Her heart stopped beating in its usual rhythm. It stumbled, faltered, as though it no longer belonged to her body. Her soul felt suddenly weak, her chest weighed down with a kind of suffocating dread. Her eyes refused to believe what her ears had just heard, and her ears burned as though dirt had been poured into them, poisoning every corner of her being.
She looked at him; this boy, this man, this menace. Llewellyn Blackwood. His expression was calm yet dangerous, his lips curved into a cruel smile, and his eyes glimmered with amusement. To him, her disbelief was nothing more than entertainment. To her, it was insult, degradation, a wound too sharp to ignore.
Yet even in the face of that, Diane was strong. Stronger than he could imagine. She forced her trembling spirit to compose itself, dragging her strength up from the ashes of her pride.
Before she even realized what she was doing, her hand shot up on its own. A slap.
The sound cracked like thunder across the seminar hall.
The entire hall fell into silence, pierced only by the sharp echo of her palm against his cheek.
Gasps rippled across the room like a wave.
"Llewellyn!" A lady rose abruptly from her chair, her voice filled with shock. Diane's eyes flicked toward her, wondering, who she was?
Llewellyn's face turned slightly to the side from the force of the blow. He did not move, did not lash back. His teeth clenched tightly, his jawline sharp as steel, his fists curling in quiet restraint. His entire presence darkened, and though he stood motionless, he seemed suddenly far more dangerous than before.
Who was this woman, his mind seethed, so bold to lay her hand on me?
The reckless one had just met his reckoning.
Diane, still in shock at her own actions, slowly rose to her feet as if pulled by invisible strings. Her heart thundered against her ribs, yet her stance refused to crumble. Anger, disgust, and a trembling fear warred inside her chest. It was all his fault. All of it. Yet she would not shrink back. She would not bow her head to a man like him.
"Who do you think I am?" Diane's voice rang out, fierce despite the tremor beneath it. "Do you think I am some kind of girl you can put a price tag on?"
Her words soared, trembling yet sharp, cutting through the thick silence.
Dozens of eyes turned toward her, and she felt the weight of the crowd settle heavily against her skin. Whispers and murmurs followed instantly.
"What did she say?"
"How dare she slap him…"
None of it was in her favor. She stood in the center of a sea of strangers, yet none seemed willing to stand beside her.
Who is this man, Diane wondered bitterly, that they all support him blindly without even knowing what he said?
A phrase reached her ears, hushed yet clear enough to freeze her blood.
"Now she's going to die."
Her spine turned to ice. Was this truly the end for her? Would defending herself cost her life? She had seen the way everyone respected him, bowed before him, as though he was something untouchable. If that was the case, then perhaps the word "yes" was already written as her fate.
Rick, silent as ever, was already at Llewellyn's back. His dark eyes met Diane's across the hall, speaking what his lips did not:You shouldn't have done that.
Llewellyn's lips curved slowly into a smirk, emerging from the tension like a predator amused by its prey. The air thickened around him. It wasn't a harmless smile, it was dangerous, venomous, promising consequences Diane could not yet imagine. To him, women were toys, amusement, a price to be won or discarded.
"Llewellyn…" The lady from before reached his side, clutching at his shoulder, desperation written across her face. She looked rich — her dress neat and shiny, her hair perfectly styled, her nails polished like glass. Everything about her screamed money and pride.
Diane's eyes narrowed. One of his girlfriends, she guessed in a heartbeat.
He scoffed lightly, then smiled wider, his anger tangled with intrigue.
"How interesting," he muttered, almost to himself. No girl had ever dared strike him. No girl had ever stood up to him in public. And yet here was this stubborn girl, with fire in her voice and defiance in her eyes. For a moment, he felt something strange. A piece of him cracked, his pulse skipping as though struck by a hammer. Was it anger? Was it amusement? Or something else?
Diane's gaze shifted nervously. How could he smile in such a situation? What is going to happen to me now? She forced herself to stand tall, though inside she was breaking, swallowing her fear over and over like bitter medicine.
Llewellyn finally rose to his feet. He stood tall, his aura bursting like a predator finally interested in the hunt. Charisma dripped from every movement, but beneath it was sharp danger. He leaned forward slightly, his voice calm yet filled with an edge that could slice through bone.
"Hey" he said softly, coldly, "do you want to die?"
Her heart stuttered again, but she forced her voice to hold, clinging to the scraps of her courage. "I am not something you can purchase."
He chuckled, part amused, part furious."I gave you an offer that is irresistible." He paused, his gaze trailing over her as though he could see through her very soul. "What you need is clearly written all over you." His words dripped with condescension, his tone laced with poisonous generosity, as though he was offering her mercy she did not deserve. Then, his lips curled. "I would have you if I want you, Diane."
Her chest tightened. How does he know my name?
"I don't want your money!" she snapped back, fire burning through her chest.
"You'll pay for this," Diane whispered fiercely, eyes locked on his. Their glares clashed like steel against steel, a silent battle raging beneath the surface.
