3

Sebastian’s POV

The shrill sound of my alarm broke the silence of the early morning. I groaned, rubbing my face as I forced myself out of bed. It was another day, another battle to conquer in the corporate world. Pushing aside my lingering drowsiness, I headed to the bathroom, stepping into the shower. The cold water hit my skin, washing away the remnants of sleep and clearing my mind. Afterward, I put on my perfectly tailored Armani suit, a staple of my wardrobe that spoke of power and precision.

As I adjusted my cufflinks, my butler knocked softly on the door before entering. “Sir, breakfast is ready,” he informed me with his usual calm demeanor. He was a man in his mid-50s, with a head full of grey hair and a posture that reflected years of dedicated service. I respected him immensely, knowing the effort and discipline it took to stay steadfast in one’s duties. Respect like that doesn’t come easy; it’s earned through hardship, something I know all too well.

But the past is a door I rarely open. What lies behind it is not something I dwell on. It only brings sadness and distraction, and I have no time for either.

I descended the stairs, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee greeting me as I entered the dining room. Taking my seat at the head of the table, I began my breakfast—a carefully balanced meal prepared to keep me energized throughout the day. While eating, I scrolled through my phone, responding to emails and reviewing updates from my department heads. Multitasking was second nature to me. Time is precious, and I waste none of it.

After finishing, I signaled to my driver to prepare the car. The sleek black vehicle awaited me in the driveway, ready to ferry me to my empire. The towering skyscraper that bore my company’s name gleamed under the sunlight as we approached. It stood as a testament to years of relentless work, built on a foundation of sweat, sleepless nights, and the unwavering support of one person who believed in my dream. That person’s memory is a light I carry with me, even in my darkest moments.

The driver opened the door, and I stepped out, straightening my jacket as I entered the building. My presence commanded respect. Employees greeted me with nervous smiles and hurried bows, aware that I tolerated nothing less than perfection during work hours. I walked with purpose, stepping into my private elevator and pressing the button to my office floor. The doors closed, encasing me in silence as the elevator ascended smoothly. Minutes later, a soft ding signaled my arrival. The doors slid open, and I strode out, making my way to my cabin.

Settling into my desk, I immersed myself in the day’s tasks. Important documents waited for my signature—contracts, agreements, and proposals that could determine the future of my company. My office was a sanctuary of efficiency, its modern design reflecting my personality: sharp, precise, and unyielding.

A knock at the door interrupted my focus. “Come in,” I said, my voice cold and authoritative. It was a tone that left no room for casual conversation, a tone that ensured my employees respected me—or feared me. My secretary stepped in, clutching a clipboard.

“Sir, you have a meeting with the Japanese clients in an hour. It’s regarding the expansion project that could bring significant opportunities for the company,” she reported, her tone professional but tinged with apprehension. Everyone knew I had no patience for inefficiency.

I nodded curtly, dismissing her with a glance. My focus shifted to the details of the upcoming meeting. Every project, every deal, was a step toward solidifying my legacy—a legacy I’d built with my own hands, overcoming obstacles that would have broken weaker men.

As I walked to the conference room, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Glancing at the caller ID, I saw it was one of my men. My heart quickened slightly, though my expression remained impassive. I answered, my voice calm but expectant.

“What is it?” I asked.

“She’s attending her math class now, sir,” came the reply. Relief washed over me, though I didn’t show it. The "she" in question was my Flower—my Love. My world revolved around her, even if she didn’t know it. For now, she was blissfully unaware of my obsession, of the lengths I went to ensure her safety.

“Good,” I replied, my tone softer than usual. “Keep an eye on her. Report to me if anything seems off.”

“Understood,” the man said before ending the call.

I pocketed my phone, my thoughts momentarily distracted by her. My Flower was delicate, innocent, and far too naïve for her own good. She didn’t realize how vulnerable she was, how the world could be cruel and unforgiving. That’s why I had men guarding her, ensuring no harm came her way. She would never know about the shadows that followed her, the silent protectors I had stationed to watch over her. She didn’t need to know. It was my responsibility to shield her from danger, even if it meant keeping secrets from her.

I entered the conference room, my mind snapping back to the task at hand. The meeting proceeded smoothly, the Japanese clients impressed by the thoroughness of my proposal. I kept my focus sharp, every word calculated to ensure the deal would close in my favor. Success was the only option, and by the time the meeting ended, I knew I’d secured another milestone for my company.

Returning to my office, I allowed myself a moment to think of her again. My Flower. She didn’t know how much power she held over me, how her mere existence drove me to achieve greater heights. She was my muse, my reason for everything I did. Yet, she remained oblivious to my feelings. Part of me wanted to keep it that way, to preserve her innocence. But another part of me, the darker, more possessive part, wanted her to know she was mine.

There were days when I struggled to keep my emotions in check, days when the desire to claim her, to make her mine, burned too strongly to ignore. But I knew I had to be patient. She deserved the world, and I was determined to give it to her—on my terms.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings, phone calls, and paperwork. By evening, as I sat in my office reviewing the final reports, my thoughts drifted back to her. I checked my phone, half-expecting an update from my men. None came, which meant all was well. Still, I couldn’t resist pulling up the schedule I had painstakingly memorized. Her routine was etched into my mind: her classes, her hobbies, even her favorite places to visit. It was a map of her life, one I followed closely.

Leaning back in my chair, I allowed myself a rare smile. She was safe, and that was all that mattered. For now, I could continue watching from the shadows, ensuring her happiness and security. But one day, she would know. One day, she would look at me and realize that everything I did, every step I took, was for her.

And when that day came, she would finally be mine