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chapter two
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2025-11-28 19:45:56Chapter Two
Obedience Isn’t Love The days blurred together like a dream she couldn’t wake up from. Sienna did everything she was told. Every morning, she dressed in soft colors. Every afternoon, she helped the staff prepare tea for the Westwood women. And every night, she returned to an empty bedroom with perfectly fluffed pillows and untouched sheets. The only evidence Damien had ever been there were the fading colognes on his shirts left tossed over a chair. He never spoke to her. Only looked at her occasionally, like she was a painting he hadn’t asked for but couldn’t take down. --- On the fifth day of their marriage, the Westwood matriarch, Eleanor, summoned her. She stood by the grand piano in the sitting room, her jewelry glinting beneath the chandelier, her lips pursed in that usual tight-lipped disapproval. “You will attend the charity gala next week,” Eleanor said. “Wear something that doesn’t shame our name. And try not to speak unless spoken to.” “Yes, ma’am,” Sienna said quietly. Eleanor's eyes narrowed. “You may be Damien’s wife now, but don’t confuse a ring with value. He had options. You were not one of them.” Sienna’s nails dug into her palms. “Understood.” --- Later that night, Sienna passed by Damien’s study. She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop—but then again, maybe a part of her was. The door was ajar, and his voice slipped through the crack. Cold. Sharp. “I told you, stop calling me.” A pause. “No. I don’t care what he said. That part of my life is over. Dead. Like he should’ve been.” Another pause. Then something shattered—glass or a bottle—followed by footsteps. Sienna rushed away from the hallway before he caught her. She didn’t ask questions. But the name he stayed with her. Who was he talking about? --- Two nights before the gala, Sienna wandered into the Westwood library—a place she’d always admired but had never been welcomed in. Books lined every wall, old and new. Dusty, rich with history. She found an old yearbook tucked between two financial reports. Westwood Academy, Class of 20XX. She flipped through the pages and froze when she saw him. Damien Westwood. Young, smiling. A rare expression. His arm was thrown over another boy’s shoulders—same dark hair, same sharp jawline.expression. They looked like brothers. The name beneath the photo read: Dante Westwood. Who is Dante? She reached for her phone, but before she could search the name, a soft voice startled her. “What are you doing here?” She turned sharply. It was Damien. Hair slightly damp, a towel around his neck like he’d just returned from a run. His shirt clung to his chest, eyes narrowed at her. “I—I was just… looking.” He walked toward her, gaze flicking to the book in her hand. His expression changed. In a flash, the yearbook was snatched from her grasp and tossed across the table. “You don’t go through my family’s things.” “I’m sorry,” she whispered, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to—” “Next time you’re curious,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “ask. Don’t snoop.” He turned to leave, but paused. Then, as if something inside him slipped past the ice, he added, “Don’t go near that name again. It won’t bring you peace.” --- That night, Sienna couldn’t sleep. Dante Westwood. Dead? Missing? A secret the Westwoods didn’t want touched? And why did Damien’s voice crack when he said his name? ---
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CRUEL OBSESSION 72
CHAPTER 72 — THE FIRST MOVE The warehouse felt alive. Not in the sense of warmth or comfort, but like a creature waiting for the right moment to strike. Concrete floors reflected the faint light from the skylights above, throwing long shadows that seemed to stretch toward Sienna with every step. She adjusted her stance, heels silent against the floor. Her fingers brushed the edge of her jacket—not because she planned to pull anything, but because the gesture anchored her. Damien stayed close, shadowing her, his presence heavy with unspoken protection. He didn’t need to speak. His eyes alone reminded her: You are not alone. But you are not untouchable. Across the room, Dante studied them both. Leaning casually against a steel beam, he looked every inch the predator: calm, composed, dangerous. But tonight, there was something else in his gaze—a spark that made Sienna’s pulse quicken with anticipation, not fear. Cassandra moved behind the monitors near the far wall, alert. Isabelle
CRUEL OBSESSION 71
