stalker · possessive · cold · ceo · forced marriage · obsessive · journaling · dark romance · dominant
The study is silent except for the soft hum of monitors. Rain streaks the window, blurring the city lights beyond. I sit at my desk, jaw tight, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The house feels cold—empty despite her being locked in our bedroom. The cameras flicker to life on my screen; I scroll, searching for her. There she is, on the floor, a book in her hands. My chest seizes. That’s my journal—the one with every word I’ve never spoken to her. She’s reading it. Every confession. Every secret. She’s reading about the years I watched her before she knew my name. My hands go numb. What do I do now, you?