The Morning After ii

Adrian's eyes snapped open to the harsh light pouring in through the window, the room spinning as if he were caught in a whirlpool. His head felt like it was being crushed by a vise, the ache so intense that he thought for a moment he might pass out again. He closed his eyes, hoping the world would stop moving, but it didn't.

What the hell happened yesterday?

His mind was a blur, filled with fragmented memories that slipped through his fingers the moment he tried to hold onto them. He reached for his forehead, pressing his palm to it as if the simple contact would alleviate the pressure.

He attempted to recall anything-a conversation, a face, but nothing surfaced. The silence in the room was deafening, only broken by his erratic breathing and the relentless pounding in his skull.

The sheets that had tangled around him were warm, but he could feel the coolness of the air against his bare skin. He pulled at the blanket, yanking it away, exposing his nakedness. His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his limbs felt like they were weighted down, heavy and stiff.

Why was he naked?

He never slept naked. He never did anything like this. His heart skipped, and a flash of confusion settled in his chest.

He scanned his surroundings-his mind clawing for answers. Then, it came to him in bits, broken pieces that barely made sense. He remembered a face, a body, an overwhelming scent of perfume, and heat. The last coherent image he had before everything went dark was of a woman-no, not just any woman-a stranger. Someone from the club.

Had he been with her?

Adrian's stomach churned. He'd never done anything like this before-never let a woman manipulate him, never let himself sink into some cheap encounter without a thought. It disgusted him, but he couldn't piece it all together. The haze of alcohol, the lights, the music, the flashing images of the night before-none of it brought clarity.

His anger flared, hot and sharp. How could he be so reckless? He could barely remember her face, but the rage burned bright.

As his feet hit the floor, he stumbled, feeling a strange wetness beneath him. Blood. The sight of it made his stomach twist into knots.

She was a virgin.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He didn't care about her-he couldn't care less who she was, what she did. The only thing that gnawed at him now was the thought of who had set this all up. Who had played him like this?

Who the hell was behind it?

The pounding in his head intensified with every passing thought. His hand gripped the edge of the nightstand as he tried to steady himself, but it only seemed to make everything worse. He couldn't remember much more, but the feeling of something being off-the strange tension in the air from the moment he woke up-clung to him like a shadow.

Adrian staggered into the bathroom, the cold tile floor sending chills up his legs. He didn't want to think anymore. He didn't want to process anything. He just needed the numbing relief of a shower.

He turned the handle, and the cold water hit him like a shock. It was brutal, the icy droplets doing little to calm the storm in his mind, but at least it kept him grounded. The cold water ran down his back, the heat in his body fading slightly. He closed his eyes, pressing his hands against the tiled wall as the water poured over him, trying to find some clarity.

As he rubbed his skin, his fingertips caught on something rough. He paused and moved his hand slowly across his chest, then down his arms, his back, his shoulders. Scratches. Long, red fingernail marks, almost as if someone had clawed at him in the frenzy of the night.

The roughness, the desperation-it was all starting to make sense. He could almost feel the shivers of discomfort run through him as he pieced it together. The whole night must have been wild-rough. More than anything, it left him with nothing but disgust and a sense of betrayal.

But why?

His mind swirled, trying to piece the puzzle together, but the more he tried, the more the headache gnawed at him. It was a blur-a horrible, ugly blur. He gritted his teeth, the resentment swelling in his chest. He hated her, even though he couldn't even recall her name or her face properly.

And still, the nagging question remained: who was behind all of this?

He stepped out of the bathroom, steam lingering in the air. His body still ached, his head was pounding, but his mind was sharper now, more focused. The first thing that crossed his mind was to open the curtains. As he pulled them back, the morning light hit his eyes, but that wasn't what grabbed his attention. It was the sight of several people outside-reporters. How the hell did they find this place? His sanctuary, his hideout.

