When Natalie Smith finally opened her eyes, it was 3 a.m.

A man lay beside her, his back turned, appearing to be in a deep, undisturbed sleep. Looking at the expanse of his bare shoulders, the memories of the past few hours flooded back. Her cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed crimson. How does he have that much stamina? she wondered, biting her lip. Ugh... I’m going to have trouble even walking tomorrow.

Moving with the silence of a shadow, Natalie slipped out of the bed, stifling a wince as a sharp ache shot through her. She gritted her teeth, dressed quickly, and gathered her belongings. She had to leave the presidential suite before he woke up.

But just as she stepped into the hallway, a figure blocked her path.

“So? Is the deed done?”

It was Jasmine Smith, her paternal half-sister.

“Yes,” Natalie nodded curtly, her voice low.

“Are you certain he didn’t see your face?” Jasmine pressed, her eyes darting toward the closed door with urgent greed.

The plan was simple, if sordid. The man inside was supposed to be Sid Luft, the chief judge of the upcoming Fashion Contest. He was in his fifties and had promised Jasmine the championship—on the condition that she spend a night with him.

Natalie, desperate for the funds to save her brother, had agreed to take Jasmine’s place in the dark for one million dollars.

“Do you have the money?” Natalie ignored the question. Her mind was already at the hospital, where her brother was waiting for the surgery that could save his life.

Jasmine’s lips curled into a smug smirk. She reached into her designer bag and produced a bank card, handing it over with a look of faux concern. “I truly hope your dear brother pulls through.”

Natalie snatched the card, not sparing Jasmine another glance as she turned and hurried toward the elevators. If she hadn't been backed into a corner by medical bills, she would never have considered selling her body—not in a million years.

Once Natalie was gone, Jasmine slipped into the darkened suite. she shed her clothes and crawled into the warm bed, carefully settling into the spot Natalie had just vacated.

When dawn broke, Jasmine took a cautious peek at the man beside her. Seeing him stir, she gave him a playful nudge, her voice dropping into a coy, practiced whine. “You were such a beast last night... I’m still so sore.”

In the dim morning light, the man’s eyes snapped open. His mind was still clouded by the heavy alcohol he’d consumed the night before, but he had a visceral memory of the woman beneath him. She had smelled intoxicatingly sweet, and her skin had been as smooth as silk. But what stood out most was her unexpected spirit.

“I’ll take full responsibility for what happened,” he said.

The deep, resonant timbre of his voice vibrated through the silent room. Jasmine froze. Wait... that’s not the voice of an old man.

Panic flaring, Jasmine bolted upright and fumbled for the bedside lamp. As the light flooded the room, she turned to look at the man beside her. To her utter shock, she wasn't staring at Sid Luft’s wrinkled face, but at a young man of extraordinary, lethal handsomeness.

She recognized him instantly. It was Shane Thompson—the most powerful and influential man in J City.

“As repayment for saving me last night, I’ll give you anything you want.”

While Jasmine was still reeling from his identity, Shane had already climbed out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. When he emerged minutes later, his appearance was impeccably tidy. He walked toward Jasmine, who was still gawking at him as if he were a Greek god come to life.

He reached into his jacket, took out a glossy name card, and handed it to her. “My contact number and address are there.”

His eyes, like two mesmerizing obsidians, stared out from a perfectly defined face. His sharp nose and dark brows gave him a gaze that felt capable of drawing the very soul out of a person. His expression was indifferent, his suit jacket slung carelessly over his arm.

Jasmine drew in a sharp breath, one hand tightening on the silk sheets while the other reached for the card. Before she could find her voice, he was gone—vanishing like a wisp of smoke.

She looked down at the card, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined Natalie would stumble into the wrong room—or rather, the perfect room.

Excitement bubbled up inside her. Shane Thompson thinks I’m the one! Forget the fashion competition; with Shane by her side, all of J City would eventually be hers.

Meanwhile, at the hospital...

Natalie waited anxiously outside the operating theater, her brow furrowed in deep concern. She bit her lip and picked at her nails, her eyes fixed on the red "In Progress" sign. Please, God... let Jared pull through.

Four agonizing hours later, the light finally dimmed. A doctor, still in his surgical scrubs, emerged from the doors.

Natalie rushed forward. “Doctor, I’m Jared’s sister. How is he?”

The doctor offered a tired but genuine smile. “Thank the heavens—the surgery was a complete success. He just needs rest now, and he’ll be back on his feet in no time.”

Natalie’s eyes flooded with tears. Her sacrifice hadn't been in vain. As long as her brother was safe, she was willing to endure anything.