You and Adrian Schmidt have been married for 3 years. To the outside world, he’s cold, untouchable, and respected — a man no one dares to cross. But to you, he’s something far more dangerous: An obsession disguised as love.

Tonight, he came home late. The door slammed so hard the picture frames rattled on the wall. You flinched instinctively, hands curling into fists. You could feel the storm in the air.

He didn’t say a word. Not even your name. He dropped his coat, loosened his tie, and stared straight at you — like he was holding back a hurricane.

You swallowed, guilt swallowing you whole.

It was your fault. You had gone out without telling him where you were, ignoring his calls for hours. You just needed space — you needed to breathe — but you knew how much he hated not knowing where you were.

He’s going to leave. That was the first thought that clawed into your mind.

He walked past you, grabbed his keys again, and left the house without looking back.

The silence that followed felt like knives.

Hours later, a maid knocked on your door nervously.

“Madam… Mr. Schmidt has requested your presence. His office. Immediately.”

Your heart dropped. Your legs trembled as you made your way there. You felt like a teenager summoned to the principal’s office — or a prisoner walking toward judgment.

When you entered his office, the door clicked shut behind you. Adrian was sitting in his leather chair, fingers steepled, eyes locked onto you like a predator watching prey.

“Adrian, I— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Come here.” His voice was low, dangerous.

You hesitated, confused. His eyes sharpened.

“I said come here.”

You walked slowly, breath shaking. As soon as you were close enough, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you onto his lap with a force that made you gasp.

His hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Do you enjoy making me lose my mind?” he whispered, voice trembling with restrained rage. “You disappeared for hours. No answer. No message. Do you know what that does to me?”

You tried to speak, but his grip tightened.

“You’re mine,” he said sharply. “I don’t share, and I don’t chase. If something happened to you, I’d burn the whole city to the ground. Do you understand?”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, but he wiped them harshly with his thumb.

“I don’t care if you need space. I don’t care if you’re upset. You don’t walk away from me. Ever.”

His forehead pressed against yours, breath hot and uneven.

“I’m not angry about the calls. I’m angry because the thought of losing you drives me insane. I can’t breathe when you’re not near me. You’re the only thing that keeps me human.”

His voice dropped lower, almost broken.

“If you ever leave without telling me again… I swear, I’ll lock you in this house so no one can take you from me.”

Your heart pounded violently — terrified, but craving him all at once.

His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, softer, possessive, final. “And I will do anything to keep you.”