Todos los capítulos de My Possessive CEO (Can love conquer pain?): Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 60

“Don’t move.”Her voice is barely above a whisper—but it stops me anyway.Not because of the words.Because of the way she says them.Careful.Measured.Like she’s holding something back.Something that could snap if I take one more step.So I don’t.I stay exactly where I am.Across the room.Far enough not to trigger whatever is inside her—Close enough to see everything.Every breath.Every twitch.Every change.And I watch.Because that’s what she asked for.No—that’s what she needs.“Good,” she murmurs when I don’t move.Her shoulders drop slightly.Just enough to notice.Just enough to matter.But her eyes—They’re still wrong.Not empty.Not panicked.Alert.Too alert.Like she’s aware of more than just this room.“You’re learning,” she says suddenly.My gaze sharpens.“Learning what?”“How to stay still.”“I already knew how.”“No,” she shakes her head faintly. “Not like this.”A pause.Then—“This is restraint.”Silence settles again.Because she’s right.This—standing her

“Don’t touch that—”Too late.The screen glitches.Then—everything goes black.Every monitor.Every feed.Every connection.Gone.“What just happened?” my assistant snaps.No one answers.Because we all see it at the same time—the single line of text that replaces everything.YOU’RE GETTING CLOSE.Silence drops like a blade.Cold.Intentional.Watching.I step forward slowly, eyes fixed on the message.“Trace it.”“We’re trying,” the tech replies, fingers flying. “But it’s not coming from a single source.”“Explain.”“It’s… layered,” he says, confused. “Like multiple networks stacked over each other.”My jaw tightens.Of course.Adrian doesn’t build systems.He builds mazes.“Show me everything,” I say.The screen flickers again—then fractures into dozens of smaller windows.Each one—a different location.A warehouse.A hospital wing.An abandoned office.A nightclub.A security hub.All live.All active.All connected.“Jesus…” someone mutters.“No,” I correct quietly.“This is hi

“No—don’t—please—!”I wake up screaming.The sound rips out of me before I can stop it—raw, broken, not quiet enough.My body jerks upright.Breath—gone.Chest—tight.Hands—shaking.I don’t know where I am.Dark.Cold.Wrong.My eyes dart around the room—walls—door—window—shadows that look like people until they move—until I realize they’re not moving.I am.I’m the one shaking.“Stop…” I whisper, grabbing my head. “Stop—stop—stop—”But it doesn’t.It never does.Because the moment I close my eyes—I’m back there.—Metal.Cold against my skin.Wrists pinned.Ankles strapped.I pull.Nothing.I scream.No sound.Only that hum—low—constant—inside my head.“Again,” a voice says.Calm.Patient.Familiar.Too familiar.“No—please—no more—”“Again.”Pain.Sharp.Blinding.Every nerve lighting up at once—like my body isn’t mine anymore—like it belongs to something else—something they’re rewriting.“Subject A-17 responding.”“I told you—she adapts.”“Push further.”“I won’t—”Shoc

“Put me down.”The words come out cold.Flat.Nothing like before.My grip tightens instinctively—then loosens just enough to set her on her feet.Slowly.Carefully.Because something is wrong.Not the obvious kind.Worse.Quieter.She steps back immediately.Distance.Deliberate.Calculated.Her eyes meet mine—and I feel it.The shift.Gone is the panic.Gone is the desperation.What’s left is something sharper.Colder.Controlled.“You shouldn’t have touched me,” she says.No tremble.No fear.Just fact.“You were unconscious,” I reply.“That doesn’t change the rule.”“It does when it’s necessary.”Her lips press together.Disapproval.Not relief.“You broke it,” she says.“And I’d do it again.”Silence.Heavy.Because she hears that.Understands it.And doesn’t like it.“That’s exactly the problem,” she murmurs.My jaw tightens.“Explain.”“You don’t listen.”“I do.”“No,” she shakes her head faintly. “You hear. But you don’t listen.”A pause.Then—“You decided what was best for

“Move.”The word isn’t loud—but it echoes.Commands the room.And they obey.All of them.At once.One step forward.Perfectly synchronized.Perfectly controlled.Not human.Not anymore.My grip tightens around the weapon—then loosens.Because bullets won’t solve this.Not like this.Too many.Too coordinated.Too precise.This isn’t a fight.It’s a system.And systems—they break differently.Another step.Closer.Their eyes don’t blink.Don’t shift.Locked on me like I’m already a target.Good.That makes it simple.“You’re watching,” I say into the silence.No response.Of course not.Then—a flicker.High above.A shadow shifts behind reinforced glass.There.Found you.“Adrian.”A pause.Then—a slow clap echoes through hidden speakers.“You adapt quickly,” his voice hums through the space.“I don’t adapt,” I reply. “I dismantle.”A soft laugh.“We’ll see.”The lights dim.Just slightly.But enough.Enough to distort shadows.Enough to blur edges.Enough to change perception.T