03/09/2025
Chapter 1
Sometimes, a single encounter can alter a person's destiny. A fleeting glance can be the beginning of a tragedy.
From the dim corridor, a suggestive murmur drifted out, punctuated by heavy, ragged breaths. A faint, cloying scent hung in the air, a testament to the fiery passion unfolding within.
Gently pushing open the heavy mahogany door, a thought crossed her mind: this place held a thousand illicit secrets. The next moment, Rosalind froze, the scene before her a shocking tableau.
The hallway was lit by only a few dim, flickering lamps. A man held a woman pinned against the wall, their bodies locked in a deep, sensual kiss.
Rosalind suppressed a gasp, a faint tremor running through her. She recognised the woman in the stiletto heels all too well.
“Have you seen enough?”
Suddenly, the man’s cold voice cut through the air.
“Ah—,” the woman let out a short, startled cry.
Rosalind lifted her face, her features obscured by a cascade of unruly dark hair. Her eyes met the man's black, piercing gaze, and she instinctively shrank back.
He was an exceptionally dangerous man, ruthless and cold. In the depths of his eyes, she could just make out the reflection of her own small, bewildered form, a girl who couldn't yet comprehend the raw, primal nature of what she was witnessing. She couldn't see his face clearly.
“Rosalind?!”
The woman cried out, frantically adjusting her dishevelled clothes. A look of pure disgust crossed her face. “You wretched little thing. Always popping up like something out of a horror film. I can hardly believe you’re my brother’s child.”
“Your niece?”
The man’s eyebrow arched. His voice, a rich, deep baritone, emerged as he slowly straightened his expensive suit. He was remarkably composed, as if the heated scene just moments before had nothing to do with him.
“Yes, my brother’s daughter. Alistair, pay her no mind. I suspect she’s a bastard your sister-in-law had behind my brother’s back.” The woman cast a venomous glance at Rosalind. “Tsk, does she ever brush that hair? Is she trying to hide some monstrous face? You’re just like your mother, always playing the victim. I don’t know what my brother ever did to deserve this.”
Rosalind ignored her aunt’s hateful words. Beneath the curtain of her hair, her small brow furrowed. Her soft lips parted, her voice childish but clear.
“Aunt Catherine, please don’t insult my mother. And also, could you please move?”
But then the man suddenly stooped, his tall frame bending down. His handsome face drew close to hers, his long, slender fingers reaching out as if to brush aside the strands of her hair. In that instant—
Rosalind instinctively took a step back. His fingers met only the cold, empty air.
The man’s rich, masculine scent filled her nostrils. She deftly avoided his touch, her eyes once again locking with his.
His eyes were beautiful, as bright and captivating as stars. For the first time in her life, Rosalind’s young heart felt a flutter of turmoil.
“Just like your mother, I see. Timid as a rabbit.”
The man let out a soft chuckle, his lips curving into a smile that held a deep, unfathomable meaning.
“Alistair, you… you knew my sister-in-law?” Catherine’s eyes widened, her voice rising in pitch.
The man didn’t answer. He slowly withdrew his hand, straightened up, and gently brushed a piece of lint from his sleeve. “I have a meeting to attend,” he said to the woman. “You’ll have to excuse me.”
With that, he gave a slight nod, turned, and walked with elegant strides down the long corridor.
“Alistair, don’t forget to call me—” Catherine’s voice was a mixture of frustration and longing. This man was like a drug, addictive and deadly, yet as cold as ice. One could never hope to understand his thoughts.
His brilliant eyes concealed too many secrets.
This was the first time Rosalind had ever seen the man named Alistair.
In that year, she was ten years old. He was twenty-one.
Chapter 2
A Harbinger of Misfortune
A fine, misty rain fell from the grey sky, the tiny droplets dancing in the air. The scent of damp earth and fragrant blossoms filled the funereal air as white petals drifted on the wind.
Destiny, she hadn't realised, could pivot so swiftly. A month later, a funeral was held at a private cemetery.
Two coffins, one black and one white, rested deep within the family plot. Few mourners had come to pay their respects.
Rosalind stood silently before the caskets. A simple white dress enveloped her small, frail body. Her long, dark hair, as always, fell forward, hiding most of her face. She held a basket of flowers, standing in mute stillness. The early morning mist was chilling. One by one, she placed the petals onto the polished wood of the coffins, a final farewell to her departed parents.
“Rosalind, you little wretch!”
A shrill, grief-stricken cry cut through the silence. Catherine, her face contorted with rage, stormed towards her, her hand raised—
“Smack!”
