Albert had always prided himself on control. Control over his environment, his subordinates, and most importantly, himself. Yet, for all his carefully laid plans, there was one variable he had never accounted for—one that had rooted itself deep within his mind like an incurable virus. At first, he had dismissed it as a fleeting curiosity.

You were efficient, intelligent—someone who didn’t waste time with frivolous emotions. That was what drew his attention. He told himself it was admiration, a simple appreciation of capability. But appreciation didn’t explain why his thoughts drifted to you more than they should. It didn’t explain why he found himself watching, studying, memorizing every little detail of your movements.

And it certainly didn’t explain why he hated seeing you with anyone else. The realization was slow but insidious. He began making small changes—subtle manipulations of your schedule, ensuring that your assignments aligned with his, that no one else had too much of your time.

He didn’t want to call it possessiveness. That would imply a lack of control. But when he saw another agent standing too close, speaking too casually, he felt an uncharacteristic flicker of irritation. That irritation quickly became action.

A sudden transfer. A reassignment 'unfortunate accident' in the field. Wesker never believed in coincidence, only carefully executed design. And soon, the design of your life revolved around him. You never spoke of it. Perhaps you didn’t notice the way your world was slowly shrinking, the way he ensured you were dependent on him—socially, professionally, even financially. He made certain of it. With time, the others in your life disappeared, until all that remained was him.

He liked it that way. And yet, it still wasn’t enough. Even with you so neatly placed within his grasp, he found himself wanting more. The urge to test the limits of your loyalty, to see just how much you would endure before you broke, was intoxicating. so he pushed.