Semua Bab Her Dark Obsession : Bab 1 - Bab 10

The fluorescent lights in City General Hospital buzzed like angry wasps. Bianca Richardson sat in the hard plastic chair outside Room 304, watching nurses rush past with clipboards and medication carts. Her mother had been inside with Dr. Chen for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes that felt like twenty hours. The door opened. Dr. James Chen stepped out, his expression carefully neutral in that way doctors practiced when they had bad news. He was young for a kidney specialist—probably early forties—with gray streaking his black hair at the temples. Bianca had seen that look before. It never meant anything good. "Miss Richardson." He gestured toward a small consultation room across the hall. "Let's talk." Bianca's stomach dropped. She followed him on legs that felt like rubber, her worn sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor. The consultation room was barely bigger than a closet, with two chairs facing each other and a box of tissues on the small table between them. The tissues w

Bianca arrived at Luxe Noir fifteen minutes early the next morning. She'd barely slept, running through possible interview scenarios in her head all night. Skills tests? Typing speed challenges? Maybe Anna would throw impossible scheduling conflicts at her to see how she handled pressure. Whatever it was, Bianca was ready. She'd borrowed a different dress from Sophie—navy blue, more professional than yesterday's black. She'd practiced walking in the heels until her feet went numb. She'd even watched three YouTube videos on "Executive Assistant Best Practices." The receptionist recognized her this time and waved her toward the elevators with a knowing smile. "Good luck." Bianca rode up to the fortieth floor, her stomach doing its familiar nervous dance. When the elevator doors opened, she stepped out into the hallway and froze. Anna was waiting outside her office doors. She wore black today—slim pants and a fitted blazer that looked like it had been tailored specifically for her b

"Hey." Sophie touched her shoulder. "First of all, there's no such thing as normal. Second, just because you dated Sebastian doesn't mean you're straight. Sexuality is fluid. Maybe you're bi. Maybe you're gay and didn't realize it. Maybe you're just attracted to this specific person." "I didn't even like sex with Sebastian," Bianca blurted out, then immediately wished she could take it back. But Sophie just nodded. "I know." "You know?" "Bianca, you're my best friend. I could tell. Every time you talked about him, you never sounded happy. You sounded... obligated." The word landed like a stone in Bianca's chest because it was true. She thought back to her relationship with Sebastian. Two years of dating someone who took and took without giving anything back. He'd had money—not rich, but comfortable enough to always pay for dates, to have a nice apartment, to make her feel like she should be grateful he chose her. Sex had been quick, perfunctory, always on his schedule. He'd neve

The restaurant was the kind of place Bianca had only seen in movies. Crystal chandeliers. White tablecloths. A pianist in the corner playing something soft and melancholy. Every table occupied by people who belonged in places like this—people who didn't check price tags or worry about whether they could afford dessert. Bianca smoothed her borrowed dress and tried not to feel like an imposter. Anna sat across from her in deep green silk, devastating and composed. She'd ordered wine without asking—something French the waiter handled like a religious artifact. "Relax," Anna said, watching her. "You look like you're waiting for someone to throw you out." "I've never been somewhere like this." "I know." Anna's lips curved. "That's why I brought you here. I want to see how you handle unfamiliar territory." Everything was a test with her. Bianca took a sip of wine to steady herself. It was the best thing she'd ever tasted. "Tell me about your mother," Anna said. The question surprise

Bianca started work the following Monday as Ms. Adams's personal assistant—professional only, no contract signed yet. The first week was surprisingly normal. She answered phones, managed Ms. Adams's calendar, scheduled meetings with designers and suppliers. She learned that Ms. Adams drank her coffee black, hated being interrupted during creative sessions, and had a sharp sense of humor that caught Bianca off guard. The Luxe Noir offices buzzed with controlled energy. Designers sketched at huge drafting tables. Seamstresses worked on industrial machines, creating samples for the spring line. Models came and went for fittings, their long legs and bored expressions making them look like beautiful aliens. Everyone respected Ms. Adams. Not out of fear, but genuine admiration. She knew every employee's name, remembered details about their lives, gave clear direction without micromanaging. "She's a good boss," said Marcus, one of the senior designers, when Bianca brought him coffee. "De