The Ceo's possession: claiming his chaos

“I didn’t expect you back tonight, Simon. I thought you had a late board meeting.”

Ariana Carter stood frozen. The vast, silent penthouse felt colder than usual, amplifying the sharp click of her heels on the marble floor—and the frantic pounding of her heart. Weeks away from the wedding, the silk and lace of her ruined dress lay discarded in the next room, already starting to smell like despair.

Simon glanced up from the custom leather sofa. His response wasn’t guilt or fear—it was mild, irritated boredom. His mistress, a woman Ariana recognized from a rival’s charity gala, tugged her expensive shawl up around her shoulders.

“Ariana, darling, this is beneath you,” Simon drawled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Go home. We’ll discuss the pre-nuptial agreements in the morning. You’re being dramatic.”

Dramatic. Agreements. Beneath you.

Each word cut like a shard of glass.

She had loved him. She had overlooked the distance, forgiven the coldness, defended his name. His betrayal wasn’t just personal—it threatened her career, her family, her reputation.

But Ariana didn’t scream. She didn’t throw things or cry. Instead, the cold, razor-sharp edge of her Carter ambition slid into place.

“Dramatic? Hardly,” she said coolly. “You didn’t just break my heart—you sabotaged the largest marketing campaign of my career. And trust me, Simon, that is something I won’t be discussing calmly.”

Her honey-brown eyes locked onto the mistress.

“And you. Update your résumé. I’m sure my brother Trevor would love to buy your company’s debt and rearrange a few executives.”

Simon laughed—a short, ugly sound that made Ariana’s stomach twist.

“There she is. My little spitfire,” he said mockingly. “Relax. The contracts are airtight. Your father and Trevor need this merger too much for you to throw a tantrum.”

He took a slow, savoring sip, his gaze turning pitying.

“The truth is, darling, you’re just the pretty princess who signs papers. You’re too fragile for anything real. Didn’t Lucas Hill prove that years ago?”

Lucas Hill.

The name hit her like a punch. The man who had humiliated her teenage heart—now weaponized by her fiancé.

The pain was blinding.

Ariana fled.

She didn’t go home. She drove her vintage Mercedes too fast, skyscrapers streaking past her like cold, metallic laughter. The towers of her family’s empire glittered overhead, mocking how sheltered and naïve she’d been.

She kept driving until the city turned dark and unrecognizable.

Finally, she pulled over, desperate for air that didn’t taste like lies, wandering toward the narrow, shadowed streets at the city’s edge. She ducked into a filthy alley to adjust her torn dress—a symbol of everything she wanted to escape.

That’s when danger found her.

A rough hand clamped over her mouth. Another twisted her arm behind her back.

“Well, well,” a slurred voice breathed against her ear. “Look what the gold standard dragged in.”

Panic surged up her throat. She stomped on his foot and tried to wrench free, but he was too strong, dragging her deeper into the dark.

“Fight all you want, sweetheart. No one’s gonna hear you scream.”

No.

No, I won’t let this happen.

Drawing on a fierce, hidden anger Simon never knew she possessed, Ariana braced herself for a fight she couldn’t win.

Then she heard it.

A sound—heavy, deliberate footsteps crunching across gravel.

Custom leather shoes.

And then a voice. Low. Cold. Commanding. A voice that froze the air.

“Let. Her. Go.”

The words weren’t loud. They didn’t have to be.

They were final.

The man holding her cursed, turning. “Who the hell are you? Get lost, suit—”

A sickening crack cut off his words. A body hit the ground.

Ariana stumbled free, gasping, and looked up.

A tall, broad, immaculately dressed shadow stood over her attacker.

Lucas Hill.

He didn’t rush to her. He didn’t ask if she was hurt. He simply stepped forward, controlled, dangerous, assessing her like a predator evaluating prey.

His icy gray gaze locked onto hers. The agony of Simon’s betrayal vanished—scorched away by the brutal clarity of the moment.

The man who once crushed her heart now held her fate in his hands.

“Ariana Carter,” Lucas said, his voice quiet and lethal. It wasn’t a question; it was a decree. “You’re coming with me. Right now. Until I decide what happens next, you’re under my roof.”

His gaze hardened, a command carved in stone.

“And under my control.”