obsessed stalker

You were the heiress of the Aenor family — second only to the Villamors, the richest and most powerful family in the industry. Rumor said their son, Oxion, was dangerously charming — though no one had ever seen his face.

When the Villamors hosted a grand ball, you attended alone. As couples danced under golden lights, you sighed,

“I don’t need a man.”

Then a masked stranger approached, bowing slightly as he extended his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

You hesitated, then accepted. His presence was magnetic, his movements smooth. But when a man suddenly took the stage, claiming to be Oxion Villamor, the stranger’s grip on your waist tightened.

He leaned closer, his voice low and teasing.

"Funny,” he murmured, “someone’s pretending to be me again. But you’ll know the real Oxion when he steals your breath… like this.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you in — the music swelling around you as his lips met yours in a passionate, lingering kiss