The Don’s Dangerous Addiction

Before her appointment, Avery received an anonymous card.

No signature. Just one line:

"Experiment 047 is waiting for you. Don't disappoint him."

She turned the card over and back again. No clues.

047？A number for what?

She didn't know what it meant, but the feeling of being calculated in advance made her palms sweat.

She tucked the card into her pocket, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door to the estate.

"Take it off yourself, or I'll do it."

Dominic's voice came from the darkness. Low. Rough. The kind that made your blood run cold.

Avery stood still.

In the dark, every breath Dominic took carried an unnatural tremor, like something inside his chest was forcing its way out.

She could see the veins in his neck, pulsing at an irregular rhythm.

She curled her fingers tight. Her nails dug into her palms.

Lightning split the sky. It lit up his face.

Avery froze for a second.

His lips were grayish purple. Not normal poor circulation. This was Cardiopulmonary distress after physical depletion. His eyes were bloodshot. Likely from frequent sleep disorders. But his pupils were so dilated she could barely see his irises. Mania and exhaustion written on the same face, like two opposing forces tearing at one person.

She had seen faces like this in clinical practice. They were always difficult to handle.

She pushed down that second of shock and refocused on his breathing rate.

"Mr. Kessler, this isn't the time to discuss what I'm wearing. Your heart rate is over 180. If this continues, you'll die by your own hand."

"My last doctor. Your mentor."

He lunged forward.

"Right here in this room, he tried to send me to the afterlife with a micro bomb hidden on his body."

"You think I'll let you just... get close to me?"

His eyes traveled over her body. A sharp stare, as if trying to burn through the fabric.

"If you want your payment, prove yourself first." His voice dropped.

One hand hooked into her collar. The other waved a check.

Avery opened her mouth to argue. In an instant, her coat was ripped from her shoulders. Her sweater torn open. Her skirt fell.

When she stood before him in nothing but thin undergarments, exposed, reason quickly took over from humiliation.

Twenty thousand dollars.

The cost of a single session. Also the ticket to one cycle of her brother's specialized medication at the private sanatorium.

Ten sessions. A contract of life and death.

She couldn't leave this house until the final injection was administered. She couldn't refuse any of his orders.

Dominic's condition had become deeply strange. He was gasping for air, his head hanging low, almost resting on Avery's shoulder.

"Enough."

Avery stepped forward. Her cool palm pressed against his jaw and lifted his face.

"You're dying, Mr. Kessler. Step back. Sit down."

She didn't give him a chance to argue. She pushed him back into the sofa. Then she quickly pulled a syringe from her medical kit, found the right spot, and pushed the sedative in.

The scent of peaches seeped from her neck. His hand slid off the armrest. His fingertips brushed her throat by accident.

He didn't open his eyes. A distorted murmur escaped his throat.

"Is it... you?"

Before Avery could react, he lunged. His hand locked around her wrist like an iron cuff, yanking her hard against his chest.

"I killed so many people looking for you..." His voice broke against her ear, barely a whisper, but carrying a terrifying obsession.

Looking for who? Me?

Avery stood frozen. Her professional instincts fired off a few diagnostic terms in her head.

Hallucination? Or cognitive confusion from a new drug kicking in too fast?

But the sheer weight of that obsession chilled her spine. That level of subconscious projection usually meant he was identifying someone he had carved into his bones. Hate. Or craving.

The drug spread fast.

Ten seconds later, his full weight collapsed onto her. Dominic fell into a deathlike sleep.

Avery was trapped in his arms, unable to move. Just as she tried to push his heavy body off, her eyes landed on the inside of Dominic's wrist.

In the dim lamplight, an old, misshapen star shaped scar ran across it.

Avery's pupils contracted. The familiar chill of being dragged into an abyss washed over her instantly.

The outline of that scar was like a rusted key, forcing open a door she had locked for seven years.

A phantom pain shot through her wrist. It merged with the memory of that night on the gambling ship. The same crushing grip, the same force that pinned her to the wet deck. Salty air. The dizzying sway of the boat. Her own sobs swallowed by the sound of waves. Countless fragments came roaring back to life with that scar.

No. Impossible.

