All Chapters of Whispers of Obsession; Innocent. Obedient. His.: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

14 Chapters

Perfection Cracking: THE FALL.

Dorothy“Ugh!”My body slammed against the smooth marbled floor as I was about to finish the Grand Jeté practice session for my upcoming ballet recital.Everyone let out a loud gasp, their eyes widening in disbelief. For the first time, they were seeing me fail.I felt my chest sink; they wanted more from me. They wanted their expectations to be reached.“I can’t believe she missed that last part.”I heard hushes and whispers from the other dancers.“Her mother would never.”“Dorothy Kace!”My dance instructor, Mrs. Ivanoski’s thickly accented voice, made the entire chatter cease instantly. My heart raced faster as I struggled to my feet, bearing the ache in my ankle.“Yes, teacher,” I answered quietly, my head lowered as I waited for her usual disappointment.“I had expected better from you, Dorothy,” she said harshly. “What is the matter with you?”I didn’t answer. I couldn’t even look at her. In fact, she would probably shun me if I did.Then the words I had always dreaded hit me.

The Man My Mother Married

I followed him silently, my eyes boring into the back of his head. This man was no driver, he was something I couldn’t explain. I had never seen anyone except my mother make Mrs. Ivanoski act so humbled.He paused and turned slowly.Behind those dark glasses was the same cold look. He tilted his head slightly down, his gaze fixed on my bruised ankle while I still wore my ballet shoes beneath the pretty dress.“What?” I asked, subconsciously hiding my bruised ankle behind my other leg.He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to the passenger seat and opened the door, waiting.I hesitated.With a tired sigh, I walked to the seat and reached for the door to close it, but instead, he gently removed my fingers from it. Not rough, just careful, like I was some fragile thing that could break in a second.I followed him with my eyes until he finally sat in the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror.Throughout the car ride, there was pure silence. Not the kind I found comforting whenever m

The First Time He Touched Me

“Him? Mom, you’re kidding, right? This is Uncle Sebastien, dad’s best friend.” I said, forgetting how loud I was.Lots of emotions ran through me. I wanted an explanation. I wanted to know how… what happened, and why he chose to marry my mother.Sebastien didn’t blink. He didn’t try to explain or reassure me. All he did was look down at my legs. That look alone made me shift back, and for the first time, I walked away.I literally walked away from Mom, from everything. I didn’t know where I was going, all I knew was that I needed to get out of there.“Don’t worry, poor girl will come back to her senses, she’s just dazed.” Mom laughed, but underneath that laughter held something new.Panic?I guess not.I walked toward the entrance, forgetting the fact that reporters and paparazzi were outside, being blocked from entry by the security guards.“It’s her!”They screamed, cameras flashing. I was supposed to be scared, or seek cover. But now, I felt numb. I carried a pain that wasn’t even

Who Decides?

Sebastien walked closer, his face as cold as ever, though I noticed a bit of warmth in his eyes. He leaned over and held my foot again.I tried protesting once more, but a warning glance from him made me change my mind.He inspected my ankle like it was a project, his touch contrasting sharply with his personality. His long fingers trailed gently around the swelling.“Not as noticeable as before,” he murmured, bringing out the ointment. “Hold still.”He instructed quietly and rubbed the ointment onto my swollen ankle. His touch wasn’t… the normal aid type. It was different in a way I didn’t understand.His dark eyes pierced into mine.This time, I didn’t see the Uncle Sebastien I once knew as my father’s friend. I saw a completely different man.And the thought of him being my mother’s husband made my blood boil.“Let go,” I whimpered softly, trying to pull my foot away from him. “Betrayer… fake…”I muttered bitterly, “Fake friend. Marrying your own friend’s wife.”“Ex-wife,” he corre

Sebastien

Uncle Sebastien walked in wearing a plain dark T-shirt that hugged his muscles. I found myself staring more than necessary, and I also noticed Mom staring even more.The flushed look on her face disappeared, and what was left was a smile filled with embarrassment and adoration. The thought and sight of it made me want to puke. I had never and could never imagine my mom looking at someone that way, and neither had she ever looked at my father that way either.He waved his hand dismissively at Chef Klein, who instantly obeyed, wheeling the trolley away from the dining hall. Now, it was just the three of us in the dining hall, with Sebastien glancing at me before softly pulling out a seat.“Well… Sebastien,” she slurred slightly. “You would have told me what you wanted for breakfast.”“Hmm…”He responded nonverbally, holding the warm cup of coffee Klein had brought for him earlier.She continued, “You know, my Dorothy is a ballerina, and what she puts in her mouth matters a lot.” She kep

Mocking. Tempting.

