LOGINDiane Jacobs has survived her life by learning how not to react. Raised in a family where obedience is mistaken for grace and silence is rewarded, Diane moves through the world quietly observant, restrained, invisible by design. Control has always belonged to other people: her father, her family, society’s expectations. Then Eddie West notices her. Their first collision isn’t physical. It’s psychological. In a room full of people, Eddie makes a spectacle not of love, but of dominance using another woman to send Diane a message she never consented to receive. From that moment on, Diane is no longer unseen. When Diane unknowingly steps into Eddie’s world as his Personal Assistant, the power imbalance becomes unavoidable. Eddie is controlled, obsessive, and deeply intentional. He does nothing without purpose including hiring her. What begins as professional proximity becomes a slow, suffocating game of awareness, restraint, and unspoken desire. Eddie never crosses a line openly. He doesn’t need to. His control is in silence, implication, and patience.
View MoreThe chilled Los Angeles morning crept in quietly, broken only by the shrill sound of my alarm and the soft chirping of birds outside the window.
"Turn off the fucking alarm!" my sister shouted, shoving a pillow over her ears. Of course we shared the same room. I hated it,every single day. I rolled my eyes, silenced the alarm, and slipped out of bed. Thanksgiving had arrived, and that meant chaos. Family members would be trooping in soon, and my mom would insist on doing everything herself unless I stepped in. I went straight to the living room, where she greeted me with a warm smile that never quite reached her eyes. Together, we began putting things in order, straightening cushions, wiping surfaces, arranging the room as if perfection could somehow hold everything together. Then I saw it. My parents wedding photo sat proudly on the shelf, frozen in a moment that no longer existed. The sight of it made something twist painfully in my chest. "Ma," I said softly, unable to hold it in, "you don't have to do this. You're only hurting yourself." She paused but didn't turn around. "He's moved on," I continued. "He divorced you, and barely a month later he posted pictures of his new wife,with a daughter almost my age. Please... stop doing this to yourself." She finally faced me, her eyes glassy but stubborn. "He's going to come back," she said. "And besides, he still takes full responsibility for your sister's education." "That's his responsibility," I muttered bitterly. If I had a job, none of this would matter. If he hadn't forced me to drop out, maybe things would be different. Anger burned in my chest ,anger at my father, at his new wife, that witch, and her daughter, Aurora. The thought of sitting at the same table with them tonight made my stomach churn. Footsteps echoed on the stairs. Emily finally came downstairs, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Diane, can you grab me some water?" she asked sweetly. I shot her a glare. She laughed. "Relax. I'm kidding." I laughed too, shaking my head. "Get out, idiot. Your father and his witches are already on their way. Try to behave,especially since I'll be starting my internship at his company soon." I turned back toward our mother. "So now I'm the one who spoils things for people?" The words hung in the air, half joking, half resentful. Laughing softly to myself, I headed back to my room to freshen up, bracing for a Thanksgiving that promised anything but peace. We all sat in the sitting room, chatting as we waited. When the doorbell rang, Emily sprang to her feet and ran to the door. "Daddy!" she shouted. Emily and Shine wore the fakest smiles I had ever seen, and irritation surged through me instantly. The moment my mom saw them, she hurried to the dining area and began setting the table. If she weren't my mother, I would have called her a pick me for how quickly she bent over backward for them. They all walked in. I greeted them politely. Shine and her mother finally looked up at me, shock flickering across her face. Her mother answered my greeting, but the tension in the room was impossible to ignore. They settled down, and then my father spoke. "Diane, I hope you've learned your lesson. You don't fight battles that are not yours." I nodded and forced a smile, bitterness filling my mouth. Before the moment between my father and me could deepen, Shine interrupted. "Father, you have to invite Aunty Clara and her daughter too. They're family." My father looked up proudly. "Shine is getting married." Her