Obsession

3. Strangers Under One Roof

Alana’s POV

I woke up with a pounding headache, my eyes swollen from all the tears I had shed last night. My chest felt heavy, as though someone had placed a rock inside it. I still couldn’t believe the truth staring back at me—I was Mrs. Salvatore, not Mrs. Richard.

All my dreams, the beautiful life I had imagined with Dan, had been torn to pieces like fragile glass underfoot. I grabbed my phone with trembling fingers, dialing Dan’s number. It rang once before cutting off. Switched off. Again. And again.

Frustration boiled inside me. Why, Dan? Why did you do this to me?

I forced myself to move, heading toward the washroom to finally change out of this suffocating bridal gown. But then something struck me—

“Where is my suitcase?” I whispered in panic.

I tore through the room, opening cupboards, checking under the bed, but nothing. Not a single trace of my belongings. My heart sank. I was still trapped in my bridal dress, as though mocking me.

I marched toward his room, ready to demand answers. But just as I reached for the doorknob, the door swung open, and I collided with him.

I lost my balance, but before I could hit the ground, strong arms caught me. His touch was steady, almost too steady. For a few seconds, his eyes locked with mine. They weren’t gentle—they were cold, unreadable, like he was studying me rather than seeing me.

“Can’t you see?” His irritated tone snapped me out of it.

Am I going to live like this, walking on eggshells around him?

“I’m sorry,” I whispered as he set me back on my feet.

“What do you want?” His voice was clipped, businesslike.

“I… I can’t find my suitcase. Do you know where it is?” I asked hesitantly.

“I forgot to pick it up from the plane. I’ll tell my guard to bring it. Till then—” He cut himself off, disappeared into his room, and returned moments later with clothes in his hands. “Wear this for now.”

I looked down at the oversized shirt and trousers. They were clearly his, far too big for me. Still, it was better than being stuck in a bridal dress that now felt like chains.

“Thanks,” I muttered, hurrying away.

Inside the washroom, I clutched the clothes to my chest, staring at my reflection in the mirror. How did my life change overnight? The girl staring back at me looked broken, unrecognizable.

When I stepped out, wrapped in just a towel, fate mocked me again—he was there. His body went rigid, and he turned sharply, facing away.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered quickly.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, clutching the towel tighter.

“Actually,” he said, still facing away, “I just wanted to say—I’m going to the office. Tell the maid what you want for breakfast and dinner. She’ll make anything. And your suitcase will arrive by evening.”

“Okay,” I replied softly.

He started to leave, but suddenly turned back. His steps were quick and deliberate, and my heart stuttered. I stepped back in fear, but instead of coming at me, he bent down and picked up a broken frame from the floor.

“I know this room is yours now, but that doesn’t mean you can throw away my things.” His tone was sharp, accusing.

Guilt hit me. Last night, in my rage, I had thrown everything around.

“I… I’m sorry,” I murmured, lowering my eyes. My voice trembled—I was scared of him, of his temper. He said nothing more and left, the frame in his hand.

Only when he was gone did I realize I had been holding my breath.

Later, I came downstairs, wearing only his shirt. The trousers were far too long, so I hadn’t bothered. The shirt barely covered my thighs. Humiliating, Alana. Just humiliating.

Damn it. He was still there.

Before I could retreat, his eyes flicked up, catching me. But instead of reacting, he ignored me and focused on his food. I let out a shaky sigh and walked toward the table.

“What would you like to eat, ma’am?” the maid asked kindly.

“Just an omelette with bread,” I said quietly.

I was about to sit when I felt his eyes on me again—sharp, unwavering. His gaze moved from my face… down to my legs. My cheeks burned. Suddenly, he coughed violently.

Startled, I rushed to hand him a glass of water. He drank, and when he set the glass down, his expression was unreadable again. I sat down silently, my heart pounding.

“Why aren’t you wearing the trousers?” he asked suddenly.

“Uhm… they were too long,” I admitted nervously.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Silence. Just the clinking of cutlery. I ate quietly, but inside, I was screaming. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. My first meal after marriage—I thought it would be full of love, laughter, Dan’s warm smile…

Instead, I was sitting across from a stranger. f**k my life.

“Here.” His voice broke through my thoughts. He slid a credit card toward me. “You can go shopping if you need anything.”

“But… I don’t know any places here.”

“The driver will go with you. He knows everything,” he replied, dismissive.

I hesitated before taking it. His fingers brushed mine for the briefest second, but there was no warmth in his touch.

“Kindly change your clothes before I come back,” he added firmly before leaving.

I clenched my jaw, shoving food into my mouth. Bloody jerk.

---

That night, I sat watching a movie, the glow of the screen flickering across the empty room. My heart ached. For the first time, I truly understood the value of a small house—at least in a small home, you had people around. Laughter, chatter, life. Here, in this vast mansion, I had only silence.

The sound of a car engine pulled me out of my thoughts. I stood quickly, moving toward the hall.

He walked in, his presence commanding as ever. His eyes landed on me immediately.

Shit. I was still in his shirt.

His gaze raked over me, cold and sharp, before he rolled his eyes.

“I told you to change,” he said, dropping his bag on the table.

“I forgot,” I said, my voice small.

“Yeah, I can guess,” he muttered, loosening his tie.

“Are you hungry? Should I serve dinner?” I asked carefully.

He froze mid-motion, his fingers on the first button of his shirt. His eyes cut into me like knives.

“What did you just say?”

“I asked if you were hungry. Should I—”

“What do you think this is? You are no one to serve me. And dinner? I’ll eat whenever I want.” His words were sharp, final. He brushed past me, leaving me trembling in his wake.

Bloody jerk.

---

An hour later, I gathered my courage and knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

He didn’t look up, his eyes glued to the laptop screen.

“What do you want?”

“I… I need to talk about something important.”

Finally, his eyes lifted, scanning me. My stomach dropped—I was still in his damn shirt.

“Uhmm, I—” Words tangled in my throat.

“Whatever it is, just say it,” he said impatiently.

I stepped closer, fidgeting with my fingers, my heart hammering.

“I… I want a divorce,” I whispered.

His eyes widened, shock flashing across his face.

“What?”

“Yeah. Neither of us wants this relationship. Better to end it. Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know about the divorce,” I explained quickly, desperately.

He shut the laptop with a snap and stood, towering over me.

“You think marriage is a game?” His voice was dangerously low.

“I know it’s not. But I can’t live with you—not after knowing you love someone else. I can’t ruin anyone’s life.”

“Seriously? And whose life do you think you’re ruining?”

“Jannie’s,” I blurted.

His expression changed instantly, his eyes widening in shock. “How do you know her?”

“She’s Dan’s sister,” I said, my voice shaking.

For the first time, his face cracked—pure shock.

“This… this can’t be true,” he whispered, stepping back as though the ground had shifted beneath him.