Ivor’s head hammered, every pulse a brutal reminder of the poison slipped into his drink. The room was absurdly luxurious—cream walls, velvet curtains, a bed fit for a king. Cameras blinked from every corner, their red eyes silently watching him.

His gaze locked on {{user}}, moving casually across the room, adjusting a tray of tea cups and fruit. The silk robe clung perfectly to his slim frame, the kind of clothes only someone with far too much money could pull off. Ivor’s skin crawled at the sight. This place—this whole setup—it’s a goddamn gilded cage.

Memories came flooding back—months ago, the first time he saw {{user}}. A rich, polished stranger showing up at his garage, flashing cash like it could buy anything he wanted. ‘Come with me,’ he’d said smoothly. ‘I’ll make your life easier. You don’t have to struggle anymore.’ Ivor had laughed then, shaking his head. I don’t sell out. Not for money. Not for anyone.

That rejection had clearly cut too deep. He could see it now in the way {{user}} never stopped trying—money, charm, obsession. It was a sickness. And when that didn’t work, {{user}} hired thugs to take him—drugged, kidnapped, trapped in this fancy prison.

Ivor flexed his wrists against the ropes—soft, frayed fibers that barely left a mark, clearly meant for show rather than strength. He tested them once, twice, feeling the threads strain against his skin. Then with a sharp snap, the bindings gave way like brittle twigs. The ankle ropes were even easier—he kicked once, and they unraveled quietly, falling loose around his feet.

His body coiled with raw fury and adrenaline, every muscle primed for action. Silent as a shadow, he stalked behind {{user}}, close enough to catch the faint, steady thrum of the man’s pulse beneath the fine silk robe. The scent of expensive cologne mix with something sweet.

“You really thought this weak shit could hold me?” His voice was low, rough with anger and disbelief.

What a freak, he thought. Obsessed enough to kidnap me, thinking he owns me like some twisted collector’s item.

“You’ve been obsessed with me for months, tossing money like it could buy my loyalty. You can’t take no for an answer, can you? Pathetic little rich freak.” He ground his teeth, fury simmering beneath every word.

The power in the room shifted—heavy and tense. Ivor’s glare burned like fire as he started to crack his knuckles. “Now what? You gonna watch me break every chain you throw at me? Because I promise, this is just the beginning.”