A heavy slap landed across Rosalind’s face. She stumbled, losing her balance and falling onto the damp grass. The petals scattered from her basket. A burning sting radiated across her cheek. The sudden violence had left her hair in a wild tangle. Her small body instinctively curled into a ball. “Auntie…” she whimpered.
“Shut up! I am not your aunt! It was you! You killed my brother! Your mother deserved to die. You’re just like her, a curse! The two of you, you brought this misfortune upon him! I hate you, I wish I could kill you…”
Catherine, seemingly possessed by madness, grabbed a fistful of Rosalind’s hair. Her eyes were bloodshot. Rosalind was only as tall as her aunt’s waist, but Catherine showed no regard for her niece’s age, striking her with brutal force.
Rosalind didn’t dare fight back, didn’t even dare to struggle. She simply endured the blows as they rained down, biting her lip so hard it bled to keep from crying out.
“Stop.”
Suddenly, a deep, masculine voice boomed from behind them. The two short words were enough to send a shiver down one’s spine.
A man in an impeccably tailored black suit approached. The sunglasses he wore only enhanced his dangerously handsome features, lending him a dark, sinister air. He moved like a king, flanked by several tall men in black.
Rosalind’s body trembled. She recognised that voice. The image of his cold, hawk-like eyes flashed in her mind. The pain finally brought tears to her eyes, but thankfully, her hair hid them. She would not allow herself to appear weak in front of Catherine. She would not admit that she was a curse.
“Alistair?” Catherine abruptly released her grip. Rosalind fell to the grass like a lifeless doll. “Alistair, you’re finally here! I’ve been trying so hard to find you. Did you know? My brother and his wife… they were in a car crash. I don’t know what to do…”
Catherine ran towards him, but when she was a mere foot away, one of the men in black stepped forward, blocking her path.
“Alistair, what is this?” Catherine stared in disbelief at the man in the sunglasses. His coldness was intoxicating. “Tell your man to let me pass.”
The man remained silent for a long moment, ignoring Catherine’s cries. He walked towards the head of the graves, his eyes glancing over the two coffins, an unreadable expression on his face.
Rosalind huddled by the caskets, her frail body trembling uncontrollably, her tangled hair shielding her from the world.
“We meet again,” the man said, his few words laced with an unnerving chill. This was the second time he had seen the girl. Just like a month ago, he still couldn't see the face hidden behind her hair.
“Alistair, what are you doing? Why are you paying attention to her? That wretched thing killed my brother and his wife. She’s a harbinger of misfortune!” Catherine cried, not understanding his intentions. She desperately wanted to pull him away from the girl, but the men in black surrounded her.
“A harbinger of misfortune?”
A cold, amused smile touched his lips. He reached out with his long, slender fingers and gripped Rosalind’s chin. “How interesting.”
Rosalind endured the pain, peering up through her hair at the tall man. The sunglasses hid his sparkling black eyes, but the aura of danger he exuded sent another wave of turmoil through her.
The wail of police sirens suddenly filled the air. Before Catherine could react, she was approached by plainclothes detectives.
“Ms. Catherine Shen, we’re from the Serious Fraud Office. We have sufficient evidence to charge you with the theft of confidential commercial documents from Shen Holdings one month ago, as well as falsifying financial records and illegal surveillance. Furthermore, we suspect your involvement in the accident that killed Mr. and Mrs. Shen. Please come with us to cooperate with the investigation.”
The accusations left Catherine dumbfounded, her face turning deathly pale.
Before she could process what was happening, the officers took her into custody. It was a bolt from the blue. Catherine struggled, turning her head, her eyes filled with tears as she looked pleadingly at the man. “No! No! You’re mistaken, you must be! Alistair… It was him… It was him…”
The little girl didn’t see the flash of cruelty in the man’s eyes. Catherine was her only remaining relative, but she could only watch helplessly as she was torn from her small world. Tears streamed down her face, the salty taste a bitter reminder of her grief.
“Don’t watch. Her crimes are numerous enough to keep her in prison for a decade,” he said, his eyes flicking towards the two coffins. He casually picked up a fallen white petal and tossed it into the air.
The petal danced with the fine rain, slowly drifting down onto the caskets. A cruel, triumphant curve formed on the man’s lips.
A gentle breeze brushed against Rosalind’s face, pushing aside a few strands of hair. A sharp pain gripped her chest, making it hard to breathe.
This man, who had been so intimate with her aunt just a month ago, now watched impassively as she was led away by the police. Who… who was he?