My eyes widened instantly. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.Mother really wanted him to decide my punishment?“W-what? Him?” I blinked repeatedly. “You’re going to let him do it? You?”I stared at her, still struggling to believe she would so easily allow Sebastien to decide my punishment. She never even gave Dad the chance to punish me before. She always called him weak and insisted she was the only person capable of straightening me out.“Don’t tell me you didn’t hear what I just said.”Sebastien didn’t budge. His long fingers remained wrapped around the coffee mug as he took another slow sip, his eyes fixed on mine. There was something challenging in that stare.Mom stood up and grabbed a serviette, wiping her lips slowly.“I’m giving him the honor of deciding your punishment as your new father.”I tightened my grip around the fork, the metal pressing painfully into my palm unintentionally. My palm began to flush red because of it.Sebastien lowered his mug steadily, his hand li

No Protest, OBEY.

He led me through a dark hallway illuminated only by the chandeliers lining the walls. The soft golden lights reflected against the polished floor beneath our feet.He walked ahead of me with his hands behind his back, his posture straight and controlled. His long legs made his pace appear slow, yet I still struggled to keep up with him.Soon, we arrived at a massive door. My eyes couldn’t stop staring at those hands I had seen bruises on earlier. He noticed my gaze slowly lingering on them. He withdrew his hand slightly, grabbed a key from his pocket, and unlocked the door.The door made a soft click before he opened it. As he did, he stepped aside and directed me inside without uttering a word, still wearing that expressionless mask on his older, attractive face.I hesitated, staring at the door, then at him. There was no trace of impatience in his posture. His offer still stood.I took a deep breath and walked into what I would call another world.It was his office. One didn’t nee

Demonstrate It

My eyes sparkled slightly at the sight of the warm color. The color I was forbidden to like, to have, to touch, and to own, for no obvious reason.Now, it sat in front of me mockingly. A perfect contrast to the dark desk it lay on.“Why?” I muttered, staring at the journal.The inner child in me squealed at the sight of it. It was medium-sized and delicate, with details for the days of the week, weather, date, and more on each page.I gulped down my saliva, wondering why he gave this to me and what exactly I was supposed to do with a book.“Your punishment begins with that.” His dark eyes studied my expression and the way my fingers flickered through each page softly.I frowned slightly, confusion masking my stressed face. “My punishment is a book?”Saying it aloud sounded stupid and funny. I had expected worse. I had expected him to yell at me, to punish me in the ways I had always recognized. But him giving me a book was not what I had in mind.Not just a book.A pink journal.“Is t

Hate Him.

“But…” He shunned me with another look, his other hand tapping softly against the rich wooden desk. I swallowed the invisible lump that seemed stuck down my throat. Staying here in this office with him was one thing. But walking closer to him? That was another. “Dorothy…” he called impatiently, glancing at the watch around his wrist. Dorothy, it’s just a punishment. Just go to him. I silently hyped myself up and took shaky steps closer. “Alright?” I confirmed quietly, still standing almost three meters away from him. He didn’t answer. He didn’t even blink. Instead, he looked unimpressed. He didn’t direct me on whether I was doing the right thing or not. Instead, he kept staring intently at me, as though I had done something far worse than yesterday. Yes, I had done wrong. But I didn’t know what I was thinking back then. And somehow, part of me still blamed him for it. The digital clock on the wall ticked slowly. With every passing second, the atmosphere grew thicker. Then h

Pride and Ribbon...

I scribbled aggressively across the pages, my handwriting turning messier with each line.‘I hate him.’I repeated the words several times on each page, bitterly, until I got tired. I stopped and took in a deep breath. The silence in the room filled my ears. The only things I could hear were the beating of my heart and the deep exhales leaving my lips.I stared at the journal, looking at every imprint I had made on the pages. The sour scent of sweat clung to me, mixed with tears I hadn’t even realized had escaped my eyes without crying.My hands shook at every thought running through my head as realization hit me harder. He had been watching my every move, every reaction, the anger strained across my features, even the sweat and tears that had fallen abruptly.He leaned down slightly, pulled open one of the desk drawers in front of him, and brought out a box of wipes. He dropped them smoothly onto the desk, examining me once more. He didn’t point out the aggression in the journal, nei

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