It's like a deliberate blurring in a movie.

The body was even hotter, and the emptiness was terrible, as if some primal desire was surging in the body.

"Who are you?" I asked.

I didn't realize how delicate my voice was now, and the bones of those who listened to it were crispy.

However, the man's resistance is clearly good.

His bones weren't crisped by my voice.

A bony palm pinching a beautiful goblet.

Shaking the red liquid inside, he let go of my chin.

"Why are you asking who I am? Don't you know your husband?"

My thoughts are very vague now because I am not married yet! I am still a leftover girl who goes on blind dates multiple times a week!

Now, there is an extra husband for no reason, should I be secretly happy about this?

"Ah... I wish I had a husband. It's a pity I didn't..." My words trailed off, a wistful sigh escaping before I rolled over on the bed, a move prompted by an inexplicable impulse.

Turning seemed to offer some comfort, a curious notion lingering in my mind. Did it make my body feel better somehow?

The man abruptly slammed the goblet onto the small coffee table nearby, sending a shiver down my spine, an eerie chill enveloping me.

It was as if facing an immense iceberg, his words slicing through the air, laden with accusation. "Dead woman, ruined my marriage, and stole my seed... Do you think I can't find you even if you change your face and run back to Philippines?"

My entire body remained paralyzed, yearning for nothing more than to disappear into a pool, seeking refuge from this bewildering confrontation.

How could I summon the energy to grapple with the nonsensical accusations hurled my way?

"Hmm... I'm dreaming..." I muttered, attempting to rationalize the absurdity of it all.

But how could a dream manifest such regrets about a marriage I knew nothing of, about stealing something when I didn't even have a boyfriend?

"I'll let you know if you're dreaming!" The man's voice sliced through my ears, his actions swift as he undid his belt, casting off his robe in a dramatic flourish that floated like a cloud before settling on the floor.

With slender fingers, he tore at my clothes, the sudden chill of exposed skin making me gasp. "What are you doing?" I managed to demand, bewildered and alarmed.

"Reliving your dreams!" His retort was sharp, punctuated by an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

His face loomed large before me, yet when I strained to focus, it remained elusive, frustratingly out of sight.

Struggling to catch my breath, I forced my eyes open, only to be met with a different reality.

"Get up, what are you dreaming of? You'll be late for work!" My best friend, Victoria Vales, shook me awake, pulling me back to the present.

I chided myself silently, lamenting the interruption of what seemed to be a vivid, albeit perplexing dream.

As Anne Adams, a seasoned journalist known for my meticulous work, such bizarre dreams were an unusual intrusion into my usually orderly sleep.

"There's an interview today. Media outlets are vying for attention, and we should have left earlier," Victoria informed me, prompting my immediate curiosity. "Who?"

"The president of R.D Home of Decor just returned from the United States," Victoria Vales informed me as she packed her belongings, a sense of excitement in her voice.

She continued, "Oh my God, don't you know? This guy is described as a handsome man, loaded with money, and his background worth is beyond belief. He's the epitome of every woman's dream lover!"

But my interest lay elsewhere. I wasn't concerned about his looks; I was fixated on making a splash in the headlines.

The interview was slated for one o'clock, prompting me to fire up my computer and delve into the background of the R.D president.

A click revealed a large photo. The man stood confidently against a Bugatti, one leg casually bent, hands tucked in his pockets, his face obscured in black.

Richard David, the incoming president of R.D, had resided in the United States for an extended period before his imminent return to Manila, Philippines, to take the company's reins. There was a twist in his past - a fiancée who vanished after releasing a dove at their wedding, leaving no trace of any attempts to remarry.

As I gazed at the man with the obscured face, a chilling aura seemed to emanate from the screen, an icy detachment that sent shivers down my spine.

Why did I dare to imagine this man as the one from my dreams? It had to be a delusion!

The memory of that heart-thumping dream, the details that had later made my cheeks flush with embarrassment, flooded back. I felt a wave of shame wash over me.

Had I been single for so long that any passing man sparked such thoughts? Surely not!

"Ready to dive into this?" I asked myself, a twinkle of excitement in my eye.

*****************

In the opulent Presidential Suite, Richard David stood coolly before the expansive floor-to-ceiling window, observing the bustling city beyond, bathed in the sunlight's glow.

Clad in a finely-tailored suit, his almost 1.8-meter stature appeared even more imposing. Every inch of him, a study in straight lines, exuded a commanding presence. Though it was merely his back, the silhouette was captivating, a natural hanger for any garment.

The afternoon rays painted him in a golden hue, an ethereal halo enveloping his figure, lending an otherworldly aura to his being.

"President, the one o'clock press conference is imminent. Are you ready?" Michael, his Special Assistant, entered the room, prompting Richard's gaze to shift.

Turning, Richard revealed sharp, imposing features - two prominent eyebrows, a chiseled nose, and a set of finely sculpted lips. His entire countenance possessed a striking three-dimensionality, akin to a masterpiece of nature.

His deep-set eyes emanated an icy intensity, commanding attention effortlessly, marking him as the center of the world. Yet, his chilling demeanor discouraged direct gazes, establishing him as an unapproachable figure.

"No need to rush." His lips parted, releasing a magnetic and melodious voice that uttered three succinct words.

As Michael made to leave, Richard halted him abruptly. "What about that woman?"

"Given her status as a gold medal reporter, she's expected to attend," Michael replied.

Richard nodded, his gaze shifting to the colossal bed. It was just days ago that he'd returned to the Philippines and crossed paths with this woman once more.

He held no interest in the woman who had shattered his engagement and besmirched his reputation. His sole concern lay in understanding why she had absconded with his child, leaving him labeled as a callous figure unaware and unmoved by his son's existence.

At the mere thought, Richard's gaze darkened, a deep well of emotions surfacing within him, intense and unfathomable. Even after five years, the mere memory of her taste left him unnerved.

With a gesture, he instructed Michael to set down the exquisite goblet in his hand, its contents of red wine is untouched. "Let's go to the company," he directed.