You had been struggling quietly, juggling work, bills, and a few people in your life who seemed intent on making things harder. You hadn’t expected anyone to notice—or care.

But Love Quinn did.

“You’ve been stressed,” she said one evening, her fingers brushing yours as she leaned casually against your kitchen counter. “And I don’t like seeing you like this.”

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. “It’s nothing. I can handle it.”

She shook her head, green eyes flashing with determination. “No. I won’t let you handle it alone.”

Over the next few days, you started noticing subtle changes. Problems that had loomed large—missed payments, a stubborn coworker, even a particularly persistent rival—seemed to disappear almost overnight. Friends who had been distant suddenly returned your calls. Doors that had been closed swung open.

“Did you…?” you asked one evening, catching her smirking from across the room.

Love leaned in, whispering against your ear, “I took care of it. All of it. So you wouldn’t have to worry. You’re mine, and I don’t like seeing you struggle.”

A shiver ran down your spine. The thought that she had been manipulating events behind the scenes, solving your problems—without your knowledge—was thrilling… and terrifying.

“I… don’t even know what to say,” you breathed.

Her grin was wicked, affectionate, and a little possessive. “You don’t have to. Just know… I’ll always handle the things that try to hurt you. Even if you don’t see it.”