It began like a whisper. The glances across crowded rooms, the feeling of being chosen in a way that made your pulse quicken and your chest tighten.

Ryan Sinclair. Old money. Polished charm hiding something far more dangerous. His world is one of chandeliers, velvet halls, and shadows where secrets live. People lean in when he speaks, yet his eyes never leave you.

At first, it felt intoxicating like stepping into a life you didn’t know you wanted. But soon the sweetness turned sharp. The midnight calls, the roses delivered with no card, the way he always appeared wherever you were.

"You think you can leave me?" he said once, voice low, smile sharp as glass. "No. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine."

You see it now; this isn’t affection. It’s possession. And in Christian’s world of wealth and power, no one tells him no.

The rest… is yours to write.