Bound By Obsession

I swear my chest cracked open the second I saw him. Alejandro. My Alejandro. Except… no. Not mine anymore. He was standing there at the altar, looking like every bad-boy dream wrapped in a tux. Black hair slicked back, tattoos peeking out from under the cuffs, that stupid smirk like he owned the world. And beside him, her. Carmen. My best friend since middle school. My “ride or die.” The girl I used to share fries with after school, whispering about the boys who would break our hearts. Guess the joke’s on me, huh? She looked so smug in her white dress, like she’d stolen something priceless and wanted the whole world to see it. And maybe she had. The room blurred around me. Applause, whispers, the pastor’s voice, it all turned to static in my head. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. And the worst part? They both knew I was there. They wanted me to see this. I should’ve run. Walked out with my head high, middle finger in the air. That would’ve been the smart thing, the strong thing. But I stayed. Like an i***t. Like some ghost sitting in the back pew, invisible while my entire world was ripped apart. He kissed her, slow and deliberate. Her hands clutched his neck like she’d won. And I sat there, my palms bleeding from how hard I dug my nails into my skin just to keep from screaming. Once, he told me he’d marry me. Whispered it against my neck in some cheap apartment, smelling like gasoline and whiskey. And I’d believed him. Because I was desperate to believe in something. Anything. And now? Now I was just the girl who got replaced. The reception was worse. Music. Champagne. Fake laughter that scraped my ears raw. I stood in the shadows while Carmen twirled in her designer heels and Alejandro laughed like nothing in the world had ever been ugly. Everyone clapped, everyone toasted. And no one noticed me, not really. Just Isabella Cruz, the unwanted guest. When he finally looked at me across the room, I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d see regret. Something human. But no! His eyes slid over me like I was nothing. A mistake he’d already erased. God, I hated him in that moment. I hated her more. The worst blow didn’t come until the night ended. Until I dragged myself back to the tiny apartment I called home and found them waiting. Not Alejandro. Not Carmen. No. My family. My so-called family. “Pack your things,” my adoptive father said, his voice flat like it was business, not my life. I blinked, still reeling from the wedding. “What? Why?” My adoptive mother didn’t even look at me. She shoved a folder across the counter. Numbers. Signatures. Debt. “Romano Enterprises is calling in what’s owed,” she said. “And since you’re the only thing we have left to give…” She shrugged. Like she was offering up an old chair, not her daughter. My chest hollowed out. “You’re… selling me?” “Don’t be dramatic, Isabella,” she snapped. “You’ll work it off. Better you than us.” I wanted to scream, to beg, to fight. But I didn’t. Because something in me broke the second Alejandro kissed Carmen, and there wasn’t enough left to fight with. So I packed. One bag. A few dresses. Shoes that didn’t even match. And when the black car pulled up at midnight, I climbed inside. The city blurred past, neon lights bleeding into shadows. I pressed my forehead to the window and thought about all the stupid things I’d lost. My dignity. My so-called best friend. The boy I thought was love. My family, who clearly never wanted me in the first place. I should’ve cried. But there were no tears left. Just this dull ache, this buzzing emptiness. Somewhere in the distance, Milan glittered like a promise I didn’t believe in. The car pulled up to a glass skyscraper that sliced the night sky in half. Romano Enterprises. The name alone was heavy. Dangerous. The driver opened the door, and I stumbled out, clutching my bag like it could shield me from whatever waited inside. The lobby was all marble and silence, cold enough to freeze the breath in my lungs. And then I saw him. Matteo Romano. The man who owned this empire. He was nothing like Alejandro. No tattoos, no smirk. Just precision. Cold. Tailored suit sharp enough to cut. Eyes like winter storms, grey, merciless, unreadable. He didn’t smile. He didn’t even blink. He just looked at me like I was already something broken on his floor. “So this is the debt,” he said, voice low, accented, smooth like velvet wrapped around steel. I swallowed hard. My throat burned. “I… I didn’t choose this.” His lip curled, the faintest mockery of a smile. “You think that matters?” The room tilted. My legs went soft, like they didn’t get the memo. And then he stepped closer, the scent of expensive cologne and something darker clinging to him. His gaze pinned me like a knife to the wall. “You belong to me now, Isabella Cruz.” My heart stopped. The words cut deeper than Alejandro’s betrayal, deeper than Carmen’s smirk. Because this wasn’t just heartbreak. This was ownership. A cage with glass walls and no escape. And the worst part? Some reckless, broken piece of me wanted to know what it meant.