engagement is in five days My mom reached out to Shine, her face lighting up with hope. "Oh" Shine shoved her hand away. My mom didn't stop smiling. "We will definitely be there," she said calmly. "Congratulations," Emily added. "Hmmm," Shine replied in a mocking tone. Then she turned to me. "Big sis, you'll come with your partner, right?" My stepmother leaned closer and whispered, her voice sharp and cruel, "Who dates a liability these days?" The room fell silent. Every eye the witches,my father's even my mother turned toward me, waiting for my reply. I lifted my head, met their stares, and smiled. "Sure."Diane's POV (Real Time) The chant reached me before the kiss did. Kiss. Kiss. It rippled through the room light, playful, careless. I barely registered it at first. My attention was fixed on the stage, on the way Eddie stood beside Shine, on the tension locked into his shoulders. It wasn't nerves. It was control coiled and deliberate, like something waiting to be unleashed. Then he moved. Not hesitantly. Not reluctantly. He pulled her in. Time didn't slow. It fractured. My breath hitched painfully. For one humiliating second, I forgot how to look away. My eyes refused to blink as his hand settled at her waist firm, possessive drawing her closer until her body fit against his with practiced ease. And then he kissed her. Slowly. Deliberately. The room erupted cheers, whistles, applause but the sound collapsed inward, muffled and distant, as though I'd been dragged underwater. My ears rang. My chest tightened until breathing became something I had to conscious
Diane's POV Dinner did not end. It dragged. The silence sat heavy at the table, pressing against my chest until breathing felt deliberate. I kept my gaze lowered, my fork tracing meaningless patterns through food I had no intention of eating. My thoughts spiraled, each one darker than the last. What was he doing here? Why did his presence feel intentional? I lifted my head slowly, as if bracing myself. He was still watching me. Not with curiosity. Not with politeness. But with a calm, unsettling patience as though he had already decided something and was simply waiting for the right moment. His eyes didn't flinch when they met mine. The faint smirk from the club returned, restrained but unmistakable. Heat crept along my spine. I looked away, my fingers tightening until the silverware trembled slightly in my hand. When dinner finally ended, relief came sharp and rushed. We left immediately. The drive home passed in a tense silence, streetlights flashing across the window lik
I started doing my makeup with more care than necessary, as if precision could quiet the unrest inside me. My wardrobe suffered for it. clothes pulled out, rejected, discarded. Fabric brushed my fingers, none of it right, none of it strong enough. I needed something that looked effortless, something that lied convincingly. Then I saw it. The yellow floral dress rested at the back like it had been waiting, pearls sewn delicately along the neckline soft, deceptive. Innocence tailored to perfection. I slipped into it and nodded at my reflection. Perfect, I told myself, though my chest felt tight. I chose the burgundy sandals Susan had gifted me, the color deep and unapologetic, grounding me. My hair went into a ponytail before I deliberately ruined it, tugging strands loose into a messy bun. Controlled chaos. After one last look in the mirror steady eyes, neutral lips I went downstairs. Mom smiled first. Emily followed, her expression cautious, almost guilty. "I'm sorry, sis," Emil
I woke up with a migraine, the kind that felt personal like punishment. My skull throbbed as if something inside it was trying to claw its way out. I reached for the other side of the bed, half asleep, half hoping Susan would still be there. My hand met cold sheets. Of course. I forced myself upright and dragged my body into the kitchen. Susan stood by the counter, unbothered, brewing tea like the world hadn't nearly imploded the night before. "Hey, alcoholic," I muttered, throwing her a glare. "You almost got us in trouble last night." I replied "Whatever." That smirk flashed through my mind again the stranger from the club, watching like he knew things about me I hadn't said out loud. It lingered, irritating and unwanted. "Jerk," I said under my breath. Susan turned slowly. "Was that for me?" she scoffed. I shook my head. I had never met anyone who could turn chaos into entertainment the way Susan did. "We need to call Jonathan," I said. "We have to tell him about this who
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