WHEN OBSESSION GOES WRONG

5

Chapter 5

Ana's pov

My buzzing cellphone forced me awake the next morning. Every muscle in my body ached, a heavy, throbbing reminder of the signed contract, and the ruthless man who had collected his first payment on it.

After the blinding intensity of last night, Dr. Cornwell hadn't allowed me to sleep in his silk sheets. He had coldly ordered his private driver to transport me back to my shared apartment overnight, ensuring I wouldn’t miss my mandatory hospital shift.

I was exhausted, but the moment I unlocked my phone, a notification from the Fairview medical team made the sacrifice worth it: Patient Williams has been safely transferred to the private facility. Pre-op preparations underway.

Before I could even process the relief, the phone vibrated in my palm again. The caller ID read Dr. Cornwell.

I pulled the phone to my ear, my voice raspy. "Hello?"

“Seven minutes late to answer, Ana,” his voice came through the speaker. It sounded remarkably normal, lacking the rough, early morning gravel I had expected. “I trust my driver returned you in one piece?”

“I'm fine,” I murmured,rubbing my temple while sitting up before pulling the blanket over my bare chest. “Thank you for moving Mr. Williams so quickly.”

“Do not mistake efficiency for kindness. I am simply securing my investment,” he replied coldly.

I said nothing, and he took that as a go ahead in his end.

“According to clause six of the document you signed, you are required to relocate to the estate permanently. I have already chartered a private car to commute you back and forth for the remainder of your hospital internship. My driver will pick you up this evening. Have your bags packed.”

It wasn't a request. It was an absolute command.

“Tonight? But I need time to—”

“You have no time to negotiate, Ana. You belong to me now. Act like it.” The line went dead.

I stared at the screen, my heart hammering against my ribs. The cold, possessive reality of what I had done finally settled into my bones. He wasn't a savior, nothing close to that. He was my captor. A cold, final one.

Steeling myself, I took a frantic fifteen-minute shower to wash away the lingering scent of his expensive cologne. I pulled on a pair of dark blue jeans and a light blue top, tying my hair back into a quick ponytail. Luckily, my roommate was fast asleep, sparing me from any prying eyes.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the front door, but before my hand could touch the lock, a heavy, demanding knock rattled the wood.

I checked the time. Seven-thirty. Too early for Cornwell's driver or whoever was at the door.

When I swung the door open, my blood ran cold. Casper walked straight past me into the apartment, his face set in a rigid expression, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He scanned the small living room with an entitled familiarity that made my stomach turn.

“I tried to call you,” Casper said, his tone biting and cold. “But my calls are bouncing.”

I closed the door, leaning against it as I stared at him with pure disgust. After facing a predator like Dr. Cornwell, Casper’s pathetic attempts at intimidation felt laughably small.

“I blocked you,” I said flatly, keeping my voice dead of any emotion. “We are done, Casper. Get out of my apartment.”

Casper took a deep breath, looking away in silent contemplation. Clearly, he hadn't expected such a definitive move from me.

“Look, Ana,” his voice dropped to a low, pleading register. “I know I messed up, but...”

“But what?” I challenged, crossing my arms.

He inhaled deeply again, as if carefully calculating his next words. “We can still happen,” he finally announced.

“Excuse you?” I exclaimed, a harsh laugh escaping me. The man was out of his damn mind.

“Yes.” He moved closer, reaching out to grasp my arm.

I instantly stepped away, avoiding his touch.

“Touch me, and I’ll ensure you regret it,” I snapped, violently flinching away from his hand. “Are you delusional? You were rutting like an animal with another woman. There is no us.”

Casper’s face contorted, his desperation finally breaking through his arrogant facade. “Look, my mum...” he paused, his gaze drifting briefly toward the floor before returning to mine. “She asked about you the other day. Your absence hasn't gone unnoticed, and I can't keep lying to her.”

Lady Rosewell had clearly missed my presence around the estate. But why the hell should I care? Her son had cheated on me on the eve of our public announcement.

“Well, tell your mom we are over,” I said flatly.

His eyes widened in sudden panic. “You know I can't do that. I would lose...” He swallowed hard, the words temporarily sticking in his throat before he forced them out. “...my inheritance.”

A bitter, cynical laugh escaped my lips. I looked him dead in the eye, realizing with absolute clarity that it had never been about losing me—it was about losing his trust fund.

“Go f**k yourself, Casper,” I whispered, venom dripping from every syllable. “I am not your puppet, and I am certainly not the girl you can use to secure your money. Tell your mother whatever lies you want. We are over.”

Without giving him a chance to speak, I ripped the door open and walked out, leaving him standing alone in my apartment. I didn't care about his anger or his inheritance. For the first time in weeks, the pain of his betrayal felt distanced.

Despite the delay, I made it to the psychology clinic exactly on time. The hours dragged by in a blur of patient observations and intake notes, my mind constantly drifting back to paragraph five of Cornwell's contract. By the time my shift finally ended, I was running on pure adrenaline.

When I returned to the shared apartment to grab my suitcase, the air felt thick with tension. I quickly made myself a basic sandwich to quiet my growling stomach, Casper’s selfish words echoing in my head. He was a bastard, through and through.

Suddenly, a firm, authoritative knock echoed from the front door.

Thinking it was Cornwell’s driver, I hurried over and swung it open, only to freeze. Standing in the hallway was a tall, imposing figure neatly draped in an elegant black wool coat that cascaded to her knees. Clutching her signature black designer bag, Lady Rosewell stood before me.

Even in her late fifties, Casper’s mother carried an immense, terrifying aura of aristocratic power. She stepped into the room without waiting for an invitation.

“You look stressed, Ana. It's clear you haven't been taking care of yourself,” she remarked, her tone smooth but inherently calculating.

“The internship has been demanding, Lady Rosewell,” I replied stiffly, keeping my distance.

“Understood,” she said, her sharp gaze locking onto mine with absolute purpose. “We are hosting a formal family dinner tomorrow evening to honor my brother, who has finally agreed to return home from abroad. You should come.”

A cold wave of uneasiness crashed into my chest. Casper’s warning from this morning flashed in my mind. She didn't know we broke up yet.

“I appreciate the invitation, but I can't—”

“No excuses, darling,” she cut me off instantly, bridging the gap between us. Her taller frame towered over me, radiating unyielding expectation. She reached out, her perfectly manicured palm resting against my cheek with a smile that felt more like a trap than a comfort. “You’re family now, Ana. Remember that.”

My heart sank straight to the floor.

Family? Casper and I were completely over. What on earth did she mean by family?