HIS RUINED OBSESSION

PROLOGUE

I had buried Joe. I had told my father no. I had chosen the cemetery over my arranged bride. I felt nothing. I’d lost everything that gave my life meaning in the span of a single night; the very night of my third anniversary.

So, when that hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my protest, my instinct should have been to fight, to claw my way out of that grip.

But I barely tried.

When he called himself Rowan Hayes, when he spoke of my father and my arranged bride, it struck me: This man is Chaos, Hatred, and Ruin all in one.

He wanted to destroy me. And in that moment, watching the sedative hiss toward my face, a shameful thought surfaced: Maybe I want to feel something. Something other than the silence. I let the darkness take me, yielding to the ruin he promised.

I had nothing left to lose. Let him ruin me. I long to see what kind of darkness he intends to bring to my already wrecked life.

CHAPTER 1

~~MATTEO~~

I glanced around the restaurant, taking in every detail. The balloons were glued to the ceiling, the letter balloons spelling out “Happy Anniversary,” and the large chandelier hung, beautifully above.

The perfect romantic setting, I thought to myself.

“We are all done, sir.”

I nodded once. “Perfect. You may all leave.”

They inclined their heads in acknowledgment and left as ordered.

I watched the time tick by on my 24-karat gold Rolex, a smile breaking onto my face.

The excitement building inside me was almost too hard to contain.

Today was our anniversary. It was the day I agreed to date the only man I’d ever loved, and over the years, he had proven to me how much he was worth that decision.

In fifteen minutes, he’d be here. We’d talk, share beautiful laughter, and end the night drowning in each other’s ecstasy.

I’d rented out the whole restaurant as a surprise. I settled into a seat, counting the minutes until his arrival.

The clock struck 6:00 p.m., and there was no sign of him. Instead, a text came in.

“You have to forgive me, mi amor. I got delayed by my boss at work. I’ll be running a little late.”

I chuckled, staring at the text and imagining the guilt-filled, worried expression he probably had while typing.

“I’ll wait for you. While you’re at it, consider my offer,” I texted back.

His response came in almost immediately. “No, Matteo. We already concluded. I will not consider working in your father’s company.” He added a laugh emoji to the message.

I shrugged my shoulders as though he could see me. “I’ll put in a good word for you. More pay, less stress.”

“I appreciate that, but no. We’ll see each other in thirty. I love you. Bye.”

If only he had considered my offer. His damned pride. He could be safe here, right now, instead of busting his ass for Chevron. I released a deep breath, wishong I could argue with the laugh emoji

.

Father owned a conglomerate, an ex-politician who had spent most of his life building wealth and empires.

And even though I hated him, it was moments like these that made me somewhat proud of having him as a father.

I leaned deeper into my seat, throwing my head back in a relaxed manner.

Just when I was about to call Joe to ask where he was, a call from an unknown number came in.

I cursed; today was my anniversary, and I wasn't welcoming any distraction of any sort. I declined the call and quickly dialed Joe’s number.

Confusion blurred my thinking when the call went straight to voicemail. I concluded it was some network glitch and tried again.

My heart hammered brutally against my ribs when, after the fifteenth attempt, it still directed me to his voicemail.

In all our years of dating, Joe was never unavailable to pick up calls, especially mine. The only time anything similar had happened was when he fell terribly ill and fainted in his apartment.

I’d rushed over out of worry to find him lying helpless on the floor, barely breathing.

I scrambled to my feet, heading outside the restaurant.

My chauffeur was waiting there, leaning on the vehicle while he smoked. He put the cigarette out when he saw me.

“Where are we heading?”

“Chevron,” I responded. It was where he worked.

He nodded once, opened the passenger’s door before heading into the driver’s seat.

The unknown number from earlier called in again.

I muttered discontentedly under my breath and swiped to pick up the call.

“Matteo. You've caught me at a bad time” I said impatiently.

A smooth, feminine voice responded from the other end. “We found your contact information on Joe’s emergency contact.”

I froze, the irritation I felt a moment ago by the call, evaporated, replaced by a sudden, icy fear.

“What? Who is this? Where is Joe?”

The responding voice continued. “I am calling from MayDay City Hospital. Your partner, Joseph Almonte, was involved in a serious traffic accident on the Chevron access road about ten minutes ago.”

My breath caught.

“An accident?” My voice grew shaky . “Is he—is he okay?”

The hesitation on the other end was too obvious not to notice.

“Sir, the situation is… extremely critical. We need you to get here immediately.”

My mind raced, struggling to process the clinical words. Extremely critical.

“Tell me!” I roared, sitting upright in the seat, startling my chauffeur, who glanced at me anxiously in the rearview mirror. “Tell me what ‘critical’ means! Is he conscious? Is he being treated?”

“Mr. Almonte sustained multiple severe blunt force injuries. He is currently in the Operating Room. The crash was high-impact, and frankly, his condition is dire. We are doing everything we can, but you must understand, he might not make it.”

The last six words knocker out the breath from my lungs. He might not make it.

I let out a choked sob. There is no way on earth I am believing that. The night. It was just about to be perfect. There's no way it can take aswift turn just like this.

The excitement I felt at the restaurant... At our anniversary. It shattered

My Joe, who was supposed to be here in thirty minutes, was now fighting for his life.

“No,” I mumbled, shaking my head violently. “No, you’re wrong. You have the wrong person. Joe is fine. He’s just late from work.”

A wave of nausea crashed over me. I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, tears blurring my vision. “I’m on my way. I’m coming now. Don’t you dare let him go.”

I slammed the phone down without waiting for a reply. My hands were trembling so badly I could barely form the words.

“Change direction! MayDay City hospital! Now!” I shouted at my driver, the command ripped from my chest. “Don’t slow down for anything!”

He nodded at my order and swerved the car into another direction.

. I gripped the door handle, my knuckles white, staring blankly out the window.

Her words replayed in my mind over and over again."He might not make it."

I closed my eyes, a strangled sob escaping my throat. The image of Joe, smiling, laughing, alive, was the only thing I could hold onto as the car sped through the city.

I prayed, something I hadn’t done in years. I pleaded with every power I could think of: Please. Just let him make it. I’ll do anything.