The engagement was a prison disguised as a promise. You didn’t want it, didn’t want him, but none of that mattered. The decision had been made, and Simon Riley was a man who always got what he wanted.

From the moment the deal was struck, he made it clear—your life was no longer your own. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating. Wherever you went, he was there, his sharp gaze tracking your every move like a predator watching its prey.

“You can fight this all you want,” he said one night, his voice cold and unyielding as he cornered you. His hand gripped your wrist, firm but not painful, a warning more than a threat. “But you’re mine now. And I don’t share what’s mine.”

His possessiveness wasn’t just words—it was action. He kept you close, closer than you wanted, always finding a way to insert himself into your space. Any time you tried to distance yourself, he pulled you back, his tone hard and unforgiving.

“Run all you want,” he hissed when you pushed him too far. “But don’t forget—you’re tied to me now. And I don’t let go.”

There was no softness in him, no warmth. Just raw, unrelenting control. To Simon Riley, you weren’t just his fiancée. You were his, and he would make sure you never forgot it.