Chapter 2

One Week Later…

Only seven days had passed since Linnea was buried under the rain of betrayal, and the earth atop her grave had not yet dried. But the memory of her… had already been torn apart like a tattered cloth tossed into the dusty corner of time.

Oscar did not mourn. He did not cry. Not a single tear fell from his eyes as he watched Saga cling tightly to Linnea's tombstone at the funeral. It was as if she were being forced to stop hoping—to stop believing that she could ever lean her pain against a father's chest.

But that chest was empty. Empty and hollow.

And that night, a sin left unresolved… sparked its next flame.

"Oscar… just put it in already. I can't take it anymore," Ebba whispered, her voice breathy and demanding. Her breaths came in short, hungry gasps—like a beast that had starved too long. Her fingers gripped Oscar's shirt collar harshly, not like a lover, but like a mistress dragging her slave into the pit of forbidden desire.

Oscar turned his head slowly, eyes scanning the wet and deserted parking corridor. His heart was pounding out of rhythm.

"Here? Now? This is… a public place, darling. We're in the parking lot."

"Your fancy car has tinted windows," Ebba snapped, one brow arching arrogantly. "The lights are out in this corridor. Not a single camera can reach this corner. And you… belong to me now. Besides, we're married."

Oscar swallowed hard, lowering his head. But his body… moved closer.

Ebba leaned in until her red lips nearly touched his.

"I'm the only one who can make you happy, Oscar..." It wasn't just seduction.

It was an ultimatum.

And Oscar always lost when it came to lust. Slowly, he nodded. His body trembled—not from fear, but from a desire rekindled, tangled with prideful hunger. He closed his eyes. Reason no longer had a voice.

With one swift pull of his tie, Ebba yanked him toward her—almost choking him. The car became a suffocating, burning box of sin.

"I don't have time, Oscar," she whispered again, darker now, deeper, "Make me scream."

Oscar could no longer resist. He had lost control—of his body, his logic, his conscience. He pushed the seat back, their bodies colliding in a wild, frenzied embrace.

The car began to rock gently. Their breaths were ragged, clashing, setting fire to the silence. Within the closed cabin, there were only whispers, the ripping of clothes, the clink of an unfastened belt.

"Faster… faster," Ebba hissed, her fingers digging into the nape of his neck as if trying to plant her nails into his flesh.

"You're mine. Tonight… and always."

"Yes, baby… I'm yours," Oscar growled back, his voice breathless and wild.

The car didn't just rock anymore—it writhed. In the shadows of that dead-end corridor, their sin festered in silence.

But they forgot one thing… Darkness does not mean immunity from being watched. A loud bang struck the car window. A flashlight pierced the cabin, blinding the eyes set ablaze by lust. Then came a sharp, authoritative shout:

"Get out of the vehicle right now! This is a serious violation, and we've got it all on tape!"

The voice of a security officer echoed through the stifling, dim parking garage of the hotel. The flashlight shone bright, cutting through the misted windows of the sleek black car.

Oscar jolted, fumbling to pull his pants back up with trembling hands. Ebba straightened her body, her breath still erratic, hair tangled, neck flushed with crimson marks.

"Bastards…" she muttered, narrowing her eyes at the officer.

"How dare you interrupt—"

"Silence." The second officer banged on the hood of the car. "Out. Both of you. Now."

The door opened slowly. Oscar stepped out first, head bowed in shame that drilled into his spine. His shirt was unbuttoned, his belt half-loose, face pale. His hands shook as he tried to fix his clothes.

"This… this is just a misunderstanding," he mumbled. "We… we were just talking inside—" The first guard let out a dry laugh.

"A misunderstanding? Talking while kissing, with your pants down, at two in the morning, in the darkest corner of a hotel garage? Do you take us for fools?"

Ebba stumbled out next, her stride unsteady but her expression still holding remnants of arrogance.

"How much do you want?" she snapped. "You saw something you shouldn't have. Take this as a… hush bonus."

She pulled out a stack of bills from her luxury wallet and shoved it forward.

The second officer stared at the money, then grinned—not in greed, but in disgust. He shoved her hand back roughly.

"Keep your money, ma'am," he said coldly. "We're not here for bribes. But the two of you—especially you, sir—have broken strict hotel regulations. We already issued a final warning last week to another couple caught doing something similar."

Ebba narrowed her eyes.

"So what exactly do you want?"

The first guard opened a small pouch from his belt and pulled out a document with a fresh seal and signature.

"We have a standing policy from hotel management. If we catch any further indecent acts like this on the property… one of you must take responsibility. Through legal marriage. On the spot."

But instead of panic—Oscar and Ebba smiled. A wicked smile. A dangerous one.

"You don't need to bother officiating us," Ebba said softly, like poison slipping into a vein.

"Because we're already married. We are husband and wife."

***

Meanwhile, in the dimly lit bedroom, Saga sat clutching her mother's pillow—still faintly scented with the rose perfume Linnea used to wear. She hadn't slept since the night her mother died. The photo of Linnea in her hands was soaked with tears.

"Mom... why did Dad do this to us?" she whispered. "Why did our world fall apart so fast…?"

Her phone suddenly vibrated. A message. From an unknown number.

"From this moment on, you must submit to me completely. Know that I have truly taken your mother's place."

Attached was a video.

Oscar.

His arm wrapped around Ebba's waist… as he wiped a lipstick stain from his neck. Saga didn't scream. She didn't cry.

She simply stared at the screen—for five long minutes, unblinking… Before quietly placing the phone on the table.

***