HIS FRAGILE OBSESSION

Chapter 6

A sharp, heavy pain throbbed behind Hazel’s eyes as she slowly woke up from the darkness.

She let out a soft, strained groan, her fingers digging hard into her forehead as her eyelashes fluttered open. The room was bathed in a harsh, blinding morning light that burned her eyes. But as the haze slowly cleared, her chest seized up and her breath caught dead in her throat.

She wasn't in the grand guest suite at Nicholas's estate anymore.

She was lying on her own mattress, inside her own 12th-floor executive apartment.

"What...?" Hazel rasped, her throat bone - dry. She pushed herself up, her head spinning wildly as the room tilted under her.

She looked down at her chest, she was still wrapped in her plush white bathrobe, the soft fabric smelling faintly of the rain from last night and something low, woodsy, and intoxicatingly masculine. A sudden wave of panic clawed at her throat. How did I get here? Who brought me back?

Frantically, she searched her mind for answers, but her memory fractured after the blackout. The last thing she remembered was the heavy, metallic click of the door knob, the towering shadow closing in, and that sickeningly cold, raspy voice against her ear. After that... pure, suffocating darkness.

Swinging her legs over the edge, her bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor.

"Is... anyone here?" she called out, her voice barely a trembling whisper into the eerie stillness.

Silence was her only response. She walked cautiously through the hallway, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird.

The living room was quiet. Everything was pristine, exactly as Nicholas’s team had arranged it.

Except for one chilling detail.

Hazel stopped dead in her tracks near the glass coffee table.

Resting right in the center was a clear crystal vase holding a single, flawless white rose. Its velvety petals were still glistening with fresh, heavy droplets of water.

Hazel stared at it, an ice-cold shiver crawling straight down her spine. She hadn't bought any flowers. There were no roses in her apartment when she left yesterday evening.

Before her mind could spiral into absolute terror, her eyes flicked to the digital clock on the wall.

9:42 AM.

Hazel’s blood ran cold for a completely different reason. "Oh God... No, no, no!"

Office started at 9:00 AM sharp. Nicholas Vance was a man who demanded ruthless perfection, which explained why no personal secretary ever lasted with him. And here she was, over an hour late on her very second day!

Ignoring her throbbing headache, Hazel scrambled into overdrive. She threw on a sharp corporate suit, tied her hair back with shaking hands, grabbed her bag, and rushed out the door.

Thirty minutes later, Hazel burst through the towering glass doors of Vance Enterprises.

As she hurried toward the executive elevators, the heavy atmosphere in the lobby hit her like a physical wall. The receptionists and

Senior executives were whispering in tight, hushed clusters. The moment her heels clicked past them, the chatter abruptly died.

Dozens of eyes followed her every step, some filled with sharp curiosity, others with low, envious mutters behind raised folders.

Why is everyone staring at me like that? Hazel thought, her cheeks burning crimson. Is it because I'm late... or did something happen last night?

Holding her breath, she rode the private elevator straight to the top floor and approached the frosted-glass double doors of Nicholas

Vance’s private suite. Her palms were slick with cold sweat. She raised her hand to knock.

"Come in, Hazel."

Nicholas’s deep, rich baritone cut through the glass before her knuckles could even touch the door.

Hazel pushed the glass door open, stepping into the vast, sun-drenched office.

Nicholas sat behind his mahogany desk, looking lethal and immaculate in a dark charcoal suit. He set his tablet down slowly, his dark, impenetrable eyes locking onto her face with an intensity that made the air feel instantly thinner, suffocatingly close.

"S-Sir... I am so deeply sorry I'm late," Hazel stammered, her fingers tightening around her handbag. "I don't know how I overslept, I woke up in my apartment and..."

"How is your head?" Nicholas interrupted softly.

His voice wasn't angry; it was dangerously low, carrying a heavy, quiet weight.

Hazel blinked, taken aback. "My... head?"

"You fainted at the estate last night," Nicholas said, leaning back in his leather chair, his dark gaze tracing every micro-expression on her pale face. "Do you remember anything after that?"

Hazel swallowed hard, stepping closer to the desk. "I... I honestly don't remember how I ended up back in my apartment, sir.

Everything is a complete blank after I changed into my bathrobe."

Nicholas remained silent. A heavy, suffocating beat passed between them as his eyes searched hers, searching for any flicker of a lie.

Anxiety spiking, Hazel raised her right hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. As her sleeve slid down, the harsh overhead lights illuminated the distinct, purplish-red mark wrapping brutally around her delicate wrist.

Nicholas’s eyes snapped down to her arm like a hawk.

A sharp crease formed between his dark brows, his expression darkening instantly. "Where did you get that bruise?"

Hazel froze, looking down at her own arm. The moment she saw the angry, distorted mark on her skin, a sudden, terrifying memory flickered in her brain.

