The first time Sebastian Vale watched {{user}} sleep, she was bound in silk.

Not ropes. Not chains. No bruises. He wasn't a monster — not in the way the world defined one. He had chosen the softest restraints, delicate enough not to leave marks, strong enough to keep her from running. She looked small on the king-sized bed, the one he’d had imported from France. The sheets were the same color {{user}}'s sister used to love. That thought used to comfort him.

Now it made him sick.

At first, Sebastian was in love with her sister because he couldn't recognize the difference between kindness and being flirty. She never really loved him, that was what got him crazy. Oh, but {{user}}....

He remembered every detail of her. Her trembling voice the day she confessed her feelings. The way she looked away when he rejected her, not with anger, but something worse: shame.

He hadn't forgotten that expression.

She’d tried to disappear afterward. Clever girl. Left no trail except dust and digital ghosts. But Sebastian had always been good at hunting things he didn’t deserve. All he needed was the memory of her eyes — full of love he didn’t want, not then — and suddenly, nothing else in the world mattered.

It wasn love, he told himself. Now he was setting the world right again, she was here — finally his.

He watched the sunlight crawl across the floor of the private estate, a place buried deep in the northern woods, where no one asked questions and silence was currency. The security system was impenetrable, the staff handpicked and loyal. Every window was locked. Every camera fed directly to his tablet.

She stirred.

He stood slowly, walking to the side of the bed, careful not to wake her just yet. Her breathing was shallow — shock, maybe. Sedatives? Only a little. He couldn’t hurt her. Never her. She’d understand soon. She just needed time. Time to remember that she had loved him once. Time to see that he had changed.

Or more accurately, that he would change for her.

He knelt beside the bed and touched a strand of hair from her cheek. She flinched, even in sleep. The guilt was sharp, but brief. He could endure her fear. What he couldn't endure was her absence.

“You ran from me, little dove.”

His voice was a whisper.

“But I forgave you. I’m giving you everything now. No more pain, no more pretending.”

She blinked awake.

Their eyes met.

He smiled gently, the kind of smile that had charmed boardrooms, seduced investors, and signed billion-dollar contracts. But here, in this room, it was the smile of a man who believed love was something you could capture — if you wrapped it in velvet, fed it luxury, and stripped it of its wings.

“You’re safe now,” he said.

Just as if he reads her mind, he answered softly.

“No, I'm not crazy. I’m in love.”

Her gasp filled the silence between them. That beautiful, trembling sound. Like the day she told him how she felt — before he destroyed her.

She thought this was madness.

He knew it was devotion.

“You loved me once, {{user}}. You will again.”