They stood at the back of the hall, near the glowing seminar screen, their duel invisible yet undeniable.
An instructor stepped in, unaware of their duel. "You two are compatible partners."
Both Diane and Llewellyn froze.
"What?" she gasped.
Diane quickly raised her hand. "No, sir! I would like another partner!"
The instructor frowned, then turned his eyes respectfully toward Llewellyn. "Are you comfortable with that, Sir Llewellyn?"
Sir? Diane's stomach twisted. Why was he given such reverence?
"It's just right," Llewellyn replied smoothly, a wicked smile creeping onto his lips. Perfect. Now he had the excuse to tie her to him.
The instructor nodded as though Diane's protest had been mere noise, not worth acknowledgment.
Llewellyn leaned close to her ear, his voice low, his breath icy. He leaned closer, "Look, Miss Diane… if you want to survive, you will have to stay with me." The mockery in his tone cut deep. "Protocols bend for me, not the other way around."
His words were not just arrogance, they were threat.
The lady at his side tugged at him desperately. "Llewellyn, let's get away from her."
He gave her a faint, dismissive glance. "You're overstepping."
Diane blinked. The woman froze at his words.
"What are you waiting for?" Llewellyn's eyes slid back to Diane. "Go and get our copy."
"Copy of what?" she asked bitterly.
"Our partnership form," he said, firmly. Then he turned, walking out of the hall with hands in his pockets, posture unshaken, as though the slap had never happened. Some students watched in awe; others drooled over his presence. His face was a storm of anger, amusement, and undeniable charisma.
The crowd followed him with their eyes, whispering, praising, sighing at his handsomeness even in his stern anger. Some called him perfect. Others bit their lips at his aura. He was a spark in every eye, whether they feared or adored him.
Outside the seminar, Llewellyn paused on the pavement, replaying the incident in his head. Rick kept walking, hands stuffed in his jacket.
"Hey, where are you going?" Llewellyn called out.
Rick turned. "Don't you know? To my grandma's." His tone was blunt, sharp with quiet irritation. Rick had only his grandmother since his parents died when he was four.
Llewellyn strode closer, lowering his voice. "Look, I know you're angry for what I said back there, but..."
Rick cut him off. "Don't act all cool. It's something you do and will forever do."
Llewellyn arched a brow, smiling faintly. "Is it a curse?"
Rick's stern look deepened.
"Kind of sounds like a one," Llewellyn admitted, his smile fading. His thoughts drifted back to Diane, the girl who dared stand against him. "I don't know what she wants…" he murmured.
Rick chuckled, gesturing dramatically as though slapping himself. "Bro, what did you say to her that made her..." he mimed the slap, bursting into laughter. "Your face!"
Llewellyn's jaw twitched. He stood motionless, swallowing Rick's ridicule, though inside it burned.
Rick's laughter only grew. "Man, I wish I had recorded that..."
His eyes suddenly caught sight of Llewellyn's driver standing outside the sleek car, stiff like a soldier.
Behind them, the woman from before appeared again, her elegant pink gown swaying as she hurried forward. Her brown hair gleamed in the light, styled with careful perfection, and a diamond bracelet sparkled on her wrist. She reached Llewellyn's side, voice trembling with desperation. "Llewellyn, why are you ignoring me?"
Rick sighed. "Bro, just go with your driver." He gestured lazily toward the waiting car. "I'm off the clock. Solve your problem."
He left without looking back, heading toward his grandmother's house.
Meanwhile, Diane stormed out of the seminar, her fists clenched tight. "I will make him pay," she muttered.
At the gate, her eyes caught sight of Llewellyn sitting with that same girl, the one clinging to him.
"Llewellyn, please, just listen to me," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "You can't just end things like this. I love you. I can't let you go."
Llewellyn's reply was ice-cold. "I already broke up with you."
No remorse. No affection. Just finality.
Diane's blood boiled. "What a jerk," she muttered under her breath, her fury glowing in her eyes.
He noticed her staring and, with a cruel smirk, wrapped his arm tightly around the pleading girl's waist. The girl lit up instantly, mistaking his cruelty for reconciliation.
Diane clenched her fists tighter. Trying to make me jealous when I already hate you?
She spun on her heel and left, her teeth grinding. What a scumbag.
At the gate, her phone rang. Clara's voice filled the line. "Diane...dad is really ill."
Her heart lurched. "What?"
A sudden bump jolted her; someone brushed past her shoulder, muttering a quick apology. She gasped, instinctively clutching her phone tighter, but her focus stayed locked on the voice on the other end.
"Don't worry. He's already at the hospital," Clara reassured quickly.
"What hospital?" Diane demanded, her voice cracking.
She hurried into the crowded bus, her heart torn. The aisle was narrow, the air heavy with bodies pressed too close. She pushed toward the back, desperate to find a seat.
And then...
Her eyes lifted.
Across the bus, another pair of eyes locked with hers.
Cold, dark, amused.
Llewellyn Blackwood.
The predator had found his prey again.