Elena woke slowly, the world soft and muted around the edges.
Warmth pressed against her back — an arm looped firmly around her waist, fingers lax but possessive even in sleep.
Nathan.
She wasn't used to waking up like this.
Every simple touch, even the brush of his knuckles against her stomach, sent those familiar flutters through her, the ones she tried to pretend didn't shake her so deeply.
He'd stayed for her last night.
Stayed because she'd fainted.
Stayed because Nick wasn't home and he didn't trust her to be alone.
That thought alone made something warm unfurl in her chest.
She felt cared for.
She felt wanted.
She felt… important.
This man beside her, is the only man who makes her feel this way.
The memory of last night bloomed through her, heat spreading under her skin.
And this way!
How they ended up sitting in her kitchen afterward, eating in silence like nothing explosive had just happened.
And this way?
How normal it had felt, how grounding, and yet every time she blinked she could still feel his hands, his breath, his voice.
He has stirred so many feelings in her.
Feelings?
And then she remembered his words.
> "You don't know how long I've waited to take this from you."
"This is the future I'm planning for you."
He's planning a future for me?
He's serious about me?
Her stomach dipped.
There had been authority in those words.
A command?
Like he wanted her to step into something she didn't fully understand yet.
And her thoughts began to stir again.
Why is it always you, Elena?
You're the one who has to ask, to explain, to apologize, while he's always confident, always right, always composed.
Are these choices really mine?
Or had she only been made to feel like she was choosing, when he was guiding every step from the shadows?
She replayed the moment she overcame her shyness to go to him, to be bold, to say what he wanted her to say.
He hadn't given her time to think, everything moved fast, breathless, immediate.
And she'd responded before understanding what she was responding to.
Maybe he wants me to be confident.
Maybe he's pushing me to stop being scared.
Maybe he's grooming me to be bold now that I'm "old enough."
But…
But…
He is very commanding in bed.
Experienced.
Sure of himself in ways she couldn't match.
He made her say things.
Made her open doors she didn't know she could open.
She wasn't unhappy about it, but she couldn't ignore the tiny pang of shame that followed her excitement.
Why do I feel rushed?
Why do I feel like he's already three steps ahead?
And then—
> "Things are under control."
"She's getting along so well."
His phone call.
The phrases she tried so hard to forget.
I trust him, he has told me the truth.
It was about Claire.
Her pulse fluttered painfully.
Things were escalating so quickly.
Her body was excited, thrilled to explore more — but something deeper, something buried, whispered that there was more going on inside Nathan than he had ever told her.
Is this all happening naturally?
Or is he pulling the strings?
Is this what I want — or what I'm being shaped to want?
A dull ache pulled through her body, unfamiliar and intimate, a soreness she told herself was normal… beautiful, even… proof of something real.
But her mind —
Her mind wouldn't match that softness.
Because every time she tried to breathe into the comfort of his arms…
A quiet voice inside her asked:
Then why does something feel off? Why am I questioning this at all?
Nathan stirred behind her, shifting on the sheets.
His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her back into the warmth of him.
Elena squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to sleep as her thoughts scattered.
He kissed her cheek softly.
"Good morning, darling…" he whispered into her ear.
Just like that, all her worry, all her spiraling thoughts evaporated for a moment.
She turned to face him.
"Good morning," she whispered back.
He smiled, sleepy and devastating.
"The beauty is awake," he murmured, and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.
She felt her heart ripple, betraying her.
They stayed there, looking at each other, the quiet between them warm… almost too warm.
Then his phone rang.
He groaned, stretching an arm to reach for it on the nightstand.
"I have to get this," he mumbled. "It's work."
He got up, taking the call quietly.
Her phone buzzed a second later.
Adrian:
> Coming to pick you up in 20 min. You know I don't like late appearances.
Her stomach dropped.
She practically jumped out of bed and went straight to shower.
But the moment she stepped under the water, she froze.
The marks.
Her breath caught.
Oh—
He'd left so many.
Deep, flushed, unmistakable.
Across her neck, collarbone, her chest…
A map of last night.
Hickies… he really—
Did he want to mark me?
His words replayed in her head:
> "This is mine."
"You're mine."
A strange wave of panic washed over her.
She scrubbed her skin lightly — the marks didn't fade.
Not even a little.
She got out quickly, wrapped in a towel, rushing to her mirror.
She groaned.
"How am I supposed to hide this?"
She grabbed the highest-neck jumper she owned, pulling it on, wincing as fabric brushed the tender skin.
She was digging through concealers, hairbrushes, scarves — anything — when the bathroom door opened quietly.
