Chapter 1

Crystal chandeliers filled the grand ballroom with warm golden light as politicians, business owners, celebrities, and other wealthy guests gathered for the Whitmore Foundation's annual charity gala. Soft music played in the background while waiters walked around serving champagne and snacks.

At the center of it all stood Serena Whitmore.

Her crimson silk gown clung to every elegant curve before cascading to the floor in soft, flowing waves. A daring slit revealed a flash of leg with each movement, and diamonds sparkled at her throat and wrists, catching the light with every graceful gesture.

Her dark hair was swept into a flawless chignon that accentuated the elegant line of her neck. She wore the same composed smile the world had come to expect from her beautiful, confident, and untouchable the very smile that had graced countless magazine covers since she turned eighteen.

It was the kind of smile that made half the men in the room dream and the other half forget their words. Yet it never quite reached her eyes.

“Miss Whitmore, would you honor me with a dance?”

Serena turned to find a young senator standing beside her, wearing a hopeful grin. She barely remembered his name and made no effort to recall it.

“I’m afraid I’ve already promised the next dance to someone else.”

His face fell. “Oh… I didn’t realize.”

“I lied,” she said simply. “I simply don’t want to dance.”

Embarrassment colored his cheeks for a moment before he forced a polite laugh. “You certainly have a reputation for honesty.”

“I prefer to call it efficiency.”

He cleared his throat, muttered something about enjoying the evening, and disappeared back into the crowd. Serena lifted her champagne glass to her lips, concealing the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Two minutes. Not her shortest record.

She leaned lazily against a marble column, watching couples glide across the dance floor as cameras flashed around them. Nearby whispers drifted toward her.

“She’s stunning.”

“I heard three CEOs proposed to her last year.”

“They say she turned every single one down.”

“Typical Serena… so beautiful, and completely impossible.”

She ignored them. People always talked about her fortune, her attitude, her refusals. None of it interested her.

Her phone vibrated inside the small crystal purse at her wrist. When she glanced at the screen, an unknown number stared back. Her practiced smile vanished. A strange knot tightened in her stomach as she opened the message.

"Red looks beautiful on you. It’s almost the same color you’ll wear when I finally make you mine."

A second message followed almost immediately.

"Turn around."

Her heartbeat faltered.

Slowly, carefully, she looked over her shoulder. The ballroom was filled with hundreds of people laughing, drinking, talking, and dancing.

Any one of them could be him. Her breathing grew uneven as her gaze darted from face to face, searching for something anything that might explain the icy dread crawling beneath her skin. But everyone looked perfectly normal, which somehow made it worse.

“You alright?”

The familiar voice startled her. She quickly locked the phone and turned to find her father standing there. Richard Whitmore studied her with narrowed eyes, concern etched across his weathered face.

“You look pale.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve said that every time I’ve asked over the past month.”

“I’m still fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. Richard Whitmore had built a financial empire from nothing, and his ability to read people was legendary especially when it came to his own daughter.

“You’ve been distracted lately.”

“I’ve been bored lately. There’s a difference.”

She forced another smile. “I’m just tired, Dad. That’s all.”

Before he could press further, an event organizer approached.

“Mr. Whitmore, the mayor has arrived.”

Richard glanced between the organizer and Serena. “We’ll continue this conversation later.”

“I’ll be waiting with overwhelming excitement,” she replied dryly.

He sighed. “I miss when you smiled because you meant it.”

Her heart squeezed. “So do I.”

He lingered for a moment longer before walking away to greet his guests. Serena let out the breath she’d been holding, hating how easily the lies came and how much she hated worrying him.

Another vibration. Then another. And another.

She excused herself and moved farther down the balcony after stepping outside into the cool night air. The messages waited for her.

"You shouldn’t ignore me."

"I don’t like when other people make you smile."

"Go back inside. You’re getting cold."

Her body went rigid. He could see her right now. She scanned the gardens below frantically, but the security guards, luxury cars, and wandering guests revealed nothing unusual.

Yet someone was watching.

The champagne glass slipped from her fingers and shattered against the stone floor.

“Serena!”

Evelyn hurried over, her best friend’s face etched with worry.

“I’m fine,” Serena whispered, but her voice broke. For the first time in years, the carefully constructed walls around her began to crack.

“I just… I want to go home.”

The Whitmore Mansion rose behind towering iron gates on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by acres of manicured gardens and guarded around the clock. It had always felt like a fortress. Tonight, it felt like a prison.

Serena stepped out of the limousine before the chauffeur could fully open the door and hurried toward the entrance. She had barely reached the front steps when she saw it: a single crimson rose resting neatly on the marble floor. No card. No ribbon. Just the flower.

The head butler frowned. “That wasn’t here when we left, Miss.”

Richard picked it up carefully. A folded note slipped from beneath it. His expression darkened as he read it, then handed it to her without a word.

The familiar handwriting sent a chill racing down her spine.

"No amount of money, guards, or walls can keep you away from me. Soon… you’ll finally be mine."

The note fluttered from her trembling fingers. Tears she had fought so hard to contain finally spilled over. Richard caught her as her knees buckled, wrapping his arms around her protectively. Fury burned in his eyes fury she had never seen before.

“Enough.”

His voice was low and deadly. He looked toward his head of security.

“Double the guards tonight.”

Then he turned back to his daughter, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“I’m done hoping this coward disappears.”

He glanced at his assistant.

“Tomorrow morning, find me the best personal protection officer in the country. I don’t care what it costs. I want my daughter protected and I want whoever is doing this found."

He said and my eyes widened.

"No." Her voice came out sharper than she intended as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I don't need a babysitter."

Richard held her gaze without blinking. "You don't need a babysitter."

He folded the threatening note and slipped it into his pocket.

"You need someone who can keep you alive.”