Chapter 58: When Obsession Turns to Fear

Leonel stared at the glass of vodka in his hand, watching the clear liquid swirl slowly before he downed it in a single gulp. The burning sensation slid down his throat, but it couldn’t thaw the growing chill in his chest.

Jeslyn’s voice still echoed in his head—emotional, wounded.

"Why do you keep holding me back and ruining my life?"

His hand clenched into a fist, his jaw tightening. He had no answer, not even for himself. What exactly was he trying to get from that woman?

Leonel looked toward the window of his study. Rain continued to fall, beating rhythmically against the glass. It was dark outside—and even darker within him.

All this time, he had believed he could control everything—money, power, even other people’s feelings. But Jeslyn was different. That woman had slowly dismantled every one of his logical defenses.

He bowed his head, rubbing his temples.

“Damn it…” he muttered under his breath.

He knew one thing for certain—Jeslyn scared him. Not because she was strong, but because for the first time in his life, Leonel felt completely out of control. Love, emotion, hope—those were words that had never existed in his personal dictionary.

And now, he was starting to crave them. Not just Jeslyn’s body, but her presence—her laughter, her anger. Even her tears and wounds—he wanted to be the only man in her life.

His obsession had turned into a need. Like an addiction.

And he hated it.

Leonel slammed the empty glass onto the table, clenching his jaw. His eyes locked onto his reflection in the window.

“Do I love her?” he whispered, then gave a short, bitter laugh. “What is love, Leonel? You don’t even know what it means.”

But when he closed his eyes, it was Jeslyn’s face that appeared—disappointed, tear-streaked, her eyes filled with pain.

That’s when Leonel realized:

If he didn’t do something, she would truly leave.

Not because of distance,

But because her heart could no longer hold on.

That morning, a thin mist still hung low over the backyard. The sun had just begun to touch the tips of the leaves when Leonel walked up to the guest room on the second floor with uncharacteristically light steps.

He stopped in front of the door, took a deep breath, then knocked softly.

Knock knock!

“Jessy…” he called gently—an unusual softness in his voice that rarely escaped his lips.

But no reply came from within.

He waited a few seconds, leaning in slightly, hoping to hear footsteps or even the slightest movement.

Still, silence.

The air grew heavy with unease, and a sinking feeling began to creep into his chest.

Without thinking twice, Leonel turned the door handle.

Click.

The door opened slowly, and his eyes scanned the room—bare, untouched. Even the bed looked neatly made, as if no one had ever slept in it.

Jeslyn was gone.

“Where is she? No way…” he murmured, anxiety now rising fast.

He turned and nearly ran down the stairs. His quick footsteps echoed through the large house until he found one of the maids tidying the dining room table.

“Did you see Jeslyn?” he asked sharply.

The maid shook her head hesitantly. “I haven’t seen Miss Jeslyn since earlier, sir. I assumed she was still asleep,” she replied nervously.

Leonel rushed outside and immediately noticed one of his cars was missing from the driveway.

“She really left,” he muttered, quickly striding toward the security post at the front gate, emotions building.

He shoved open the door to the guard post, startling the two security guards inside.

“Did one of my cars leave this morning?” he asked coldly, his tone sharp and laced with pressure.

One of the guards—a middle-aged man in a black cap—nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. Around six in the morning. We assumed it was with your permission.”

“Who was driving?” Leonel pressed, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“The lady who came with you last night. She didn’t say anything. I opened the gate, and she just drove off,” the other guard answered.

Leonel closed his eyes for a moment, trying to contain the storm brewing in his chest.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed back into the house. He pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly dialed Jeslyn’s number.

The dial tone rang… once, twice…

Then voicemail.

“The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone—”

Leonel ended the call before the message finished. His eyes narrowed, tense and intense.

He stared at the phone screen, willing it to light up with her name.

But it stayed dark.

He ran a hand over his face, rough and frustrated.

Anxiety slowly gave way to guilt.

“Was I too harsh on her last night?”

He stood still for a moment, picturing Jeslyn’s face as she cried—the pain in her eyes, the tremble in her voice as she demanded answers, the look of disappointment that pierced through his emotional walls.

"Why do you keep holding me back and ruining my life?"

Those words wouldn’t leave his mind.

He turned to the large living room window, gazing out at the road now bustling with passing cars in the distance.

And for the first time in a long time,

Leonel felt truly sorry.

***