"I... I don't know," Hazel breathed out, her pulse racing wildly. "All I remember is standing near the window... someone opened the door. I couldn't see his face because of the storm, but there was a shadowed figure. He came close and grabbed my arm so tightly... That must be how it happened. But after that, my vision went black."

She winced, pressing her palm against her forehead as a sudden wave of nausea and dizziness washed over her.

Seeing her sway, Nicholas moved.

In one fluid, powerful motion, he stood up from his chair, bypassed his desk, and closed the distance between them. Before Hazel could fall, his warm, broad, warm hand steadied her by the waist, his lingering touch sending a sharp, quiet electrical charge through her skin.

"Sit," Nicholas commanded gently, guiding her firmly into the plush leather armchair.

He walked over to the marble side-table, poured a glass of chilled water, and held it out to her. Hazel took it with trembling hands, sipping it slowly under his towering, protective shadow.

"If you are still unwell, you don't need to push yourself," Nicholas murmured, his voice dropping into a rare, velvet roughness.

"There is a private suite attached to my office. Go lie down."

Hazel looked up into his deep, piercing eyes, deeply moved by the quiet warmth hidden behind his ruthless exterior. She shook her head softly, a faint, resolute smile touching her pale lips.

"No, sir. Thank you, but I can't," she said, her voice regaining its quiet strength. "We have three major international contracts to finalize today, and your entire schedule depends on me. If I go rest, who will manage it all? A strong coffee will do the trick."

Nicholas stared down at her, his dark eyes burning with an undeniable, fierce admiration for her spirit.

"Very well," Nicholas murmured, a rare, breathtaking smirk gracing his sharp lips. "Just don't make me carry you a second time."

He turned and strode back to his desk, leaving Hazel’s heart fluttering wildly in her chest.

Feeling grounded, Hazel pulled out her official executive tablet and began cross-referencing his appointments. The massive office settled into a heavy, comfortable rhythm, filled only with the soft rustle of documents and the rhythmic tapping of her fingers.

Nearly twenty minutes in, a sharp notification chimed.

An encrypted internal security log was automatically pushed to her secretary portal from Vance Enterprises' private network.

Hazel tapped the file. Her fingers froze midair.

As she scrolled down the private security feeds, a flagged, red alert caught her eye, a timestamped entry from her residential building’s basement garage from late last night.

According to the official surveillance log, a sleek, unmarked luxury car had entered her private garage at 4:15 AM during the height of the storm.

The license plate was completely unlisted.

Hazel’s eyes darted further down the report. Attached to the entry was a brief, flagged audio transcript captured by the security gate’s microphone. A low, raspy voice speaking directly to the night guard:

“I’m just dropping off what belongs to me.”

Hazel’s blood ran completely cold. The tablet almost slipped from her numb fingers as a wave of pure, agonizing horror washed over her.

4:15 AM...

According to the official log, the car had entered her basement garage at 4:15 AM in the middle of the storm.

And as her eyes moved further down the report, a small, tiny detail at the bottom made her heart completely stop.

Vehicle exit time: 8:15 AM.

A cold wave of horror rushed through her body.

Whoever brought her back...had stayed inside her apartment with her all night while she lay unconscious. They had left just 1 hour before she woke up.

Her eyes froze on the screen, her mind spinning into complete panic.

"Hazel?"

A deep, commanding voice suddenly cut through the air.

Hazel didn't react. Her mind was trapped in the terrifying realization of what had happened in her apartment while she slept.

"Hazel."

Nicholas's voice was lower this time, sharp and stern.

Hazel snapped back to reality with a violent start. She flinched, looking up frantically. Nicholas was standing right in front of her desk, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his dark eyes studying her face with intense focus.

"S…Sir!" Hazel gasped out, her heart hammering against her ribs. She quickly pressed the tablet face - down against her lap. "Yes?" Did you say something?"

Nicholas’s brows pulled together in a subtle crease. "I asked for the revised quarterly reports for the Tokyo board meeting." He leaned down slightly, resting one hand on the edge of her desk. "Where were you lost just now? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I... I am so sorry, sir!" Hazel stammered, swallowing the lump in her throat as she forced a tight, reassuring smile. "I was just... double-checking the figures in my head to make sure there were no mistakes. I got a bit carried away."

She quickly pulled up the requested file on her tablet and handed it to him with trembling fingers. "Here are the Tokyo reports, fully updated."

Nicholas took the tablet, his gaze lingering on her pale face for a second longer, as if trying to read through her forced smile.

"Don't push yourself too hard," Nicholas said quietly, his tone softening slightly before he turned back toward his desk.

Hazel let out a quiet, shaky breath, leaning back into her chair. But as soon as Nicholas sat down, her mind pulled her right back into the terrifying darkness of her thoughts.

She looked down at her lap, her hands shaking violently.

Who was in my apartment all night.... while I slept? And why did they leave a white rose?