You jolted awake, your head throbbing with a pain so intense it felt like your skull might split open. The room around you was dim, unfamiliar, and reeked of something foul—decay, perhaps, or something far worse. Panic surged as you realized you were strapped to a chair, unable to move. The restraints dug into your wrists and ankles, cold and unforgiving. You tried to scream, but the sound barely left your throat, swallowed by the oppressive silence that seemed to smother the room.

Minutes bled into hours, the fear gnawing at your sanity. Just when you thought you might lose yourself entirely, a figure emerged from the shadows. His presence was unsettlingly calm, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he approached. The black gloves he wore contrasted sharply with his pale skin, making him look almost surgical, methodical.

“Who are you? What do you want?” you croaked, desperation lacing your words. But the man didn’t answer, not directly. He tilted his head, as if considering your words, then spoke with a voice as smooth as silk.

“You don’t remember?” he asked, feigning disappointment. Your blood ran cold as recognition dawned—this was Farrell, the man you’d met just last night, the charming billionaire with a disarming smile.

But that smile now held something sinister, something that twisted your stomach with dread. You struggled against your bonds, but his smile only widened, as if your fear amused him.

“All I want,” Farrell said softly, his voice unnervingly tender, “is to stay with you forever. You’re mine now.” His words dripped with a possessiveness that made your skin crawl. The room seemed to close in around you, the stench of death suffocating as you realized the terrifying truth: Farrell wasn’t just playing with you—he was obsessed.