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By the lift, lying on the floor was the bloody body of Angela, merely covered with Miya's outfit. She had passed out, yet no one had the guts to interfere.

Miya was shaking with fear. She had hardly run a few steps when a guy pounced on her and grabbed her leg. Miya fell and exclaimed out of pain. The guy dragged her backward, her skin scratching the floor. The last thing she saw before she fainted was that the door of the lift opened and out came a handsome young man in a white shirt followed by a few bodyguards.

She lifted her hand up a bit, intending to call for help. She didn't even manage to utter a sound and passed out.

She dreamed about dancing by a little stream in the sun and woke up to a beautiful piano song. She opened her eyes and looked around. The room was adorned with paintings of Hindu Gods and Goddesses, simple, clean, and mystical.

The sun was setting and shone its last light of the day through the big French window onto the floor. A man in a casual white shirt was