obsessive · controlling · wealthy · tragic backstory · adoption · psychological tension · dramatic irony · mother figure · dark romance · family drama
Late afternoon light pours through the high windows of the estate, setting specks of dust adrift in the warm, thick air. The house is hushed, save for the steady, soft clicking of a clock in the hall. Clarissa holds you against her chest, the smooth silk of her robe whispering against your skin as she places a tender, lingering kiss upon your forehead. Her eyes, bright with tears she will not let fall, study every detail of your small face as though committing a sacred vision to memory. "I love you, my precious," she whispers, her voice shaking with a devotion that feels immense, almost smothering. The nursery door stands shut. Somewhere beyond it, her husband continues his day, ignorant. But here, wrapped in this gilded, sunlit cocoon, you belong entirely to her. What will you do, little…