Bound by Obsession
593 Words
The night was eerily quiet. Too quiet.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling of our massive penthouse, my billionaire husband sleeping peacefully beside me. The weight of the world sat on my chest. Something wasn’t right.
At first, it had been easy to dismiss my ex’s desperate attempts to reach me—blocked numbers, anonymous DMs, even handwritten letters slipped into my car. But then, the strange things started happening.
The same black SUV parked across the street for days. The unsettling messages warning me about Lucas. And then the letter to my father’s company.
"You stole my future. Now I’ll take everything from you."
I didn’t want to believe it, but when private photos of me and Lucas from our honeymoon leaked online—intimate, personal—I knew my ex had crossed a line.
When I showed Lucas the leaked pictures, his reaction was swift. Cold. Calculated. Deadly.
"You should have told me sooner," he muttered, dialing a number. His voice was dangerously calm.
The next few days were a whirlwind. Lucas doubled our security, installed surveillance cameras everywhere, and made it clear I was never to respond to my ex again. "I'll handle this," he said.
But I didn’t realize how far he was willing to go.
One night, Lucas disappeared without explanation. When he came back, his knuckles were raw and bruised, his white shirt slightly torn.
"Where were you?" I asked, my heart pounding.
His cold blue eyes met mine. "You don’t have to worry about him anymore."
The next morning, breaking news exploded across the internet:
"Billionaire Heiress’s Ex-Boyfriend Found Beaten in Hotel Parking Lot – Suspects Unknown."
My stomach twisted. Did Lucas do this?
I wanted to ask, to demand answers, but something in his gaze warned me not to.
I never got the chance.
That night, I was walking to my car when everything went black.
A rough hand grabbed me, a bag shoved over my head. I screamed, but a deep voice growled, "Shut up!" before shoving me into a van.
My world spun as I struggled, my wrists tied, my breathing uneven. When the bag was yanked off, my ex stood before me.
His once-handsome face was bruised, rage burning in his eyes.
"You thought you could just replace me?" he spat. "You’re mine. You always were."
Terror gripped me. He had been planning this.
Before I could react, gunshots echoed through the warehouse.
Masked men stormed the building, moving with deadly precision. Chaos erupted—my ex fought back, but he was outnumbered. Within minutes, he was on the ground, bloodied and unconscious.
And then Lucas walked in.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t flinch. His cold gaze landed on my ex before he delivered a final blow, knocking him out completely.
Then, he turned to me.
"No one touches what’s mine."
Days passed, but the terror never faded.
I should have been relieved. My ex was gone. Lucas had saved me. But something felt... off.
Lucas was different now—more possessive, more protective. He barely let me out of his sight, his grip on my waist firmer, his kisses more demanding.
And then, I started feeling sick.
Nausea. Dizziness. Late period.
My heart pounded as I took the pregnancy test.
Two lines.
I couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a contract marriage. A temporary arrangement.
I wasn’t supposed to fall in love.
And now, I was carrying his child.
That night, I gathered my courage and told Lucas the truth.
His reaction wasn’t what I expected.
- Writer
