The next morning, Ariella stood outside Blackwood Tower, watching its glass façade shimmer in the sunlight. Her heart still raced from yesterday's encounter. The mysterious ring, the cold yet fleeting warmth in Damian's eyes — it was all tangled inside her like a secret melody she couldn't forget.
But there was no time to dwell on mysteries. She had a job to do, bills to pay, and a younger brother counting on her.
Inside the towering skyscraper, Damian sat behind his vast desk, the golden ring gleaming ominously on his finger. His mind churned with questions, and an unfamiliar feeling gnawed at him.
Who was that girl?
He had seen many faces come and go — assistants, couriers, sycophants — but Ariella was different. There was a spark in her eyes, a resilience he hadn't expected. And beneath the rough exterior, something tender.
Yet the curse loomed over him like a shadow.
Every moment he spent near her, the ring's glow intensified. The ancient magic was restless, reacting to emotions Damian barely understood.
His assistant knocked and entered with a file. "Sir, your schedule is full today. But there's a message from the one who gave you the ring — she says it's time."
Damian's heart skipped. Time for what?
Later that evening, Ariella returned home, exhausted but determined. Her tiny apartment was modest — peeling paint, a single flickering bulb, and a worn-out couch. But it was filled with memories of her late mother and dreams of a better future.
As she prepared dinner for her brother, her phone buzzed with a notification.
> "Your presence is requested at Blackwood Tower. Urgent."
Her breath caught.
The game was about to change.
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