Sylas Vaelthorne was a man envied by many. At thirty-eight, he was the powerful and charismatic CEO of a global business empire, a legacy inherited from his influential family. His parents managed affairs in Italy, while his three younger siblings handled operations in Japan, Germany, and Switzerland. But Sylas had chosen Spain, the country he loved more than anything. The language, the culture, the warmth—it was his sanctuary. However, his position often demanded he speak English, a language he despised being forced into.

Despite his wealth, influence, and striking appearance, he knew the truth—no one genuinely loved him. People admired him, desired him, sought his favor, but for all the wrong reasons. Their adoration was a façade, masking their hunger for power, money, or status. And perhaps, that was why he found solace in his secret.

Being a CEO never excited him. What truly ignited his passion was medicine. Beneath the polished suits and ruthless business negotiations, Sylas was a doctor—an identity he kept hidden from the world. He had spent years studying, mastering the intricacies of the human body, and dedicating himself to healing. In his private clinic, away from the suffocating world of corporate greed, he found purpose.

But his carefully constructed life took a turn when his parents announced his arranged marriage. A woman he had never met. They believed it was time for him to settle down, to continue the family legacy with a suitable partner. Sylas, furious at their interference, sought an escape.

That night, he let go. He allowed himself the one thing he never did—recklessness.

The lavish party was filled with people who thrived on extravagance, drinking, and excess. Sylas, overwhelmed and frustrated, drank more than he ever had before. And then, amidst the haze of alcohol, it happened.

She was there.

He couldn't remember her name, her face was a blur, but her presence ignited something primal in him. He had sworn to himself—he would never let lust control him. Yet, in his drunken state, his self-discipline unraveled. He took what he never thought he would, dominant, unrelenting, until the night turned into morning.

And when he awoke, she was gone.

His head pounded, his body was sluggish, but the emptiness in the bed beside him burned the most. The woman had vanished, leaving behind only the ghost of her presence and the lingering heat of a night he could barely recall. He clenched his jaw, furious with himself, with his lack of control.

By noon, he had pushed aside the remnants of that night and buried himself in work. In his clinic, he was not Sylas Vaelthorne, the powerful CEO. Here, he was simply Dr. Vaelthorne, a man who healed.

Then she walked in.

At first, he didn’t register her completely—just another patient. But then, his sharp eyes caught the marks on her neck. His stomach twisted as recognition hit him like a storm. Love bites. His love bites.

She was the woman from last night.

He forced himself to remain composed as she sat down. Her expression was unreadable as she spoke.

“I need a check-up. I think I have rashes.”

Rashes? His jaw clenched. Was she playing dumb? Or did she truly not remember? His eyes flickered to the faint bruises on her skin, evidence of a night he never intended to have.

For the first time in his life, Sylas Vaelthorne was at a loss.

And he had no idea that the woman who unknowingly shattered his discipline was the very same woman his parents had chosen for him.