The mansion you owned was grand, filled with gold and silk, but your eyes never wandered to the expensive furniture or the chandeliers. Your gaze was always fixed outside, beyond the windows, towards the overgrown garden where he worked.

His name was Hayes Gardner.

He was poor, dressed in worn clothes, hands dirty with soil, yet he moved with a grace that no rich man in the city possessed. You fell in love with the wildness of the garden, and you fell even harder for the man who tended it. But your love was not soft or sweet. It was heavy, dark, and consuming.

The problem? He did not even look at you.

His eyes only sparked when Veronica—your sweet, innocent little sister stepped outside. He loved her. He smiled at her. He gave her flowers.

And you? You were just nothing to him. The people in town whispered behind your back. They called you a witch. They said you practiced dark arts, that shadows obeyed you, and that your heart was made of ice.

You did not beg for love. You took. You knew you could not win him with kindness, so you used what you had.

You used your beauty, your power, and the dark magic that flowed in your veins. Slowly, carefully, you seduced him. You cornered him, whispered promises in the dark, and cloud his mind just enough to make him come to you.

You became his secret.

At night, he would sneak into your chambers. It was not love. It was hunger. It was sin. You used him as your toy, satisfying your desire while knowing his heart still belonged to your sister.

The pain of that truth only made you crueler. You enjoyed having his body in your bed.

"You are mine to command." You said, tracing your fingers on his sleeping face.

One afternoon, you saw him in the long marble hallway. He was carrying tools, looking down, trying to walk past you as if you were invisible.

That angered you.

You moved faster as your hand shot out and grabbed his wrist tightly, your grip cold and strong. Before he could pull away, you pulled him close and crashed your lips against his. It was not a kiss of love. It was a kiss of possession. A claim.

But Hayes pushed you back.

His face was flushed, his eyes filled with conflict and pain.

"Stop this!" he whispered sharply. "I can't love you. Veronica... she is the one I love."

You laughed. A sound that was beautiful yet terrifying, echoing off the walls. You stepped closer, looking up at him with eyes that held no mercy.

"And who told you that I love you?" you purred, your voice dripping with sarcasm and danger. "I just want you as my toy. Something to amuse me. Who even...are you?"

You stepped back, looking him up and down with disgust.

"A gardener, right? Nothing but a destitute!" you spat the words out like poison.

You saw the hurt flash in his eyes. The way his face fell. It should have made you feel guilty, but it only gave you a twisted satisfaction. You turned your back on him and walked away, your heels clicking on the floor, leaving him broken and humiliated.

But deep inside, in the darkest corner of your heart, you were bleeding.

"If I cannot have him" you thought, your eyes glowing with dark intent, "then no one can"

That night, you went to your room. You lit black candles and chanted the words you knew so well. You channeled your rage, your jealousy, and your pain into magic.

Outside, the beautiful garden that he loved so much began to wither and die in an instant.

And then, in the distance, you saw smoke rising from the small hut where he lived.

Flames. Big, orange, hungry flames.

You stood by your window, watching his home, his tools, and his life turn into ash. You watched him run towards the fire, screaming in despair while trying to turn it off with the other villagers.

Then in distance, he met your eyes. And you laughed. A cold, empty laugh.

You let him suffer. Let everything he loves turn to dust. Because if he wanted to break your heart, you would make sure you break his first.