STARK OBSESSION

CHAPTER FIVE

The ride to Stark estate was suffocating.

I sat rigidly in the backseat, hands folded neatly in my lap, trying not to fidget. I couldn’t let Kevin—or worse, Nicole—see me as too relaxed, too confident, or worse, too unbothered. Every muscle in my body was tense, like I was preparing for battle I hadn’t signed up for.

The car slowed as we approached a towering dark blue gate. Beyond it, sprawling lawns, marble fountains, and impossibly large buildings stretched as far as I could see. My chest tightened. I’d seen these places in magazines, on TV, in movies. But being here… it was different. Being here in person was surreal, almost unreal. My stomach twisted with guilt and anxiety. This was not a victory. This was a trap, and I was walking right into it.

The gate rolled open with a low rumble, and the car glided into the compound. At the center sat the Stark estate, massive and imposing. Sleek lines, stark glass walls, and neutral colors—it screamed control, power, and wealth. And I knew instantly that this place was an extension of Nicole Stark himself: cold, precise, and untouchable.

As soon as the car stopped, Nicole stepped out with that effortless dominance he always carried. His eyes barely glanced at me. There was no warmth, no acknowledgment, only the sharp, cutting edge of authority. I swallowed, gripping my bag tighter, refusing to let myself be deluded by the idea of being a “Mrs. Stark” in any traditional sense. He wasn’t married to me willingly, and I wasn’t here by choice either.

I followed Kevin through the front doors, my heels clicking softly against polished marble floors. Inside, everything matched Nicole’s reputation—sleek, minimalistic, black, blue and grey, with every object perfectly placed. Even the massive living room, usually the heart of a home, looked more like a gallery or an exhibit of power than a place to relax.

Kevin led me to a section I hadn’t expected. A hidden door, concealed behind a wall of bookshelves, slid open with a soft mechanical hum when he tapped a series of codes into a virtual touch screen. My jaw dropped. The office beyond was breathtaking. Glass walls, modern furniture, and racks of suits perfectly displayed as though in a designer boutique. I felt a shiver of awe—and fear.

Nicole was already there, seated behind a massive glass desk, fingers flying over a keyboard. The faint hum of technology filled the room. He didn’t even glance up when we entered. Kevin cleared his throat.

“She’s here, sir,” he said quietly.

“Leave us,” Nicole commanded without looking up.

Kevin bowed and left, leaving me standing in the middle of the room, heart pounding.

Nicole finally spoke, calm but icy. “Sign the contract.”

I froze, staring at the papers that had just slid out of a nearby printer. Marriage contract. My mind raced. I had thought Noona’s agreement was enough—but Nicole’s terms were a separate beast entirely.

“I… I need to read it first,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Nicole appeared beside me so suddenly I nearly jumped. His presence was overwhelming, his height, the sharp lines of his face, the piercing blue of his eyes. I felt like a mouse cornered in a lion’s den.

“Kitten,” he said, voice low, dangerous, “do you think hesitation will change anything?”

I shook, clutching the paper. He took a step closer, and my back instinctively pressed against the tall bookshelf behind me. I was trapped. My pulse raced, my hands trembling as I placed the pen on the paper.

“I’ll… I’ll sign,” I stammered, voice shaky. My entire body was on high alert. My survival instincts screamed to run, but there was nowhere to go.

Nicole’s frown deepened, but there was no malice in his actions. He wasn’t going to hit me—he never would—but his gaze alone could break a person. I hurriedly signed, feeling exposed, fragile, and entirely unprepared.

“Done,” I whispered, sliding the paper across the desk.

Nicole snatched it with a single, fluid motion. “Good.” His tone was final, dismissive, leaving no room for argument or negotiation.

I exhaled sharply, feeling a mix of relief and panic. I had survived the first encounter—but at what cost? Every instinct in me screamed that this was only the beginning.

Before I could collect myself, I turned to leave—but Kevin blocked my path. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, calm but firm.

“I want to leave. Please step aside,” I begged, desperation rising in my chest. I was suffocating in this house, this life that wasn’t mine.

Kevin’s face remained impassive. “My duty doesn’t allow it, Ms. Olive.”

I wanted to scream, to fight, to storm out and never look back. But I knew it was useless. The Stark estate wasn’t just a home—it was a fortress. And I was a guest with no freedom.

Resigned, I followed him deeper into the mansion, heart pounding, hands trembling, already plotting my next move. I wouldn’t stay a pawn forever.

Not if I could help it.