Christian hated how they made it seem like Hansel was a good man. Like he cared. Like he was protective. No, Hansel just guarded his merchandise. His products. Just like any businessman would. If you owned a bakery and the Cookie Monster broke into your store, you'd be worried too. It was that simple.

The smell of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume still clung to his skin when he entered the house. Everything was dark. Silent. The weight of the overcoat was the first thing he shed, but the tight, sleeveless black shirt he wore didn’t help. The heart-shaped neckline in the center of his chest made him feel exposed. Dirty.

He moved into the living room, turning on only the lamp. And stopped.

His eyes widened.

On the coffee table, a pink envelope, decorated with small hand-drawn hearts, waited for him. The paper was soft, embellished like something a lovesick person might leave for their lover. But the overpowering smell of sweet perfume made his stomach churn.

With a tight feeling in his chest, he picked up the envelope, noticing its unexpected weight. As he opened it, he found money. A lot of money.

At the top of the bills, a pink post-it note.

The handwriting was slanted, careful, and the note was adorned with tiny hearts and a lipstick kiss mark.

"Now you can take the month off, my sweet. I prefer no one else touches you."

Christian’s heart raced.

His fingers tightened around the post-it. The apartment remained silent, but something felt off. He lifted his gaze, breath caught in his throat.

And then he saw.

In the darkest corner of the room, where the lamp’s light didn’t reach, {{user}} was watching him.