Norah stepped through the grand iron gates of Everson Villa, her heels clicking against the stone pavement. It had been years since she set foot in Eldoria, and yet, the air still carried the weight of everything she had left behind.
The mansion loomed before her, an eerie silence wrapping around its walls. Something felt off. There were no guards, no staff, no sign of life. Only the wind, rustling through the trees.
She clutched her purse tighter. This wasn't right.
Then, she heard it—a muffled groan. Faint, but distinct.
Her pulse quickened. "President Everson?" she called, stepping forward.
No response.
She followed the sound, her sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit hallways until she reached the grand living room. And there, crumpled on the marble floor like a fallen god, was Jacob Everson.
Her breath hitched.
He was shirtless, his tanned skin smeared with blood, his body battered and bruised beyond recognition. Dark bruises lined his ribcage, a deep gash along his jaw still oozing fresh crimson. His hair, once perfectly styled, was disheveled, sticking to his damp forehead.
His chest rose and fell with difficulty, his fingers twitching slightly as he tried—and failed—to move.
Then his gaze lifted.
His honey coloured eyes, still just as devastating, locked onto hers. And in that moment, she saw it—recognition. Shock. Something deeper.
"…Norah?" he rasped.
Her stomach tightened.
She shouldn't feel anything. Not for him. Not after everything he had done. But seeing him like this—a man once untouchable, now broken at her feet— sent a foreign ache through her.
Still, she kept her face impassive. "Mr. Everson?"
Jacob flinched slightly at the formality, his brows furrowing.
"You?" Norah continued, snapping herself out of it. She ripped open the file in her hands, scanning the documents she hadn't had time to review before. The name on the papers didn't match the one she once knew—he had changed it.
Jake Elordi. Now Jacob Everson.
The past had come full circle.
She should have walked away. She should have left him bleeding on the floor, a fitting end for the man who had destroyed her life.
But instead, she knelt beside him.
"We must call a doctor," she advised, her voice firm.
Jacob barely managed a shake of his head. "No. I can't let anyone see me like this."
Norah scoffed. "You care about your reputation more than your health?"
Jacob winced as he shifted slightly, his jaw clenching. "I can't let them know. It'll affect my business. Please… just assist me in cleaning the wounds. I'll arrange everything. We need to leave before something bad happens again."
Norah studied him. The desperation in his voice. The vulnerability in his eyes. He wasn't asking, he was pleading. And that was a sight she had never imagined seeing from Jacob Everson.
It made her uneasy.
With a sharp breath, she stood. "Fine. But don't expect any sympathy from me."
Jacob gave a weak, humorless chuckle. "Wouldn't dream of it."
She ignored him and headed for the bathroom, gathering a first-aid kit, a clean towel, and a bowl of warm water. When she returned, he was still watching her, his gaze unreadable.
She knelt between his legs, dipping the towel into the water.
The moment her fingers touched his bare skin, something shifted.
Norah froze for a fraction of a second, her breath caught in her throat.
Memories slammed into her.
His mouth on hers, hot and demanding. His hands tracing slow patterns along her waist, her spine, her thighs. The way he used to whisper her name—as if it belonged only to him.
Her grip tightened around the towel. That was a lifetime ago. That girl was dead.
She pressed the damp cloth against his ribs, and Jacob hissed at the contact.
"Tch… careful," he muttered.
Norah rolled her eyes. "Stop whining."
But as she worked, she could feel his stare.
Jacob was watching her—closely.
Her emerald eyes, once warm and innocent, were now sharp and cold. The softness he used to mold under his hands was gone. She had become something else, something stronger, untouchable.
And yet, he still remembered.
He remembered the way she used to look at him like he was her entire world. The way she had clung to him, breathless, as he kissed every inch of her skin.
And now, she was so close again. Her face inches from his, her lips soft and inviting.
God, she was beautiful.
His gaze dipped lower, lingering on her mouth. He remembered what it felt like to have those lips moan against his. He remembered how she had once been his.
And looking at her now, knowing she was no longer the girl he had destroyed—it did something to him.
It made him crave.
The air between them grew thick, charged with something neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
Jacob's voice dropped. "You still smell the same."
Norah stilled.
A flicker of something—anger? Desire?—flashed in her eyes before she scoffed. "And you still talk too much."
She tossed the bloodstained towel aside, standing abruptly. Distance. She needed distance.
Jacob smirked slightly, even through his pain. He had gotten to her.
Norah turned on her heel, heading toward the bathroom. She needed to breathe. But as she gripped the cool edges of the marble sink, she knew the truth.
Jacob Everson was dangerous.
Because despite everything, the betrayal, the heartbreak, the years of carefully built walls—
He was still the only man who made her pulse race.
And she hated him for it.