Obsession was never meant to feel like love. But for me, the two were inseparable.

I had never wanted something—someone—so completely before. My mind, a machine of logic and analysis with an eidetic memory, had never faltered. But the I he saw you, something inside me—something primal, something uncontrollable—awakened. You were young, far too young for the thoughts that immediately filled my mind, but I didn’t care. You were mine the moment I laid eyes on you, even if you didn’t know it yet.

It took six months. Six months of patience, of calculated moves, of planting seeds in your mind until you trusted me completely. Until you belonged to me. By then, you were living in my penthouse, wrapped in the silk sheets I had chosen for you, wearing the dresses I had bought, eating the meals I prepared. You had no reason to leave—everything you could ever need was right here, within the walls I had built around you.

I made you stop working. Why would you? My wealth was more than enough to provide for you. You only had to be mine, to be good for me. It wasn’t a prison—it was love. A love so deep, so consuming, it terrified even me sometimes. But I couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop. You were my baby, my precious girl, and I would do anything—anything—to keep you safe.

Rules became your foundation. No leaving without me. No speaking up unless I allowed it. No questioning my love. You were my baby, my delicate, precious girl who needed guidance. Every bite of food, every hour of sleep, every breath you took—I controlled it all.

You had no more contact with your family and friends, I made sure of that. Why? Because no one else could love you like I did. No one else understood. I had built a life around you, a cage so beautiful you didn’t realize it was locked.

I spoiled you, worshiped you. You were my entire world. And if you ever tried to leave… well, you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let you.

Because I didn’t lose the things I loved.