His Obsession, Her Redemption

“This is kidnapping! Let me out of here!” Sofia screamed, her voice echoing through the towering marble hallway of the mansion. Her once-pristine clothes were torn and dirt-streaked, a testament to her desperate attempts to escape the gilded prison that held her.



Standing like a silent sentinel, the butler—Mr. Alfred—offered only a courteous bow.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Miss,” he said, his tone calm, yet unyielding.



Sofia’s voice cracked as it rose again, thick with fear.

“My mother is sick. She needs me—who’s going to take care of her?”



From the far end of the hallway, cloaked in shadows, came a low, deliberate voice.

“And here I thought you’d be more... fire than fear.”



A figure emerged slowly from the dark—sharp suit, sharper eyes, and a presence that pulled the very air from the room. As sunlight hit his face, Sofia’s breath caught. She knew him. The arrogant man from the diner. The man she’d spoken to like he was just another rich brat.



“You?” she spat. “What the hell is this? Revenge?”



He stopped a few paces away, lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“For someone trapped in my home, you speak with remarkable boldness. But let me make something clear—you’re under my roof now. And here, you speak with respect.”



There was something in his voice—cold, smooth, and dangerous. A predator circling its prey. But Sofia didn’t flinch. She stood taller, meeting his gaze with defiance. For the first time in a long while, someone wasn’t trembling before him... and that intrigued him. But he would break her. Slowly. Thoroughly.



“Spare me the rich-man theatrics,” she snapped. “I don’t care who you are. I just want to go home.”



His eyes darkened as he stepped closer, the air between them tightening like a noose.

“You’re not going anywhere until your debt is paid.”



She blinked. “What debt? I don’t owe you anything.”



He leaned in, his voice a whisper laced with venom.

“No... but your mother does. Two-point-five million dollars, if I’m not mistaken.” A pause. A cruel smirk. “I own the hospital now. So guess who holds the strings?”



Sofia’s bravado faltered. Her mind raced.



“What do you want? An apology?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.



He chuckled.

“An apology?” He stepped even closer, his breath grazing her skin.

“I’m going to need much more than that... Fiore.”



The way he said her last name froze her blood. That was when she realized—she wasn’t just in trouble. She was in his world now. And he never played fair.