when i woke up, the world was white.
not peaceful white.
not angelic white.
hospital white.
too bright. too clean. too cold.
my head felt like someone had cracked it open with a hammer, and the taste in my mouth… bitter metal, like betrayal had turned into something physical i could swallow.
i blinked once. then twice.
the ceiling blurred. then sharpened.
i wasn't dead.
unfortunately.
a deeper, smoother voice cut into the silence.
"you're awake."
i turned.
he sat in the corner like a shadow carved out of smoke and silk — the man from the ballroom. the stranger who caught me before i cracked my skull open in front of three hundred guests and a man who had once sworn he'd die without me.
his suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, a watch shining on his wrist.
expensive. quiet. dangerous.
a man who didn't need to announce power — he breathed it.
his eyes met mine, dark and too focused.
"do you remember what happened?" he asked.
"yes," i whispered, the word ripping out like a wound reopening.
"i remember everything."
my fiancé choosing my stepsister.
the whispers.
the humiliation.
the room spinning.
my chest tightened. i sat up quickly — too quickly — and pain shot up my spine like lightning.
the man was on his feet in a second.
"slow down," he said, gently pressing two fingers against my shoulder to steady me.
i should've pulled away.
but my body reacted before my pride — and for the first time that night, i didn't feel like i was falling.
"who are you?" my voice cracked.
"someone who saw enough."
his words were calm. measured.
like he had already judged the situation and filed it away like a business memo: your fiancé is trash; you deserve better; action plan pending.
"you don't even know me."
"i know betrayal when i see it."
my breath hitched.
he walked to the foot of the hospital bed, leaning one hand on the rail, staring at me like i was a puzzle he'd already started solving.
"i also know that fainting wasn't the only thing wrong."
my heart thudded painfully.
no.
if he had seen—
if he had noticed—
my hand subconsciously pressed against my lower stomach.
he watched the movement.
he felt the meaning behind it.
my throat dried.
"it's none of your business," i forced out.
he raised a brow. not mocking — curious, like a CEO reviewing a scandalous file.
"maybe. but you collapsing like that isn't 'none of my business' when you clearly have no one else to step in."
his words sliced clean, like truth always does.
i laughed under my breath. it came out hollow.
"i don't need rescuing."
"good." he folded his arms. "because i'm not here to rescue you. i'm here to offer you a choice."
a choice?
from a stranger?
i narrowed my eyes. "and that is?"
he stepped closer, the air shifting around him.
"let me help you take back everything they stole."
my heart stopped.
he didn't smile.
he didn't smirk.
he didn't soften.
he said it like a contract.
like a promise.
like he had the power to actually make it happen.
"why?" i whispered.
he held my gaze steady.
"because people like your ex and your family shouldn't be allowed to walk away clean."
my throat tightened.
my vision blurred again — not from fainting this time, but from the emotions I'd been burying under my ribs like broken glass.
"i don't even know your name," i breathed.
finally, finally, he stepped closer and extended a hand.
"liam arden."
the name hit me like a cold wave.
every news article…
every business headline…
every whispered rumor at elite parties…
liam arden.
CEO of Arden Corporation.
the man who took a dying empire and turned it into a kingdom.
the man who shut down companies with a single glance.
the man people called the quiet storm.
and he had been at my wedding.
watching.
my fingers trembled in the sheets.
"why were you there?" i asked.
he exhaled once, slow.
"because," he said simply, "your ex's father is negotiating with me for a merger. i came to observe. instead, i observed… that."
the humiliation.
the betrayal.
the spectacle.
"so this is business?" i whispered, unable to hide the disappointment.
his jaw tightened.
"if it were just business, i wouldn't be sitting here waiting for you to wake up."
my breath froze.
his voice dipped lower, smoother.
"i don't take interest in people. but you…"
he paused, eyes scanning my face like reading the footnotes of a story no one else bothered to understand.
"…you didn't deserve what happened tonight."
my chest warmed — painfully.
i looked away, blinking fast.
"thank you," i murmured. "but i don't need pity."
"good," he said immediately. "i don't offer pity."
his hand slid into his pocket, pulling out a sleek black card and placing it on the bedside table.
"call me when you're done hurting and ready to start fighting."
the room stilled.
the world felt different.
charged.
dangerous.
full of possibilities that hadn't existed twelve hours ago.
but before i could ask him anything else, a nurse knocked, and liam stepped back.
"i'll see you soon," he said, turning toward the door.
"wait—"
the word slipped out too fast, too desperate.
he paused… but didn't turn.
my voice was barely a whisper.
"why do you think i'll call you?"
he opened the door and finally looked over his shoulder.
"because you're not the type to stay broken."
and then he walked out.
leaving me with a racing heart,
a thousand questions,
and a black card holding the first step of the war i never thought i'd be brave enough to start.