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Bound by Obsession

Bound by Obsession

Romance
last updateLast Updated : 2026-06-23
By:  Mirai YumeUpdated just now
Language: English
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Synopsis

Fast-Paced Plot

First-Person POV

Girl Power

CEO

Goodgirl

Hero/Heroin

Flash Marriage

Forbidden Love

Contract Marriage

One contract. Two broken hearts. Zero chance of walking away. My life shattered in a single night. Betrayed by my fiancé, drowning in my family's debt, with nowhere left to turn. Then he appeared. Damien Cross. Billionaire. Bastard. The most dangerous man I've ever met. His offer was simple, marry me for one year. Save your family. Ask no questions. I should have said no. Should have seen the trap. But desperation makes you reckless, and I signed my name next to his at 3am in a Vegas chapel, our hands shaking with rage and champagne. The rules were clear: Separate bedrooms, No feelings, When the contract ends, we walk away But... We broke every single one. Now I'm trapped in his world of glass towers and cruel games, where every touch is a weapon and every kiss is a war. He looks at me like I'm his to own, like he'd burn down the world to keep me. I hate him. I crave him. I'm addicted to the chaos we create. But contracts expire. Lies unravel. And when I discover the devastating truth about why he really married me, I'll have to choose, walk away with my heart intact—or stay and let his obsession consume us both. He warned me not to fall in love with him. So, he should have warned himself.

