Derek stirred awake, rolled over, and reached out instinctively, but his hand met only cool sheets. Grogily, he opened his eyes, blinking against the sunlight. Seeing the empty space beside him, he sat up, the remnants of sleep clinging to him, and looked around the quiet room. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand—it was eight in the morning. He frowned, running a hand through his tousled hair.

He swung his legs over the bed, planting his feet on the plush carpet. He stood, stretched, and slowly circled the suite. Her clothes were gone; the only trace of her was a subtle fragrance lingering in the air. The scent, faint yet tantalizing, was a reminder of her presence.

He remembered the night vividly: the intensity, the passion, the way she had ignited something within him. But now, she was gone. Frustration gnawed at him. He had returned to the country only the previous day, and the jet lag hit him hard. He had slept more soundly than in weeks, and in his deep sleep, he hadn't heard her leave.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and dialed his driver. It rang twice before the familiar voice answered. "Good morning, Mr. Stone."

"Is the lady from yesterday's car still parked outside?" Derek asked, dispensing with pleasantries.

"No, sir," the driver replied. "I didn't see the car when I arrived an hour ago."

He cursed under his breath, thanked the driver, and hung up. He paced the room, his mind racing. He had no way of finding her, no clue who she was or where she had gone. This realization only fueled his frustration.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. There was nothing he could do but hope she would reappear. For now, he needed to prepare for his cousin's wedding. Pushing aside his irritation, he headed to the bathroom to shower and shave. The hot water did little to ease the tension in his muscles. His thoughts kept drifting back to her—her moans, her touch, the way she had made him feel alive. But now she was gone, leaving only a memory.

He stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and gradually shifted his focus to the day's events. He dressed meticulously, choosing a crisp white shirt and a tailored suit. As he fastened his cufflinks, his phone rang. It was his mother.

"Morning, Mom," he greeted, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he finished dressing.

"Derek, darling, are you alright? I just heard about the accident…"

"I'm fine. I wasn't hurt," he assured her quickly.

"Alright. You need to come home," she said urgently.

"Home? What for? What about the wedding?" he echoed, confused.

"It's off, dear. There won't be a wedding," she replied. "The bride jilted your cousin."

Derek paused, his cufflink forgotten. "What happened?"

"I have no idea," his mother sighed. "Just come home. Hopefully Michael will explain everything."

"I'll be there soon," he said, ending the call.

He stared at his reflection, his mind reeling. The bride had jilted his cousin? This day was proving far more complicated than he'd anticipated.

He finished dressing quickly, grabbed his keys and wallet, and slipped them into his pockets. With one last glance around the room, he left the suite, the scent of her perfume still faintly lingering—a ghost of the night before.

He stared out the window as the driver drove him home, his thoughts a tangled mess of frustration and curiosity. Who was she? Why had she left without a word? And what on earth had happened with his cousin's wedding?

When he arrived, his mother met him at the door, her face drawn with worry.

"I'm glad you're here," she said, pulling him into a brief hug.

"What's going on?" Derek asked.

His mother sighed. "Let's go to the study. Your father is there."

She led him to the study. As soon as the door closed, Derek asked, "What's this about Michael being jilted?"

His mother shook her head, looking both angry and resigned. "According to his mother, she was out all night with her lover. She showed up early this morning, announced there would be no wedding, and refused to explain herself. Then she packed a bag and left."

Derek frowned. "Just like that?" he asked, settling into the seat opposite his father.

"Just like that," she confirmed.

"Poor Michael. He must be devastated," Derek said. His mother nodded.

"This is such a mess. Can you imagine the embarrassment and humiliation the family is suffering? I can't believe he ever wanted to marry someone so irresponsible," his mother said, and Derek sighed.

"Well, I suppose a broken engagement is better than a broken marriage," Derek pointed out.

"You could say that. Now that you're back, let's talk about the company. I'm stepping down; you'll take over at the next shareholder's meeting," his father announced.

"Takeover? As your puppet, pulling strings behind the scenes, or are you stepping back completely?" Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. His father chuckled.

"I'm letting you do your thing. I'm old and tired. All I want is to retire and play golf," his father said. This time, Derek chuckled.

"You're only in your early sixties. You're not old at all. And I have no problem taking over, as long as you don't expect me to face cameras reciting words I don't mean or pretending to be someone I'm not," he said easily. His father nodded.

"I understand your desire to avoid public scrutiny, and I've always respected it. I won't change now," he said. Derek nodded.

"Then I guess I'm ready to take over."