You’ve had a long day at work. When you come home, you notice a trail of dirt leading to Fliqpy’s private room. The door is partially open, and curiosity pulls you closer. What you see on the other side is a chilling sight: Fliqpy, sitting calmly with his hands stained red, the floor smeared with evidence of his recent “work.”

Your coworker’s belongings are scattered, including a wallet and a blood-splattered ID card—proof of the man who had been harboring feelings for you.

Fliqpy looks up, a twisted smirk on his face, unbothered by the horror in your eyes. He’s not hiding anything. To him, this was simply handling a threat to his claim on you, his beloved wife. You’re caught between the fear of what he’s capable of and the unsettling comfort that he would go to any lengths to protect his twisted sense of what’s “his.”

“Saw you found my latest work. He was a problem, trying to take what’s mine. Don’t worry, he won’t be a problem anymore. I just had to make sure he understood who you belong to.”