THE CEO's HYBRID BRIDE

CHAPTER 1 He slams the file onto his desk hard enough to make the glass tremble which was on the table. “Get out.” He shouts. The room freezes. His assistant, Sophia, blinks, startled. “Sir, I was just explaining the—” “I don’t care,” he snaps, not lifting his eyes. Angered to his very core. “You had one job. One. And you failed. Get. Out.” He points towards the door. Sophia exits, crying. The door shuts quickly behind them. Silence follows, a thick, suffocating silence. He rakes a hand through his hair and stares at the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Steel. Glass. Order. Control. Everything here obeys him. Something that's happened in the past has always been bothering him. Everything except my head is in the right place. Suddenly, pain stabs behind his eyes without warning. He hisses and grips the edge of the desk, his knuckles whitening. "Not again.”, he mumbles to himself. Images flash, being sharp, brutal, impossible. His claws tear through darkness. The gold fur streaked with blood. And a roar that shakes the earth. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Stop,” He mutters, breathing unevenly. “Just stop.” But the ache intensifies and he grits his teeth. His heart pounds violently, as if trying to break free from his ribs. For a moment, just a terrifying moment, he can feel something under his skin, stretching, shifting, demanding release. A beast. No. That’s madness. Thoughts go awry. He staggers back, his vision now blurring. The office tilts in front of his eyes, the room spins violently. The city lights smear into molten gold. Then everything goes black. Moments later, he wakes up to the sound of his own breathing, harsh and uneven. How long I've been asleep, he speaks to himself. The White ceiling. The couch in his private office finally feels familiar to him. “Sir?” someone says cautiously. “I’m fine,” he snaps, pushing himself upright despite the pounding in his skull. “Get out.” They all hesitate. “The doctor—”Sophia tries to speak with a nervous and feared tone. “Out.”, he growls. The door closes as everyone rushes outside. Ryder sits there long after, his fists clenched, and jaw locked. This isn’t normal. It never has been. These flashes, I've always wondered what these are. He thinks. ● The next day, Ryder Harlow didn't go to the office. He watches the photo of his name plate on his desk inside his cabin. It's in golden and bold, RYDER HARLOW, CEO, the Raging industries. He stays in his penthouse, surrounded by silence and too much space to think. The city hums far below, distant and irrelevant. He just grabs some coffee for himself to calm the storm within. Sleep takes him sometime after dawn. And that’s when he sees me. I stand in a forest drenched in moonlight, silver spilling through towering trees. My hair flows like dark silk, my eyes glowing softly, not gold, not silver, but something in between. “Who are you?” he asks, voice hoarse. I smile at him. It isn’t seductive. It isn’t cruel. It’s devastating. Like even I'm longing for something. “You’ll remember,” I say gently, stepping closer. Every instinct in him leans toward me. His chest burns. His soul aches. “I’m coming.” I say, going further apart, fading to dust. “Coming where?” he demands I reach out, fingertips brushing his chest and finally am completely vanished. He wakes with a gasp, his heart racing, the sheets twisted around his fists. Droplets of sweat form on his forehead. He's drenched in sweat. He is jittery. The scent of rain lingers in the air outside the window. When he returns to the office, his patience is already running thin . “Sir,” Sophia says nervously, trailing behind him, “the new recruits are here for interviews.” “I’m not in the mood,” he says curtly, not slowing his stride. “Let the panel handle it.” She nods quickly. As he enters the cabin, the door barely closes before another presence fills the room. “Ryder.” He freezes The voice is familiarly unfamiliar — too warm and too emotional. He turns slowly. She stands there with sharp eyes and a familiar smile that irritates him instantly. Blond hair and her confident posture is so unafraid of him. “You again?” he asks coldly. Her smile falters. “It’s me. Zoe. Remember brother?” The name does nothing. “I don’t have time for this,” he says, already turning back to his desk. “Just go away!” Her eyes darken. “You don’t remember me always.” “I don’t remember a lot of people,” he snaps “Unless you have business, leave.” Before she can respond, his phone rings. he answers it sharply. “Harlow.” The voice on the other end delivers the news. The Singapore deal is gone. He sees red. “You promised confirmation,” he growls. “Do you have any idea what you just cost me?” Zoe speaks behind him “Ryder, calm down—” He whirls on her. “Stay out of it!” Her face pales. He ends the call violently and turns back to her, rage still burning on his handsome face. “If you came here for money or sympathy, you picked the wrong day.” She stares at him, wounded. “You’ve changed. You really don't remember your family, I see.” “I don’t care.” Silence stretches between them. Finally, she exhales sharply. “Fine. I hope you rot in that office of yours.” She leaves. A girl as young as her wouldn't handle such a temper. The door shuts. Something in his chest tightens, not guilt, not regret. Loss. He shakes it off. Zoe walks down the corridor, trying to steady herself, when she collides with me. “Oh! I’m sorry,” I say quickly. Zoe looks up. I'm young. Nervous. Beautiful in a soft, unassuming way. I have dark hair, expressive eyes, a calmness that feels… grounding. “No, that was my fault,” Zoe replies. “Are you here for the interview?” “Yes,” I nod. “I'm Aurora Braxton.” Zoe smiles gently. “I hope you get selected.” I smile back. “Thank you.” We part ways. Neither of us knows that the ground has already begun to shift. ● Ryder enters the interview room without warning. The panel stiffens instantly. His gaze sweeps the room, bored, irritated — until it stops. Me. Aurora Braxton. The world fractures. The chandeliers blaze in his mind. Gold light. Music. My eyes lifted to him across a ballroom drenched in power and magic. His lips, so close to mine. I see pain ripping through his skull. He grabs the back of a chair, breath hitching. “What’s your name?” He asks, though he already knows. “Aurora Braxton,” I say calmly, meeting my eyes without him. The ache intensifies. She’s the girl from my dream, he thinks. The one who vanished. “You’re done,” he says abruptly. The panel stares at him. And I'm in shock. “But sir—” “She’s not suitable.” He announces. I frown. “With respect, sir, you haven’t heard my full interview. I mean, we haven't even started.” “I don’t need to,” he snaps. “You’re dismissed.” Anger flashes across my face, red and unafraid. “I will answer every question perfectly.” “You give me a headache,” he says coldly, standing. “That is the reason and that's enough.” He leaves the room without another word. As he passes me, the air crackles. His chest burns like he's tearing something out of himself. Behind him, he hears hurried footsteps. “Mr. Harlow,” I call sharply. He stops. Slowly, he turns. Unwanting and letting out a sigh. I stand there, my eyes blazing, unyielding at him with confidence dripping. “You can’t just walk away,” I say. “Not from me.” Something feral stirs inside him. “You should stop following me,” He warns softly this time. I lift my chin. “I won’t.” He stares at me, the girl who brings him pain, memory, longing. And for the first time in years, he feels something dangerously close to fate.