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27 Chapters
The Night Everything Burned
The champagne flute smashed against the marble floor, crystal shattering just like my perfectly groomed existence."Isla, baby, just listen...""Don't." My voice was strangled, barely human. “You will not.”Marcus was in the vestibule in the coatroom, staring at me, his bow tie undone, lipstick on his collar like a fucking cliché. Behind him, shivering in her tiny dress, was Vanessa. My cousin. My cousin.Beyond the door, the engagement celebration roared its way into oblivion, two hundred guests toasting a wedding that would never be, all unaware of this explosion in here, right there in this cramped little cage.“It didn’t mean anything,” Marcus said, and there was a defiance in that sentence that almost made me laugh. Nearly. “We were drunk, it was an accident.”"How long?"Silence."HOW LONG?" A scream of mine bounced off the confines of the walls.Vanessa flinched. "Six months," she whispered.Six months. Half a year of lies. Half a year of me planning a wedding, picking out flow
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Welcome To Hell
He pressed in closer and I smelled him, cedar wood and something deeper, a fragrance that was more expensive. "I need a wife. You need money. We can help each other."I laughed. Actually laughed. "That's your line? That's what you're going with?""It's not a line. It's a business proposition." He retrieved a card, and pushed it across the bar. Damien Cross, CEO, Cross Industries. "You're Isla Monroe. Your father is the owner of Monroe Textiles... was, I mean to say. It's hemorrhaging money. Filing for bankruptcy."Ice flooded my veins. "How do you—""I know everything about everyone I do business with. And I want to do business with you.""I don't understand.""Marry me," he said simply. "One year. A contract. I pay off your father’s debts, I cover his medical bills, I save the company. In exchange, you are the dutiful wife. No feelings. No complications. The year winds up, and we’re divorced. You walk out with enough money to begin anew and both of us get what we want."Sophie made a
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The Morning After
I awoke in regret with some fancy sheets.For one glorious moment, I didn’t think about it. And then it all came back, Marcus, my father, the bar, the plane, the chapel with its Elvis kitschy and the judge who had stared at us like we were idiots.My marriage certificate on the bedside with my new name: Isla Cross.I was going to be sick.The hotel suite was obscenely luxurious, floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the strip, furniture that I guessed per item cost more than any of my tuition bills, and a wall-length bed (no joke, was probably as big as my previous apartment). I was in it by myself, the previous day’s rumpled dress still on me, my makeup all over the silk pillowcase.Classy, Isla. Real classy.I had 17 missed calls on my phone. I took no heed of them and staggered to the bathroom, where I had the face of someone who had made catastrophically poor choices, twirled black mascara eyes, hair like a bird’s nest and an expression that shouted. What on earth have I done?The
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It Was All Fake
The plane hit turbulence. Or maybe that was because every inch of me had responded to what his words had implied."I'd rather die," I said."Noted." But his eyes told me he didn’t believe it. "Moving on. Pages twenty-one through thirty cover business matters. You are not entitled to my business and I have no interest in yours if you start one. Clean financial separation.""That divorce occupies pages thirty-one through forty, '' Lucas says gently. “How it will be dealt with, public relations management, division of assets accumulated during marriage, which is essentially none since everything is separate.”"And pages forty-one through forty-seven?" I asked.Damien's expression turned to stone. "Non-disclosure agreement. What goes on in this marriage, stays in this marriage. You don't write a tell-all. You don’t sell stories to the tabloids. You never breathe a word to anyone about what our current relationship is, and I mean never, for the rest of your life, or you lose everything and
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The First Morning
I didn't sleep.How could I, when my whole life had been torn apart and reassembled in forty-eight hours? I sprawled across that immense bed, in that disinfected-beautiful room, and stared up at the ceiling until most of the black were gray were pinks as ribbons to gold over Manhattan.Mrs. Cross.It was a name that wore like a costume. As if I were playing dress-up in someone else’s life.My phone, thankfully, had finally died around 3 a.m. Before then, it was just a constant stream of notifications. All of it only congratulations from people who barely knew me, old friends I hadn’t talked to in years suddenly reaching out to ask how I’d been doing for so long and 17 more missed calls from my mom.The last message I’d read was one from Sophie: I’m here when you want to talk. No judgment. Just bring wine. Like, a lot of wine.I gave up trying to sleep and stumbled into the bathroom at 6:47am. The tub was obscene, you could easily fit three people in there, and it had jets and a view o
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Father's Advice
I was dressed in one of the designer dresses Simone had left. The color is navy blue, simple but elegant, with heels that my feet already throbbed in. I had my hair down. I was wearing makeup, but not much. I looked like Isla Cross.I felt like an imposter.Damien stood in the elevator scrolling through his phone. He looked up as I came over and something flickered in his eyes, before he hid it."Better," was all he said.The ride down in the elevator was silent. The lobby was not.Photographers were already camped out at the doors, some dozen of them with cameras poised. I went feral at the sight of them through the glass doors.“They are always in there now,” Damien said softly. "You can get used to it.""I can't."His hand closed around mine. The touch was warm, strong, reassuring. "Yes, you can. Head up, smile a little, do not look her in the eye. Stay close to me.""Damien.""Trust me." His fingers tightened around mine. "For the next 30 seconds, trust me."There was a roar as th
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Things Of My Own
My father stared at me for a long time, then he nodded. "He seems like a good man. Cold, but good. And the way he gazed at you when you weren’t watching...""How did he look at me?"“Like you were something he hadn’t solved yet.” My father smiled slightly. “And as if he wanted to discover it as much as anything.”My heart did something complicated in its cage. "You're imagining things.""Maybe. Or maybe you're both lying to yourselves more than you’re lying to everyone else."***Damien was on his cell phone for the entire time we drove home, talking about one-sided business transactions that went over my head. I sat, staring out the window while the city raced by in a blur and my father’s words echoed.You're both lying to yourselves.No. I wasn't lying to myself. I knew precisely what this was — a transaction. A year of my life for the life of my family. Nothing more.And just because my body reacted every time Damien touched me, that didn't matter.The safety I’d felt in his arms t
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A Dangerous Nearness
The dinner was punctual at seven.For the past hour, I’d been in my new studio, unpacking art supplies like they were all treasure and avoiding thinking about how Damien Cross had just handed me something no one else ever had — a place to be myself.Not thinking about what that meant.Just not thinking of him at all.I failed spectacularly.When I got out of the studio, Lucas was in the kitchen unpacking enough food to feed an army. He glanced up as I came in, and there was a real smile on his face."Mrs. Cross. Or, as I like to call it, artist in residence?”“Isla,” I corrected, leaning on the counter. "And how did you already know about the studio?""Damien texted from the gallery. Told me to clear his afternoon schedule, that he had to ‘take care of something personal.’" Lucas produced containers of Thai food, and my stomach rumbled at the smell. "I have worked for him for five years, and I've never seen him clear his schedule around anything personal. So yeah, I'm curious.""He bo
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Rules We Pretend To Keep
I answered the phone. "Hey, Soph.""Finally! I've been trying to get in touch with you all day. Are you okay? How’s married life in your billionaire tower?"It's..." I gazed around my empty kitchen, half-eaten dinner on the table and two wine glasses still lurking a little too close together. "Complicated.""Complicated good or complicated bad?""I don't know yet.""Then you’d better come up with a plan pretty quickly, babe, because TMZ just ran pictures of you and Damien leaving the hospital earlier today. And let me tell you, the sexual tension is visible from space."My stomach dropped. "What?"“Wait, I’m texting you the link.”I received her text on my phone. I opened it up, and there we were, riding in the back of the car, his hand on my face, eyes closed tight, bodies pushed together. It looked intimate. It looked real.It appeared as if we were a couple in love.“That was him talking me down from a panic attack,” I said."Uh huh. And that’s why he is staring at you like you’re
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Meeting The Wolves
The silence stretched so long that I thought he had hung up. Then, “You make me feel things I’d forgotten I could feel. I don’t know if that’s happiness or torture.”My heart stuttered. "Damien.""I have to go. Meeting in five. Lucas will call you soon."Before I could answer, he disconnected.I looked at the dress, the note, my phone with his name on it."You make me feel things I’d forgotten I could feel. "We were here to pretend. Performing. Playing parts.So why did everything he said feel devastatingly real?***It was the kind of restaurant where they don't list prices on the menu because if you have to ask, you can't afford it.I sat alone at a table by the window, wearing a beige pantsuit Lucas had sent me with a note:"The first rule of war: dress like you've already won. -L"I was going to war with my mother-in-law before I could even survive this week-old marriage.Perfect.Vivienne Cross arrived on time—yes, of course—smelling of Chanel No. 5 and a barely concealed sense
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