Seeing the situation unfold before her, Amy had no choice but to relent.

She slipped into Sebastian's luxury sedan, murmured an address in Newhaven's elite district, and immediately closed her exhausted eyes.

Her thoughts were clouded, her limbs heavy with fatigue.

As the plush leather seat cradled her weary body, sleep claimed Amy within seconds.

She didn't know how much time had passed when a gentle touch roused her.

"Celeste, we're here."

Amy blinked awake, momentarily disoriented - the lavish car interior unfamiliar in her groggy state.

Then Samantha's distress came rushing back like a tidal wave.

"Are we at The Grand Solmaris?" she asked, fumbling with the seatbelt before stepping onto the pavement.

Her legs buckled the moment her designer heels touched the ground.

A strong, elegant hand caught her elbow just in time.

"Celeste, perhaps you should stay in the car?" Sebastian's usually playful tone was uncharacteristically grave. "Let me handle this."

She looked so delicate, Sebastian thought, like a porcelain doll that might shatter from a strong gust of wind.

Amy shook her head, taking steadying breaths with her eyes closed. "Just give me a minute."

When she reopened them, her gaze had regained its steel.

"Let's go."

...

They found Samantha in the VIP lounge, surrounded by hulking security guards.

The angry red marks across her face told a clear story of repeated slaps.

Among the group, a spoiled heir lounged with a bandaged head, his glare venomous. "Called for reinforcements? Let's see who dares walk you out of here tonight!"

The door swung open before his sneer faded.

A pale, striking woman entered, followed by an impossibly handsome man radiating casual power.

Maxwell Winthrop's eyes lit up with predatory interest when he saw Amy. "Well now. An upgrade from the last one."

His gaze traveled over Amy's figure with vulgar appreciation - like a collector evaluating a new acquisition.

Maxwell had earned his reputation as Newhaven's most notorious playboy, taking what he wanted without consequence.

Earlier that evening, he'd cornered Samantha in the hallway, dragging her into his private domain without hesitation.

The Winthrop name carried weight in Solmaris society, and with his family's endless resources cleaning up his scandals, Maxwell had grown increasingly brazen.

As he mentally calculated how to claim this new prize, an icy presence shattered his fantasies.

He'd been so focused on Amy that he'd missed Sebastian's entrance entirely.

Annoyed, Maxwell turned to confront the interruption - and froze.

"M-Mr. Kingsley?!"

His entire body went rigid with shock.

"To what do we owe this honor, sir?"

Sebastian gave him a dismissive glance. "Do I need a reason?"

All arrogance drained from Maxwell's face. He scrambled to his feet, suddenly obsequious. "Of course not! Please, join us. Anything you desire—"

Sebastian cut him off with a bored wave. "Just collecting what's mine."

The unspoken command hung heavy in the air.

Maxwell's face paled, panic flashing in his eyes. "Mr. Kingsley, my deepest apologies! Had I known this lady was under your protection..."

He snapped at his guards, "Release her immediately!"

The bodyguards obeyed without hesitation.

Samantha looked utterly broken, clutching her injured face. "I'm so sorry, Celeste. I've caused you trouble again."

In this modern age, men like Maxwell - who treated women as property - were becoming relics of a bygone era.