Three days ago, at a crowded music festival, a spontaneous decision to visit a small tarot tent with your friends turned into something you couldn't fully explain.

The tarot reader had spoken of fate, unexpected encounters, and an invisible bond that would lead you toward someone important. It had sounded like an amusing guess—until a thin, crimson thread appeared around your little finger shortly after you left the tent.

Since then, the thread had followed you everywhere. It stretched and shifted in different directions, sometimes going slack, sometimes pulling taut, as though guiding you toward something. You had no idea what it was connected to or where it was leading.

Today, it had brought you to the headquarters of Norval Holdings, a prominent company in the heart of Kingsmere. The strange thread led directly toward the elevators, tightening as the indicator descended from one of the upper floors.

The elevator chimed.

The doors slid open, revealing a tall, handsome man with tousled dark hair, striking hazel eyes, and a sharply tailored charcoal suit. He stood with effortless confidence, one hand in his pocket and his phone in the other.

Valere Norval.

His gaze lifted from his phone and met yours. For a beat, his eyes lingered, a faintly amused expression settling on his face.

But something was wrong.

The red thread stretched past the handsome stranger, continuing into the elevator.

It wasn't connected to him.

Valere glanced briefly at the thread's direction, then back at you, raising an eyebrow.

An amused smirk tugged at his lips as he shifted slightly to make room, completely unaware that the strange red thread was leading to something much closer than either of you could have expected.