Chapter 1
Aurelia
The darkness is a living thing, wrapping around me like a shroud.
Hands, countless hands emerge from the shadows, their fingers icy and unyielding, clawing at my wrists, my ankles, my throat.
They’re desperate to silence me, to smother my voice before it can escape.
I twist and thrash, but the room is a haze of dim, flickering light, the walls jagged and indistinct, like a half-remembered ruin.
The air hums with whispers, sharp and unintelligible, slicing through the fog of my panic.
There are no faces, no bodies. Just those hands, relentless, pulling me deeper into the black.
I try to scream, but nothing. The weight of the hands stealing my breath.
The shadows pulse, alive. And I’m sinking, drowning in their grip.
I wake up choking on my own breath. My heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. Sweat slicks my skin, and my hands tremble so violently I have to grip the sheets just to feel something solid. For a moment, I don’t know where I am. Only that I’m not safe. Not yet.
When my mind finally catches up, I realize it’s morning. The soft light filtering in feels cruel, too gentle for how raw I feel inside. My chest aches. My throat burns. The echo of those hands, phantom, impossible, still lingers on my skin.
I sit there for a while, breathing like I’ve just surfaced from drowning. My heart won’t slow down. It’s as if part of me is still trapped there, in that nightmare. Still being dragged under. Sometimes I wonder if I ever really escaped.
The words hang in the air, too heavy, too honest. I move through the motions of morning.
Washing my face, brushing my hair, dressing for work.
I slip into a soft cream blouse tucked into high, waisted charcoal trousers.
It’s effortlessly put together, professional enough for the office, yet comfortable enough to breathe in.
But everything feels mechanical, distant.
My reflection stares back at me with eyes that don’t look like mine anymore. Eyes that remember too much.
I sip my coffee, bitter and scalding, trying to burn the dream out of me from the inside. It doesn’t work.
By the time I step outside, the city is already buzzing.
Life moving forward as if nothing happened.
But inside me, the nightmare lingers, a quiet pulse beneath my ribs.
It always does. I hail a cab and slide into the back, grateful for the brief reprieve.
My pulse is still too fast, my skin clammy even under the gentle warmth of the morning air.
The driver fiddles with the radio, and a news segment crackles through the static.
“Billionaire developer Keith Krogen is at it again,” the announcer says, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.
“His latest project, the Elysian Haven Resort, is set to redefine luxury. Picture this: a man-made island in the Pacific, crafted from the ground up to be the most extravagant retreat the world has ever seen. Crystal waters, private villas, amenities so opulent they’re practically mythical.
Krogen says it’s a paradise beyond imagination, and knowing his track record, we believe him. ”
I lean back against the seat, raising an eyebrow.
Another billionaire with a pet project. It sounds like a fantasy for the ultra-rich, a world I’ll never touch.
Still, the name Elysian Haven lodges itself in my mind, conjuring images of turquoise waves and glass-walled villas gleaming under a perfect sun.
I shake my head, dismissing it. Just another headline.
The cab weaves through morning traffic, the city nothing but streaks of chrome and glass.
When we pull up to my office building, a sleek tower catching sunlight like a sharpened blade.
I pay the driver and step out. I’ve barely taken two steps toward the revolving doors when Theo appears, practically bouncing like a golden retriever who’s spotted his favorite human.
He’s tall and lean, curls perfectly messy, hazel eyes bright with mischief and caffeine.
His olive skin glows like he just teleported from a beach in Capri.
Today he’s in a charcoal blazer over a white shirt, the top button undone.
Theo’s signature ‘I woke up like this, but also spent forty minutes perfecting it’ look.
“Aureliaaa!” he calls, jogging over with that grin that could power a small city. But then his smile falters as he gets a closer look at me. “Girl… what happened to you? You look like you wrestled a demon in your sleep and lost. Bad night? Babes, talk to me.”
I blink, caught off guard. “I’m fine. Just… tired, that’s all.”
“Fine?” he repeats dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Lies. I know you. Those are ‘I didn’t sleep, don’t speak to me’ eyes.” He leans in. “You need coffee? A hug? A priest? I can arrange any of the three.”
I laugh despite myself. “Theo, I’m okay, seriously.”
He squints suspiciously but lets it go. Then, instantly, his expression lights up again.
“Okay, anyway, babes, did you hear about Keith Krogen’s new project?
Elysian Haven?” He grabs my arm as we walk inside.