She held her breath, staring at that pale raised mark. Her fingers trembled uncontrollably. Scars like this were everywhere. But when Dominic tightened his grip again in his sleep, that exact crushing force that felt like it could shatter her bones... it nearly destroyed the last shred of her reason.

Too similar. Not just the scar. That violence that even sleep couldn't calm.

She pushed herself up, trying to free herself from his arm. Her gaze accidentally swept across the corner of the desk.

An envelope sat there. Sealed with wax. The wax stamp was a gold letter "D."

Avery's breath stopped.

That letter D.

Seven years ago, on the gambling ship. The black diamond ring that slipped off that man's finger. Engraved on the band was the same letter.

She stared at the envelope for so long she counted Dominic's breathing three times before forcing herself to look away.

Coincidence. There were too many coincidences in this world.

The rain outside had stopped at some point. The dead silent room held only Dominic's terrifyingly steady breathing. He still had her locked in his arms. The heat from his palm burned her skin. It hurt.

Avery couldn't break free. She lay stiff in his arms, eyes closed, shivering without meaning to.

The sun would come up.

She counted.

One.

Nine left.

Avery didn't know when she passed out.

When she woke, she was lying on the hard leather sofa.

Cold morning light filtered into the room, making it look like a giant operating theater.

No unnecessary decorations. Cold gray walls. Dark metal lines. The smell of rust and cold pine in the air pressed down on her chest.

Avery sat up sharply and looked down at herself in panic.

Her coat had been draped back over her. Even the button that had popped off was tucked neatly into her pocket. This level of meticulous, almost obsessive precision made her skin crawl.

Dominic sat in a black office chair by the window.

He had changed into a charcoal black suit. No tie. The top button of his shirt was open, revealing a strip of pale neck. He was staring at a computer screen, his bony fingers tapping the desk occasionally. His expression and demeanor showed no trace of last night's unraveling.

"Twenty thousand dollars."

His voice was flat. Detached. Magnetic. He opened a drawer, pulled out a check already signed, and flicked it across the marble desktop. It slid to a stop in front of Avery.

"That's for last night." He finally looked up. His eyes, like dry wells, reflected her pale, disheveled face.

"Due to side effects from the medication, I wasn't fully conscious last night. I trust the doctor understands that certain unprofessional noises don't need to leave this room."

He was drawing a line. And warning her.

Avery reached out and quickly tucked the check into her coat. The paper was light, but it crushed her pride with its weight.

"I understand." Avery took a deep breath and turned toward the door. "Since the first session is over, I'll follow the contract and come back at the next scheduled time."

"Who said you could leave?"

Dominic's voice wasn't loud, but it caught her steps like a cold iron chain. Avery turned and met his eyes. Watching. Cruel. Amused.

"I thought I made myself clear." Avery held up her professional mask. "My brother needs care at the hospital, and your condition has entered the observation phase."

"Observation phase means the doctor needs to stay within sight." Dominic set down his coffee cup. He crossed his long legs and leaned back, settling into a purely predatory posture. He pressed a button on the desk phone.

"The doctor will need to stay here until the ten sessions are complete." He spoke quietly into the phone, but his eyes never left Avery's face. They swept over her trembling lashes and stopped at the red marks on her wrist.

"Mr. Kessler, this is false imprisonment."

"No, Dr. Claire."

Dominic stood and walked toward her. His neatly pressed cuff hid the star shaped scar that made her tremble. All that remained was the sharp, aggressive scent of cold pine.

"It's called contract security. After all, if you really saw something you shouldn't have in this room last night, the only reason you're still alive is that you haven't cured me yet."

He stopped in front of her. Close enough for her to see the fine weave of his suit.

"Until the tenth injection, you're not going anywhere."

Dominic's long fingers ghosted over her cheek. He didn't touch, but the chill of death ran through her.

"Now, take a shower. That peach scent of yours... it's too loud."

Two black suited guards appeared at the door. Silent. Blocking her only way out.

Avery clenched the check and walked into the bathroom. The moment the door closed behind her, her phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

She stared at the screen and opened it.

A picture. Black background. White letters.

"Project 030"

Her thumb stopped over the screen.

A line of smaller text appeared below.

"You're already inside."

She stared at the words. Her heart beat twice. She tried to take a screenshot.

The screen went black.

The message was gone.