The thought of someone having discovered his location made his blood run cold. He barely had time to react when one of the reporters noticed the curtain flutter and instantly alerted the others. In a panic, he slammed the curtains shut. His pulse quickened, the weight of everything pressing down on him. *How did they know?* He couldn't think straight, the events of last night still a haze.

The door to his room swung open, and the Estate Manager stepped inside without knocking. Adrian barely spared a glance at his half-naked state. His anger had long overridden any concern for modesty. He was too consumed by the chaotic thoughts spinning in his mind.

"Apologies, sir," the Manager stammered, his eyes flicking nervously to Adrian's exposed chest. "I didn't mean to intrude, but there's something you need to know."

Adrian didn't even bother to respond with words. He was far too agitated. "What the hell is going on?" His voice was cold, the words clipped with fury.

The manager seemed to hesitate for a moment, then finally spoke. "Last night... I set you up. I arranged for you to be with one of the strippers from the club. She was willing. She knew what was at stake. I... I drugged your drink."

Adrian's jaw tightened. "You did what?" He could feel his fists balling up, his rage surging through him. He took a step closer, his icy gaze locking with the Manager's.

The Manager scrambled to explain. "I knew you'd never agree to get with someone, especially a woman, unless you were out of your mind. You hated women, sir. So I thought if I drugged your drink, you might... forget about your aversions long enough to pick one to marry. We're running out of time, Adrian. Half a month is already gone. You have only one and a half months left to find a wife, or else your power, your property, your name, will go to your twin."

Adrian clenched his fists harder, barely able to contain the anger boiling up inside. *His twin.* That was the last thing he needed. His name, his legacy, slipping away into the hands of someone else.

"But it didn't go as planned," the Manager continued, voice faltering. "You didn't sleep with the woman I set up for you. No. Instead, you ended up with someone else. A woman... who no one knows. She wasn't the stripper I hired. I don't know who she is or how she got here... but she's the one you ended up with."

The words hit Adrian like a brick. A woman he didn't know. Someone he didn't remember. But the blood, the evidence... it confirmed something. Adrian's thoughts began to spiral, but his fury wouldn't allow him to focus. All he cared about was the twist, the betrayal, and the fact that time was ticking down on him.

"Who the hell is she?" Adrian growled. His gaze never left the Manager's, whose face was drained of color.

"I-I don't know, sir. All I know is that when I woke up this morning and saw you were... in bed with her, I realized it all went wrong. You were supposed to marry someone strategically... a woman who could support your name and power. But now? You don't even remember her."

Adrian took a step forward, the rage in him reaching an unbearable crescendo. His hand shot out, seizing the Manager by the neck. "You... you dared to play me like this?" His voice was low, menacing.

The Manager gasped for air, his hands clawing at Adrian's iron grip. "Please, sir... I... I was only doing what I thought was right. Please, forgive me. I didn't mean for this to happen."

Adrian's icy stare cut into him like a blade. *He hated him.* The Manager had always been the puppet, the watchdog of his father, reporting every move Adrian made. Now, the man had betrayed him in the worst possible way.

Just as Adrian tightened his grip, ready to snap the man's neck, the door opened again. His PA entered, stepping in between the two men with a calm but firm voice. "Adrian, stop."

Adrian froze, eyes still seething with rage. His grip loosened, and he let go of the Manager, whose body collapsed in a heap on the floor. The PA didn't say a word more. He simply nodded to the Manager, who scrambled up and fled from the room, muttering words of gratitude under his breath.

As the Manager left, Adrian remained standing, his back stiff with the weight of everything that had just unfolded. His PA didn't even attempt to speak to him. The silence in the room was deafening, and Adrian could feel the weight of his own emotions pressing down on him.

Without a word, the PA turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Adrian stood alone, staring at nothing in particular. His mind whirled with anger, confusion, and a growing sense of betrayal. *Who was the woman?* What was happening to him? And most importantly... *who could he trust?*