Lahat ng Kabanata ng MY Ex's Father, My Obsession : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Vladislav Mikhailov’s povContrary to what my haters scream in their echo chambers and what the poor bastards ruined by my chaos-thirsty soul will eagerly tell you, I’m not a beast.I know, I know. That sounds like a fucking joke. That’s a hell of a claim, especially coming from the man whose mere presence is enough to make Satan’s edgiest worshippers cower.If you’re judging by the body count or the nightmares I inject into polite society. Christ, even my ex-therapists would call bullshit. But they’re wrong. My beast isn’t all of me. It’s a hungry shadow that coils tight at my core.It breathes in the silence between my heartbeats.It feeds on obstacles, on problems, on enemies—and it thrives in the raw anarchy of power, and brings even the bravest to their knees—whispering for mercy they never get. It ripples to life in the moment life flickers out from their eyes.The devil twitches in his grave every time my beast wakes, and God help the world when it does. It’s why I lead th

Caitlyn’s POV I’m looking at myself in the mirror after Vladislav leaves me, making sure the tears haven’t ruined my makeup. I don’t understand. Why me? Why now? Why today? I always dreamt of having the perfect wedding. One where I would walk down the aisle to my future husband with my dad by my side, my friends and loved ones watching with teary smiles. One where I’d playfully rebuke my soon-to-be husband for sneaking into my room while I’m still getting ready. One where I wouldn’t be ashamed of wearing layers of tulle and a flowing veil. One where I could go a little overboard with everything—flowers, vows, joy. But this? Instead of the tears of joy I once envisioned, I’m fighting too hard not to ruin my makeup. Instead of marrying a man I love... I’m walking down the aisle to the devil himself. I step closer to the mirror and reapply my lipstick—the one wiped clean when he devoured my mouth minutes ago. A kiss I responded to. A kiss I enjoyed. And I h

5Vladislav Mikhailov’s pov I stand outside the room long enough, not to give her privacy but just to let her mind wander, imagining the worst. I know I forced her into this sham of a marriage to protect her but I don't want to show her that she has become my weakness. It will not be long enough before she uses it against me. All women do!I can hear her heavy breathing fill the room while doing as she’s told. I wasn’t lying when I told her I’d punish her. She will learn to love being whipped, chained, and gagged when I fuck her. She will soon be gladly willing to crawl on her hands and knees while begging me to use her however I want. Begging for her release. Her soft cries filter down from the hall, interrupting my thoughts. I won’t let it get to me.Never.I walk inside the room banging the doors and she is sitting on the reclining examination bed at the far end of the room. “Lie down. Flat on your back,” I growl. She does as she is told. Tears flawlessly ran down her face, d

Caitlyn Clarke's POV A shudder rolls through me, wave after wave, stealing my breath and scattering my thoughts. For a heartbeat, I am weightless — lost in a moment that feels endless and yet impossibly fleeting. My toes curl. My thighs tremble. A soft cry escapes me before I can stop it.He releases my waist and pulls his cock from my sore pussy. Everything hurts, from my thighs to my throat that feels crusty for screaming out loud. Slipping his hand under my shaking legs cupping my butt cheeks while his other wraps around my back and we get off the bed carrying me towards the bathroom. He places me on the cold tiled bench sink that makes a faint tremor run through my body. But before he walks off he lifts his arm, cupping my face and runs his finger knuckles over my face to wipe my tears, “shh,” he murmurs that's when I realise I was crying. He then turns to the shower head, adjusting the water as I sit there still, floating undone and utterly feeling unravelled. I just had an

Caitlyn Clarke’s pov “Russian Roulette?” I ask, confused. “Have you ever heard of the game?” he quips, and a nonchalant smirk graces his lips. “If you have, then there is no need to explain it to you.” I snap back, my voice louder than intended, irritation flaring through me.“Quit pretending to be oblivious,” he mutters, rising from his chair. His movements are deliberate, unnervingly calm. He strides across the room to a tall chest of shelves, fingers dancing over the keypad. A soft beep echoes, then—click—the lock snaps open.He slides the heavy doors apart, and my breath stutters.An array of guns is neatly arranged on the shelves. Not toy guns, I mean real guns, Glock pistols, Colt Revolvers, M249 SAW, name it all. His hand darts out, and his fingers draw traces over the guns before he grabs a revolver and pulls it out and holds it up to examine it against the light. “I am not,” I whisper, my heart thundering so hard that I feel it is gonna jump out of my chest the next minu