Hi, I'm Isabel Evans, and I'm 25 years old. I live with my family, and today is the happiest day of my life—I'm about to marry the love of my life, Damien Knight. We've been dating for 3 years, and I know deep in my heart that he is the one for me.

Our parents are gathered in the living room, eagerly discussing the date for our wedding.

Isabel's Mom (Elena Evans): "How about setting the date for next month? Isa and Damien are already in love, so there's no reason to delay."

Damien's Mom(Victoria Knight): "You're absolutely right, Elena! I can't wait to see my son get married. This is the first time he's ever come to me about a girl, saying he wants to marry her."

Isabel's Dad (Robert Evans): "Oh my God, you two sound more excited than the actual couple! At least ask them first if they're ready to take this step."

Damien's Dad (Thomas Knight): "Alright, what do you two say? Is next month okay for you?"

Damien smiles, his eyes locking onto mine. "Dad, if it were up to me, I'd marry her tomorrow."

Laughter fills the room, and my cheeks flush with warmth at his words.

Isabel: "Mom, I'm okay with next month."

Elena: "Then it's settled! We'll start preparing for the wedding."

With that, dinner comes to an end. While our parents continue discussing the details, Damien and I step outside for a quiet walk in the moonlit garden.

I glance at him, my heart pounding slightly. "Damien, are you sure about this wedding? You know marriage is a huge responsibility, and there's no turning back."

He stops, taking my hand gently in his. His touch is warm, reassuring.

"Isa, I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you so much, and I promise to cherish you forever."

A soft smile tugs at my lips. "I love you too."

The moment is perfect—just the two of us under the night sky, lost in our love. But something lingers at the back of my mind, a question I've avoided for too long.

"By the way, are you free this weekend? We could go out together."

Damien's expression shifts slightly, almost hesitant. "I'm really sorry, Isa. I have some urgent work this weekend. But I promise I'll try to finish early so we can meet."

I nod, though a small pang of disappointment settles in my chest.

Damien is the CEO of his father's company—one of the most prestigious businesses in the country. His work often demands his time, even on holidays, and though I understand, a part of me wonders what exactly keeps him so busy. I don't know much about his professional life, only what he has told me. And sometimes, his secrecy makes me a little curious.

Still, I smile at him. "It's alright, Damien. You don't have to rush things for me."

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "But I want to."

I laugh softly, pushing my worries aside. Right now, all that matters is us.

**NEXT DAY**

I had come to Damien's house to discuss some final wedding details with his mother. After settling everything, I turned to her with a smile.

Isabel: "Mom, is Damien home?"

Victoria: "Sorry, Isa, he's not here right now, but he'll be back soon. You can wait for him in his room if you'd like."

Isabel: "Really? Alright, I'll wait."

I made my way upstairs and stepped into Damien's room. The moment I entered, I froze.

The room was nothing like I had imagined. Instead of a warm, inviting space that reflected Damien's charming personality, it was dark and eerily quiet. The walls were painted in deep shades of black and navy, and the only source of light came from a dimly lit lamp in the corner. The decor was minimal but elegant—almost too perfect, too controlled.

A strange uneasiness settled in my chest, but I shook it off. It's just his taste, nothing unusual... right?

Sitting on the edge of his bed, I glanced around absentmindedly when a faint, almost inaudible sound caught my attention.

My heart skipped a beat.

It was coming from the bookshelf.

I frowned. Was it my imagination? Or did something actually move behind there?

Curiosity gnawed at me, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of the shelf. Slowly, I reached out, my fingers barely brushing against one of the books—

A strong hand suddenly grabbed my wrist.

I gasped.

Turning sharply, I found myself face to face with Damien. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing heavy as if he had been running. But what sent a chill down my spine wasn't his exhaustion—it was the look in his eyes.

Fury.

A cold, unfamiliar anger darkened his expression, making him look like a stranger.

For a brief second, I couldn't recognize him. Was this really my Damien?

His grip tightened slightly. "What are you doing in my room, Isabel?" he asked, his voice low and sharp.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing. His tone was nothing like the warm, affectionate Damien I knew. This was someone else entirely.

And suddenly, I realized—I had stepped into a place I wasn't supposed to be.

I hesitated before replying, my voice barely above a whisper. "Mom told me to wait for you in your room."

Damien's grip on my wrist was tight—too tight. A sharp ache pulsed through my arm, and I realized my hand had started trembling.

His gaze flickered to my shaking fingers. A flash of something—regret? Frustration?—crossed his face before he let go, cursing under his breath.

His entire demeanor shifted in an instant. The dark intensity in his eyes softened, replaced by the gentle, loving Damien I knew.

Damien—his voice now smooth, soothing—"Look, Isa, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

I swallowed, my heart still racing.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly before continuing. "It's just that... the shelf is quite weak. I was afraid it might fall on you." He chuckled lightly, as if trying to ease the tension. "You're welcome in my room anytime, after all—you're going to be my wife."

His words should have comforted me.

But they didn't.

Something about his explanation felt... off.

I studied his face—the warmth in his eyes, the reassuring smile. It was too perfect. Too rehearsed.

I wanted to press further, to ask him why he had reacted so violently. To tell him that I had heard something—something behind that bookshelf.

But I couldn't.

Instead, I forced a small smile and nodded.

Just as I turned away, trying to push the unease from my mind, a faint sound echoed in the silence.

A scraping noise.

It was coming from behind the bookshelf.

My breath hitched. I snapped my head toward Damien, expecting him to react, to acknowledge that he had heard it too.

But he didn't.

Instead, he simply smiled.

Not the warm, reassuring smile I knew.

But a cold, unreadable one.

And for the first time since I'd met him, I felt something I had never felt before.

Fear.