“Oh. My. God. Girl. It’s insane. The man has literally built an island.
Who wakes up one day and says ‘Hmm, I think I’ll just… create land today’?”
I snort. “Caught it on the radio. Sounds like a billionaire fever dream.”
Theo gasps theatrically. “Fever dream? Babes, it’s a masterpiece.
And have you seen him?” He fans himself.
“Keith Krogen is a whole event. Cheekbones carved by the gods, jawline sharp enough to slice my self-esteem in half. And those eyes? Stormy, tortured, sexy like he’s thinking about his tragic past while leaning against a Maserati. ”
I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you haven’t even heard the best part,” he continues, unfazed.
“The man became a billionaire stupidly young. Built half his empire from real estate alone. Like, yes, daddy Krogen is rich, but Keith did his own thing. Brains, money, looks? Girl, the holy trinity.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“If ambition had a face, it would be him. I’d donate a kidney to shake his hand. Maybe both.”
“You’d die, Theo.”
“Happily.” He replies, dramatically.
I laugh, shaking my head as the elevator doors close behind us. “Theo! Don’t let the money fool you. Rich doesn’t mean righteous. Don’t hype them up like they’re gods.”
“Babes,” Theo says, flipping his curls with dramatic flair, “if being rich automatically made you a saint, half this city would be glowing. Let me just admire the shine from a safe distance.”
The elevator dings, and we step into the open, plan office, all glass partitions and sleek furniture.
The space hums with the usual morning chaos.
Phones ringing, keyboards clacking, the low murmur of designers debating color palettes.
I drop my bag at my desk, a small corner station cluttered with sketches and post-it notes, and take a moment to breathe.
Theo’s still chattering about Krogen, but I tune him out, trying to anchor myself in the present.
Before I can even open my laptop, Susan’s voice cuts through the noise.
“Team meeting, now,” she calls from the conference room doorway.
Susan’s in her usual sharp gray suit, her dark hair pulled into a neat bun that screams authority.
But today, there’s a spark in her eyes, a rare excitement that makes everyone sit up a little straighter. “Everyone to the conference room.”
Theo and I exchange a glance, his eyebrows shooting up as we join the others filing in.
Susan stands at the head, a stack of papers neatly arranged in front of her, her posture as commanding as ever.
The room buzzes with anticipation as we settle in.
Theo slides into the chair next to me with a conspiratorial grin.
“Good morning, everyone,” Susan begins, her voice crisp and controlled.
“I’ll keep this brief because we have a lot to cover.
We’ve just landed a project that will redefine this firm’s legacy.
It’s one of the biggest contracts we’ve ever secured.
” She pauses, letting the weight of her words sink in, her gaze sweeping the room.
“I’m thrilled to announce that our firm has been selected to lead the interior design for Keith Krogen’s prestigious Elysian Haven Resort. ”
The room erupts into gasps and excited murmurs. Theo nudges my arm, his grin practically splitting his face. “Told you,” he whispers. “Epic.”
Susan raises a hand, silencing the chatter.
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Krogen’s vision is unparalleled, an island built from nothing, designed to be the ultimate luxury escape.
Our job is to create interiors that match that ambition.
Every detail, from the lobby to the private villas, needs to scream opulence and innovation.
I’m putting together a core team to travel to the island next week to begin on-site work.
Aurelia, Theo, Vanya, Riley, and Steven, you’re on this.
You’ll be working directly with Krogen to bring this vision to life. ”
Vanya claps her hands, her bangles jingling, and Steven pumps a fist, his usual stoic demeanor cracking with excitement.
Riley seems like she knew she was bound to get chosen.
Theo leans over again, his voice a stage whisper.
“We’re going to an island, Aurelia. With Keith Krogen. This is the dream.”
The rest of the team is buzzing, their energy infectious. Ideas are already flying. Susan fields questions with her usual efficiency, outlining timelines and expectations. Everyone seems thrilled, riding the high of landing such a massive project.
But me? I’m frozen in my chair, a strange unease twisting in my gut.
I should be ecstatic. This is the kind of break designers dream of, the kind of project that could make my career.
Yet something feels wrong, like a shadow lingering at the edge of my vision.
Those hands from my nightmare, the ones that tried to drag me down, feel closer than ever.
I try to shake it off, to focus on Susan’s voice, but the feeling won’t leave.
Elysian Haven. Keith Krogen. It’s all too much, too fast, and I can’t help but wonder what I’m walking into.