his bride, my obsession

The setup

Author's pov

The morning began like any other, but there was something different in the air—something Damien couldn’t quite name. The sky outside the glass walls of his office was painted grey, and the silence around him was almost too sharp to be peaceful. He was already irritated—late meetings, endless paperwork, and the heavy weight of responsibility pressing against his chest.

What he didn’t know was that Aaron had already set the trap.

Aaron’s smirk widened as he watched the plan take shape. “You’ll get your payment once he’s... distracted,” he said, sliding an envelope full of cash across the table. The girl, Selene, nodded. She knew what she was being paid for—to get close enough to make Damien look guilty. And there was another man—a hidden cameraman, positioned in the corner of the office behind tinted glass, pretending to fix electrical wires. He was there to capture everything.

By afternoon, Damien entered the workroom. His sleeves were rolled up, veins visible on his hands as he flipped through documents. The tension in his jaw was evident—he hadn’t slept properly in days. That was when Selene walked in.

“Mr. Damien,” she said softly, her tone far too sweet to sound professional. “You asked for the new project files?”

Damien looked up, barely glancing at her. “Keep them on the desk,” he said, his voice cold and clipped. He was focused, trying to calculate figures on his laptop.

But Selene didn’t leave. Instead, she stepped closer—too close. Her perfume hit him first—something floral and heavy. She placed the files down slowly, her hand brushing against his.

Damien’s brows furrowed. “What are you doing?”

Selene smiled faintly, tilting her head. “You work too much, sir. You should relax a little…”

Before he could react, she leaned in—her hand tracing the edge of his collar, her lips dangerously near his ear. Damien froze in disbelief, stepping back sharply.

“Stop it,” he said firmly. “You’re crossing a line.”

But Selene didn’t stop. She followed him, pretending to trip, grabbing his arm for support. From the camera’s angle, it looked like Damien was pulling her close. She gasped dramatically, making it appear like a struggle.

“Selene—enough!” he growled, trying to push her away.

That was exactly when the cameraman recorded the perfect frame—Damien’s hand gripping her wrist, her body leaning back as if she were being overpowered.

Selene’s fake cries echoed faintly, perfectly rehearsed.

Within an hour, the edited video was sent.

Aaron smirked at the final cut. The scene was framed to make Damien look like the monster—his face twisted in anger, his hand gripping Selene’s arm, and her frightened expression completing the lie.

By evening, Elena’s phone buzzed.

She was sitting quietly in the living room, waiting for Damien to return. Her heart softened just thinking about him. She missed his warmth, the way he smiled only for her. But then her screen lit up—a message from an unknown number.

“You should see what your fiancé does when you’re not around.”

Her fingers trembled as she tapped the link.

The video began.

At first, she saw Damien’s face—sharp, furious, unrecognizable. Then the girl, Selene, struggling, his hand on her arm. Her eyes widened, her stomach twisting painfully.

“No…” she whispered, voice cracking.

Her heart pounded violently as the video continued—Selene crying, Damien’s hand gripping her shoulder, his lips moving but no sound coming through. It looked like assault.

Tears filled her eyes instantly. She wanted to stop watching, but she couldn’t. Her brain screamed that it couldn’t be real—but her heart was breaking anyway.

By the time Damien entered the house that night, Elena’s hands were shaking. The phone lay on the couch beside her, the screen still showing the last frame of the video.

When she looked up at him, her eyes were filled with disbelief, pain, and silent accusation. Damien froze at the doorway, confused by her pale face and trembling lips.

“Elena?” he whispered, taking a cautious step forward.

Her tears fell freely now. “Don’t… don’t come near me.”

The words hit him like a bullet. His chest tightened, his breath shallow. “What happened?”

She swallowed hard, her voice trembling. “Just tell me one thing, Damien… why did you do that to her?”

He frowned, eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

She threw the phone toward him. The screen replayed the video. Damien’s face drained of color as he saw himself in the distorted footage. He clenched his fists.

“That’s not what it looks like!” he said hoarsely, stepping closer.

Elena shook her head, stepping back until her spine hit the wall. “It looks exactly like what it is.”

The air between them cracked with silence—cold, painful, unbearable.

Damien’s jaw tightened as realization hit him. Someone had set him up. And deep down, he already knew who.

Aaron.