The obsession
481 Words
Damian’s pov
The silence of my penthouse felt louder than the chaos of the city below. Every ticking second of the clock on the wall only added to the pressure already building inside me.
I’d always prided myself on being a man who knew everything—my world ran on secrets, and I was the one who uncovered them before anyone else dared to whisper them aloud. Yet, for the first time in years, I was being deceived. And not just by anyone—by her.
Calla Monroe.
The woman who had once been mine in every way that mattered.
And now… the mother of a little boy who looked too damn much like me to be a coincidence.
I leaned back on the couch, loosening the cuffs of my shirt, but it did nothing to ease the tightness coiling in my chest. The image of Lucas’s eyes burned into me. Blue—clear, piercing, familiar. My mother’s eyes. My grandmother’s. My bloodline.
I couldn’t let it go.
I’d had my suspicions before, but tonight, I was certain. The boy was mine.
“Four years, Calla,” I muttered under my breath. “You kept him from me for four damn years.”
My jaw tightened as anger rushed hot through my veins. How many nights had I searched for her after she vanished? How many endless days had I wondered where she’d gone, if she was safe, if she was even alive? And all that time… she was raising my son in the shadows. Alone.
A knock at the door jolted me back. Ethan, my right-hand man, stepped in without waiting for permission.
“You asked me to run a background check,” he said quietly, placing a folder on the table.
My heart slammed in my chest. I snapped the folder open and scanned the documents.
Calla Monroe. Moved frequently. Jobs under different names. No permanent address until recently. Every trace screamed one thing—she had been hiding.
And Lucas… Lucas Monroe.
I clenched the page in my hand so tightly it nearly tore. She hadn’t even given him my name.
The rage inside me wasn’t just about the betrayal—it was about the years I’d lost. His first steps. His first words. The nights he cried and she was there instead of me.
I shoved the folder aside and stood, pacing across the room like a caged predator.
This wasn’t just about anger anymore. It was about possession.
Calla thought she could run, but she had underestimated me. She always had.
Now that I knew the truth, there was no force in this world that would keep me from my son.
Or from her.
Because she was still mine. She had always been mine.
And if she thought I would allow her to walk away again, she was about to learn just how wrong she was.
- Writer
