Jaden sat in his father's office, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. The once-pristine tie now hung loose around his neck, his sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. He leaned back in the leather chair, staring out the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the city skyline. The world outside moved on, unaware of the storm that churned within him.
There was still time before his meeting with Aunt Dorothy.
The door opened quietly. Liya stepped in, carrying a lunchbox in both hands. Her eyes scanned his weary face before settling on the untouched breakfast still sitting on his desk.
"You're really going to meet Aunt Dorothy?" she asked, placing the lunchbox gently in front of him. "What if she's working with Uncle Lewis? You should think this through, Jaden."
Jaden turned toward her, his expression unreadable. "Even if that's the case… right now, I don't have the luxury to turn away help. She's a good woman, Liya. Remember—she was my mother's best friend. She wouldn't betray her."
His voice was steady, but the flicker of doubt in Liya's eyes didn't fade.
"I know," she said softly, "but still…"
They sat together in silence for a moment, the heavy air softened only by the scent of warm food and the quiet hum of the city.
"Do you remember how your mom always took my side whenever we got into trouble?" Liya suddenly asked, a smile tugging at her lips. "Even when it was clearly your fault?"
Jaden laughed, his first real laugh in days. "You were her little princess. I'd get scolded even if you broke the flower vase."
"And your dad," Liya added, chuckling, "always tried to act strict, but he'd sneak me candy afterward."
Jaden shook his head with a nostalgic sigh. "We used to think they were annoying when they'd fuss over us. Now... I'd give anything to hear them scold me again."
The mood turned solemn again, their laughter fading into silence as reality crept back in.
Before they knew it, the clock struck six.
"It's time," Jaden said, standing. He straightened his tie and grabbed his jacket.
"I'm coming with you," Liya said quickly, but he shook his head.
"No. You've done enough. Go home and rest." He paused, his gaze softening. "I'll be okay."
Reluctantly, she nodded, and he dropped her off at home before heading to the restaurant.
---
Aunt Dorothy was already seated when he arrived, her elegant posture commanding attention even in a crowded room. She wore a soft smile, her eyes lighting up the moment she spotted him.
"Jaden," she greeted warmly, standing to give him a gentle hug. "You look just like your father did at your age."
Jaden sat across from her, trying to hide the fatigue behind his smile. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Aunt Dorothy."
"Don't thank me," she said softly, her voice laced with emotion. "Your parents were family to me. I still can't believe your father's gone. And your mother..."
There was a moment of silence as both gathered themselves.
Then, Aunt Dorothy straightened in her seat, her expression sharpening.
"Let's talk about the company," she said. "I know my husband. Lewis is clever and ruthless, but he can be controlled—if you know how. I'm willing to support you, Jaden. Your father built that empire from scratch. I won't let it fall into the wrong hands."
Jaden nodded slowly. "I appreciate that. I don't know everything yet, but I'm learning. I just… I can't let him destroy what my father built."
"You won't," Dorothy said with conviction. "Not while I'm around."
Their conversation went for a while .
---
Later that night, Jaden drove home in silence. The city lights blurred past his windows, but his mind was focused. The path ahead was long, but for the first time in days, it felt a little less lonely because he had people supporting him.
---
Here's your scene rewritten in polished novel-style English, incorporating sensual tension and surreal confusion due to the drug effect, without revealing the identity of the other person:
---
The car rolled quietly through the gates of the Stone mansion. Night cloaked the estate in a blanket of silence. As Jaden stepped out, he noticed the unusual stillness — not a single light flickered from inside the house.
He loosened his tie, exhaling as the evening air brushed against his skin. Only then did he realize how tightly wound his body had been all day. The pressure in his temples began to fade, and a thin sheen of sweat cooled along the back of his neck.
The front door creaked softly as he pushed it open. The interior was dark. Maybe Liya already went to sleep, he thought. Not wanting to disturb her, he didn't turn on the lights, instead relying on memory to navigate the quiet halls.
He made his way into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of cold water from the fridge, and drank deeply. The coolness helped, but the strange warmth that had started in his chest remained, humming beneath his skin.
Upstairs, he checked on Liya. She lay peacefully beneath her blanket, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He gently shut the door and moved toward his own room.
As he stepped in, something felt... off.
The air was thick—almost suffocating—and there was an unfamiliar scent lingering in the room. Sweet, musky, almost floral, but laced with something sharper that tickled the back of his throat.
He reached for the light switch and flipped it. Nothing. The bulbs didn't flicker on.
"Odd. The power hadn't gone out."
With a low sigh, he pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight. The dim beam barely cut through the darkness, but enough to guide him. The strange heat deepened, soaking into his skin, threading through his veins like fire. He began to undress, hoping a cold shower would help.
The water hit his skin like relief, but even after scrubbing and rinsing repeatedly, the warmth refused to leave. It seemed to settle deeper within him, curling into his muscles, pooling in his chest and abdomen like liquid tension.
When he returned to the bedroom, towel-dried and dressed in light clothes, he collapsed onto the bed.
But something was there.
His hand hit something soft, warm—someone.
He jerked upright, heart pounding. Just as he reached for his phone again, a soft, trembling voice echoed beside him.
"Help... please…"
The cry was choked and broken, filled with fear and desperation. His whole body tensed. That voice....
He shook his head.
—his mind felt foggy, like a thick mist had invaded his thoughts.
He reached out cautiously, his fingers brushing against a warm arm. The moment their skin met, an odd sensation shot through him—blissful calm.
His body, which moments ago screamed for escape, now ached to stay close.
The figure beside him whimpered again, curling slightly toward him. As though drawn by a force he couldn't resist, he reached out further, pulling the person closer. Their skin was hot, damp with sweat, but the contact was... soothing.
His thoughts splintered.
One part of him screamed that something wasn't right—this wasn't normal. But the other part, the louder, more intoxicated part, urged him to stay still. To surrender.
Breaths quickened. A thin tremor ran through his limbs as he clung to the warmth beside him. Their heartbeats synchronized—his erratic and hers fluttering like wings against his chest. She trembled beneath his touch, yet didn't move away. Instead, a soft exhale escaped her lips as she whispered again, voice barely audible.
"Don't go…"
Whatever it was— it muddled his senses. He could no longer distinguish desire from confusion. He didn't know who she was, but his body responded instinctively, seeking out her heat, drawn to her scent, hungry for the comfort only she seemed to provide in that moment.