ARDEN ENRIQUE ZAYN
"You think I want to do all this? I'm sick of it.
Why the hell should I be bound to you? Don't flatter yourself—I don't work for you, and I sure as hell don't answer to anyone. I decide who I work with, and I control my own life. You think just because you paid me once to fix the mess of your pathetic excuse of a company, you can own me?"
The glass of vintage French Merlot—aged more than twenty years—shattered against the black marble wall as Arden hurled it in fury. In a heartbeat, he grabbed the collar of the older man in front of him—somewhere in his 70s, yet still full of fire. The man staggered back slightly, lifted onto the balls of his feet from Arden's rough grip.
His hands shot up instinctively to break Arden's hold, burning under the strain. His blue eyes, now faded to steel-grey, hinted at age more than weakness. Thick mustache, streaked white, matching the long, low-tied hair brushing his shoulders. Wrinkled but dignified—the kind of old man who once commanded empires.
He smiled, masking the fear trembling beneath the surface, as if Arden weren't seconds away from crushing his windpipe. Arden's grip was brutal, veins bulging, gaze fixed with the intensity of a predator about to strike. The old man had clearly overstepped. Arden Enrique Zayn was not a man to be provoked.
In the shadows of encrypted networks, Arden had a name few dared whisper. His face? Only a handful had ever seen it. He worked in isolation, always with his two trusted shadows at his side. Anthony Dwiss, the man now cowering in front of him, had dared to reach out to Arden when his secret organization crumbled after a failed attempt to hack DE PHILIPS CORP.
He offered Arden an obscene amount of money to fix it. Arden accepted—not because he cared, but because he didn't.
But now, the game had changed. Maya had been dragged into it.
She was hit by a car—left broken and bloodied. If fate hadn't spared her, Arden would've lost himself entirely. That crash? That was Anthony's move. To threaten Arden by targeting the one soul he would bleed for.
But Anthony had no idea—Arden could destroy him without blinking. Kill him and vanish without leaving a trace.
But Maya... Maya could never know. Never know that Arden once saved the very company that tried to burn DE PHILIPS CORP to the ground.
—The Accident—
Bang!
Her Range Rover spun violently as a black car rammed into it—no license plate. Maya clutched the steering wheel, fighting to regain control as the vehicle flipped, metal crunching, glass exploding.
Her head slammed against the window—blood, shards, the scream of metal as the car rolled. Smoke curled from the wreckage.
Gasping for breath, her tears spilled silently. She had gone out alone. Of course it happened now.
Dangling upside down, she fumbled for the seatbelt strangling her torso. Dazed, she looked through the cracked glass as the black car vanished into the night. Her vision blurred.
"A-Argh... help..." she sobbed, voice weakening.
"Call home. RR1, activate communications..." she whispered to the car's AI. No response. Her fingers trembled over the controls. Dead.
Blood trickled down her beautiful face.
"MAYA!"
A voice. Loud. Raging. A silhouette ran to the wreckage, wrenched open the mangled door.
One swift pull—her seatbelt snapped loose. Her body collapsed into the strong arms of the man who lifted her away from the smoking wreck.
"Maya, wake up, baby. Please, come on..."
He cradled her, arms streaked with her blood. His voice cracked as he whispered against her skin.
Her chest rose—barely. She gasped for air.
"Ugh... it hurts..."
Her voice was barely a breath. Dry. Broken. He held her tighter, as if trying to anchor her to this world.
"Arden... take me home..."
Her fingers curled around his neck. Holding on. Their heartbeats crashed against each other. She saw clearly now. It was him.
Arden.
Collapsed to the ground, embracing her like a man clinging to life. He stood, lifting her with trembling arms. She was alive. Breathing. Cold in his embrace, but alive.
---
Arden was a technological prodigy. At 18, he was already a CISO-level analyst, lauded across cybersecurity circles. His late father once worked for DE PHILIPS CORP and later founded a small security firm that evolved into a private cyber-defense empire.
But Arden refused the inheritance—passed it to his cousin, the son of his father's brother, who raised him after his father's death when Arden was just 20. Arden chose a different path.
He became a ghost in the digital world. A fixer. A shadow. Clients with broken systems begged for his help—and paid dearly. Money came in faster than he could spend. Eventually, he formed a small loyal team.
His genius reached the ears of Mr. Bills—his father's old colleague. Their first meeting? At a grave. Arden, drunk but composed, lying beside his father's tombstone, covered in blood-red rose petals. The only isolated grave in the cemetery, far from the others.
Mr. Bills saw him there and knew. For six years, they explored tech together. Arden helped DE PHILIPS CORP overcome countless cybersecurity threats. In return, he learned everything about their advanced systems.
---
The small round table was covered with a faded white tablecloth with fruit patterns. A vase of lily buds sat in the center—placed there by Mr. Bills' wife before she was taken to the hospital.
He sat alone, chin resting on his hand, under the dim yellow light. His children were away at school. The house was too quiet. The wind howled outside.
It was 2 a.m. Arden still wasn't home.
Knock, knock.
The door opened. Arden stepped inside, the faint scent of alcohol trailing behind him.
Another bar.
Mr. Bills didn't need to ask. His face said it all.
"You're drunk again?" he said, voice emotionless.
Arden's jaw tensed. His voice broke the silence.
"I'm not causing trouble. So don't worry."
"I just had a drink. A little fun." He rubbed his hands over his thighs, trying to stay calm.
He respected this man—who had become a father to him.
But what was Mr. Bills supposed to do? Arden wasn't reckless, but he lived without direction. He had more money than he could spend, but no purpose.
Mr. Bills glanced at the lilies.
"Arden, tomorrow you'll start working under DE PHILIPS CORP," he said abruptly.
The words sliced through the air. Arden sobered up instantly.
"You're joking," he scoffed.
"No joke. We leave early. There are things to settle."
Arden raised an eyebrow. Speechless. He couldn't say no. Respect ran deeper than rebellion.
"I won't work for a selfish woman like my mother," he muttered defiantly.
How did he know Maya was selfish? He just knew.
His father once said the DE PHILIPS heir was arrogant, entitled. Arden had once seen a teenage Maya shouting at an employee, firing them over a robot that didn't meet her standards.
Mr. Bills scratched his head. "Maya isn't as bad as you think, Arden."
The decision was final. Arden would go.
"Oh, and by the way... Arden, have you ever had sex?"
Arden froze. Eyes wide.
What the hell kind of question was that?
"Yes," he lied.
But the truth? He'd never touched a woman he didn't love. He believed women were to be protected, not used. When desire surged, he handled it himself.
If he ever truly let go, he knew women would be addicted to him. But he never let it happen. Even in bars, he'd walk away.
"Then you'd better learn how to control yourself," the old man warned.