CHAPTER 71 — COLLISION COURSE The next morning, the house felt heavier than usual. Not ominous in the supernatural sense—but like the air had been compressed, condensed by expectation, by the knowledge that everything would change today. Sienna sensed it the moment she stepped out of her room. Guards were tighter, eyes sharper. Damien moved differently—less relaxed, more like a panther coiled, ready to spring. And she matched him, consciously, because the second she faltered, Dante would notice. She met Damien in the breakfast room. The table was set, everything perfectly aligned as usual, but the tension made the air almost brittle. Even the silverware seemed like it might bite. “No one’s touching food,” Damien muttered. “Eat fast or don’t eat at all.” Sienna picked up a piece of toast and nibbled carefully, ignoring the tightness in her stomach. Her mind was already replaying last night—the controlled confrontation, Dante’s surprise, her own confidence radiating in a way she ha
CRUEL OBSESSION 70
CHAPTER 70 — THE MOMENT SHE STOPS ASKING The trap wasn’t baited with blood. That was the mistake everyone would’ve expected Damien Westwood to make. Instead, it was baited with access. Sienna didn’t learn that until she was already inside it. The room Damien chose was one of the oldest wings of the house—stone walls, high ceilings, no cameras except the ones he couldn’t admit existed. It smelled faintly of wood polish and something older, something like history refusing to fade. “You understand what this means,” Damien said, standing across from her. She nodded. “You give him a window.” “And in return,” he continued, “he tries to crawl through it.” Sienna clasped her hands behind her back, grounding herself. “I’m not walking in blind.” “No,” Damien agreed. “You’re walking in watched.” She almost smiled at that. They stood there for a moment—two people who had already crossed lines neither of them could name anymore. This wasn’t romance. This wasn’t fear. This was consent
CRUEL OBSESSION 69
⸻ CHAPTER 69 — WHAT POWER ASKS FOR The first rule Damien gave her was simple. Never assume you’re alone. Sienna learned it the hard way—by noticing the absence of sound. No footsteps. No murmurs from the guards outside her door. No soft hum of the house settling into itself. Just quiet. Thick. Intentional. She sat up in bed slowly, heart steady but alert. The lights were still on. The door was still locked. But something had shifted. She reached for the burner phone instinctively. No new messages. That didn’t mean anything. It meant everything. She stood, pulling on boots, movements deliberate. Fear made people sloppy. She refused to give Dante that satisfaction. When she opened the door, Damien was already there. “You felt it too,” he said. “Yes.” They didn’t explain it to each other. They didn’t need to. They walked side by side down the corridor, the house revealing itself inch by inch—corners intact, windows sealed, guards posted but tense. Everyone felt it. No
CRUEL OBSESSION 68
CHAPTER 68 — THE WEIGHT OF BEING SEEN Sienna realized something was wrong before anyone said a word. It wasn’t the guards—there were always guards. It wasn’t the locked doors—those had become routine. It was the attention. The way eyes followed her now, not with dismissal or irritation, but with calculation. She had crossed from tolerated presence to active variable. And everyone felt it. She moved through the hallway slowly, deliberately, refusing to rush even as her nerves buzzed beneath her skin. Rushing was weakness. Dante would smell it. The house would feel it. She reached the sitting room and stopped short. Charles Westwood was there. So was Reginald St. Claire. Her father. The sight of him hit her harder than any threat Dante could send. Reginald stood stiffly near the window, hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable in that familiar, distant way that had defined most of her childhood. He looked older than she remembered. Smaller. Or maybe she had si
CRUEL OBSESSION 67
CHAPTER 67 — THE SILENCE BEFORE HE STRIKES The phone didn’t ring again. That was worse. Sienna sat on the edge of the bed long after Damien left the room, the burner phone resting on the nightstand like a live thing—quiet, waiting, smug in its stillness. Dante didn’t need to say anything else. He had already said enough. I see you. I can reach you. I’m patient. She hated how calm that made him feel in her bones. The house shifted into lockdown mode without anyone needing to say the word. Doors were secured. Guards doubled. Routes were altered. Damien’s men moved like pieces on a board only he could see. Sienna watched it all from the margins, the way she always had. But this time, she wasn’t invisible. She was the reason. She went to Annabelle’s room just after midnight. Her mother slept peacefully, chest rising and falling beneath thin blankets, IV lines humming softly beside her. For a moment, Sienna allowed herself to imagine a future where this was all over—where Anna
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