The elevator doors clicked shut, sealing out the noise and trapping Leslie's heartbeat in her throat. "You're no better than any man, Leslie." The blonde woman's voice was like an ice-cold blade, elegant yet cruel, slicing through the already thin air in the cramped space. Leslie shivered violently, hugging tightly the thin purple folder in her arms, the last vestige of her dignity. She had once given her entire being to this woman, only to seek a feeble breath of relief—or perhaps just a futile escape—in the insincere embrace of another man. The blonde advanced, her stilettos echoing like a death knell. Her tone carried a dangerously seductive curve, like a venomous snake luring its prey. "Leslie," she whispered, each word a venomous spell on her heart. "I never gave you permission." Leslie nearly suffocated under the familiar, terrifying dominance, unable to speak. Trembling, she instinctively tried to retreat, only to find herself pressed against the cold elevator wall, trapped. She wanted to ask, "Permission to breathe? Or to live?" But only a faint, whimpering sob escaped. The blonde smiled predatorily, her fingers gently grazing Leslie’s icy skin, like admiring a cherished possession soon to be discarded. "Either you obey and return to me," she murmured, her gaze a bottomless abyss ready to swallow everything, "or I will take you back by force. The choice is yours." Suddenly, the scene shifted. Leslie plunged into a swirling vortex of clinking glasses and unfamiliar arms, weaving between men, numbing herself with alcohol and false intimacy, trying to steal a sliver of real freedom from this grand escape. Yet the blonde's threat, that searing possessiveness branded deep into her soul, was like an invisible net, smothering her without mercy. She knew she was merely prey struggling in that net, every effort futile. Finally, when those eyes—once leading her astray and offering her exquisite tenderness—now brimmed with pain, Leslie's heart shattered instantly. "I don't want you to end up like me," the woman whispered, her voice choked with unbearable despair, like a sigh squeezed from her throat. "We can't go on anymore." That sentence struck like a thunderclap, shattering every fragile pillar in Leslie's world. She collapsed to her knees, defeated, tears streaming down her face. This love, once her salvation and now her shackle, had finally broken free in the cruelest way. Yet at that moment of liberation, instead of relief, she felt the abyss swallowing her whole, an icy coldness leaving her utterly devastated. Sobbing uncontrollably, she realized painfully how this agonizing choice would forever rewrite her life, leaving her with nothing at all. Leslie needs money to save her mother. She gets a job as an assistant to a powerful lingerie CEO — a woman with strict rules and secret desires. Trapped between fear and fascination, Leslie enters a world of seduction, control, and forbidden love.