THE BILLIONAIRE'S BETRAYED BRIDE

Valeria pov My phone read 1:17 a.m. “Crap.” I had meant to leave an hour ago. The library was practically dead. Most of the lights were still on, but they somehow made the place feel even emptier. A guy from my class was asleep at one of the tables, his face pressed against an open textbook. I almost laughed. I knew that position way too well. I shut my laptop and stretched, immediately regretting it when my back cracked. “Ugh.” I shoved everything into my old backpack. My notebook went in first, then the laptop. I had to be careful with the bag because the zipper had been broken for months and was basically surviving on hope. I slung it over my shoulder and left. The moment I stepped outside, the cold hit me. I pulled my coat tighter around myself. It smelled like rain. That weird smell the air gets before the sky actually decides to do anything. There were two ways back to my apartment. The long way was safer. Streetlights. Shops. People. The short way saved me about fifteen minutes. Normally, I would've taken the long route without thinking twice. Tonight, my feet hurt. So, naturally, I made the stupid decision. I turned toward the shortcut. The street near Anam Station was quiet. Too quiet, maybe. But I'd used it before. Plenty of times. Nothing had ever happened to me there, despite my best friend's constant warnings. She'd probably kill me if she knew I was walking through it at this hour. I put my earbuds in. Not even music, really. I just didn't like the silence. My thoughts wandered. My exam. The stupid question I'd gotten wrong earlier. Whether I'd locked my apartment door that morning. How badly I wanted to get into bed. I was thinking about anything except the possibility that someone might be behind me. Then I heard footsteps. I stopped. The footsteps stopped too. My heart gave one hard thump. I started walking again. So did they. I glanced over my shoulder. Three men. They weren't exactly walking. More like... following. One of them called out. “Hey.” I kept going. “Where are you going so fast?” His voice made the little hairs on my arms rise. I didn't answer. I walked faster. The corner was right ahead. Almost there. Then someone grabbed my arm. Hard. I barely had time to turn before I stumbled backward. My bag slipped off my shoulder and hit the ground. Another hand covered my mouth. Panic hit me so fast I couldn't think. There were three of them now, surrounding me. I could smell alcohol. One of them laughed. “Relax. We just want to talk.” Sure. Because this was exactly how people normally started conversations. I tried pulling away. Nothing. I twisted my arm and tried to bite the hand over my mouth, but someone grabbed both my wrists and forced them behind me. Pain shot through my arms. I kicked. “b***h!” Someone stumbled back. For half a second, I thought I'd gotten free. I hadn't. They dragged me toward the side of the building, away from the streetlights. My mind started screaming at me. Run. Move. Scream. Do something. But my body wasn't listening. This isn't happening. It couldn't be. I squeezed my eyes shut. Then the hand over my mouth slipped. I screamed. “Shut her up!” A hand moved toward me. I flinched and closed my eyes. Then— “Let her go.” Everything stopped. The voice wasn't loud. That was the strange part. It didn't need to be. There was something about it. Calm, almost bored, but cold underneath. The man holding me looked toward the voice. His grip loosened. I didn't wait. I yanked my wrists free and stumbled backward until my back hit the wall. Then everything happened at once. A body hit the ground. Someone shouted. Another man lunged forward and immediately stumbled back. I couldn't keep up with what I was seeing. One second there were three men standing around me. The next, two of them were on the ground. The third just stared. He looked at the stranger. Then at his friends. Then back at the stranger. He ran. Just like that. I stood there, breathing like I'd forgotten how to do it properly. The stranger turned toward me. He was tall. Broad shoulders. Messy hair. Long dark coat. I couldn't make out his face properly in the bad lighting. “Are you hurt?” I stared at him. Nothing came out. My throat felt completely closed. He took a step toward me. I immediately pressed myself harder against the wall. He stopped. Right away. “It's okay,” he said quietly. “I'm not going to hurt you.” I believed him. I think. But my body didn't seem to care what I believed. I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't even think of something as simple as thank you. So I did the only thing my brain could come up with. I ran. I grabbed my bag and rushed past him. I didn't look back. I just ran toward the main road, toward the lights, toward the sound of cars and people and anything that didn't feel like that dark street. I finally stopped at the crosswalk. My chest was burning. My hands were shaking. I looked down at my palm. A small scrape. Nothing serious. Still, I stared at it for a few seconds because I needed something else to focus on. When I looked back, the street was empty. The stranger was gone. So were the three men. For a moment, I wondered if I'd imagined half of it. I hadn't. I should've gone back. I should've at least thanked him. That would've been the normal thing to do. But I couldn't. All I wanted was home. My apartment. My locked door. So I took the long way. The safe way. A couple stood outside a bar, laughing about something I couldn't hear. A convenience store was still open, its bright lights spilling onto the pavement. Everything looked normal. That almost bothered me. People were laughing. Cars were passing. Someone was probably sitting at home watching television. Nobody knew what had almost happened a few streets away. By the time I reached my building, my hands had stopped shaking. Mostly. I unlocked my door, went inside, and locked it behind me. Then I checked it again. And again. I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. I didn't cry. I hadn't really cried in years. Not properly, anyway. But when I finally got into bed, sleep wouldn't come. I kept hearing that voice. Are you hurt? It had been calm. Careful. Like he genuinely wanted to know. I didn't know his name. I didn't know what he looked like. And I told myself that was fine. I'd never see him again. At least, that's what I thought. I was wrong. I just didn't know it yet.