"Elena?" Nathan's voice was warm, still soft from waking, not suspicious but attentive.
She stiffened.
He stepped in, eyes first going to her face, then automatically, instinctively, to her covered neck.
She expected coldness.
Instead, he softened instantly.
"You're trying to cover them," he said gently — without judgment.
Elena's breath hitched. "I… Adrian is coming. I can't let him see—"
Nathan nodded, calm and composed.
"Of course you can't," he said softly.
His tone held understanding, not anger.
He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair back from her cheek.
"It's alright, sweetheart."
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
"I marked you more than I intended, I couldn't control myself." He said in a quiet, careful tone.
"You bruise easily. I should've been gentler."
He touched the neckline of her jumper, eyes full of concern, not possessiveness.
"I'm sorry if I scared you."
Her chest tightened painfully.
This… this was even harder to resist.
He couldn't control himself, aww…
He reached past her and picked up the concealer from the counter.
"Here," he said. "Let me help."
He dabbed gently, tenderly, careful with every movement.
"You don't need to feel embarrassed," he murmured.
"You're allowed to keep things private. Especially from Adrian."
Her eyes widened a little. "You… you're okay with that?"
He smiled softly, thumb brushing her jaw.
"Elena, I told you what we have is ours. We don't owe anyone explanations."
God.
Why does he sound so perfect now?
Once he finished, he kissed her forehead.
"Beautiful," he whispered. "No one will notice."
He stepped back.
"Now go," he said gently. "Before Adrian barges in."
She nodded slowly, heart full, stomach twisted.
Nathan smiled again, warm, tender, supportive.
But behind his eyes something flickered.
Something she couldn't read.
Something he didn't want her to see.
Elena joined Adrian in the car with a small, hopeful smile.
"Good morning," she said softly.
"To you too," he replied flat, distant, not even glancing at her.
She blinked. What happened to him?
He looked exhausted — eyes swollen, jaw tight like he hadn't slept at all.
"Hey… you look tired. What's up, Dree?"
"I'm fine," he answered shortly.
No he wasn't.
His voice was tight.
His shoulders stiff.
His mood completely unlike him.
But she didn't push.
"So… where are we going?"
"I'll tell you when we reach," he said, eyes fixed on the road.
Silence swallowed the car after that — heavy, uncomfortable, nothing like the familiar comfort she always felt with Adrian.
Her mind wandered back to yesterday, to Nathan, to everything that happened.
Why did "closeness" still feel… out of reach?
Why did everything still feel like more was happening beneath the surface?
Before she could think further, the car slowed in front of a tall, glass building that glimmered like money and power.
Knight Enterprises.
Adrian's company.
He dropped her at the front and went to park.
Her phone buzzed.
> Nathan:
Baby, I'm going out for work.
There will be a gift waiting for you when you reach home.
Please read the message on it.
Gift?
They were exchanging gifts now?
Curiosity flickered — but something unsettled her too, something about how Nathan wrote please read the message.
Before she could spiral, Adrian returned and motioned for her to follow.
All the way up to the top floor.
His office was huge — glass walls, skyline view, polished marble, minimalistic design that screamed money and control.
She had never seen this version of him.
When he closed the door behind them, she asked quietly, "Dree… why are we here?"
He didn't soften.
"I wanted to show you something," he said, voice grounded. "To discuss it with you. Because you feel out of reach these days."
Her chest tightened."Yes, Elena. What's going on with you? Want to tell me?"
"It's nothing, Dree," she lied gently. "Just… adjusting to adulthood."
"Me?" she whispered.
His eyes said yes, you already know this.
Elena woke slowly, the world soft and muted around the edges.
Warmth pressed against her back — an arm looped firmly around her waist, fingers lax but possessive even in sleep.
Nathan.
She wasn't used to waking up like this.
Every simple touch, even the brush of his knuckles against her stomach, sent those familiar flutters through her, the ones she tried to pretend didn't shake her so deeply.
He'd stayed for her last night.
Stayed because she'd fainted.
Stayed because Nick wasn't home and he didn't trust her to be alone.
That thought alone made something warm unfurl in her chest.
She felt cared for.
She felt wanted.
She felt… important.
This man beside her, is the only man who makes her feel this way.
The memory of last night bloomed through her, heat spreading under her skin.
And this way!
How they ended up sitting in her kitchen afterward, eating in silence like nothing explosive had just happened.
And this way?
How normal it had felt, how grounding, and yet every time she blinked she could still feel his hands, his breath, his voice.
He has stirred so many feelings in her.
Feelings?
And then she remembered his words.
> "You don't know how long I've waited to take this from you."
"This is the future I'm planning for you."
He's planning a future for me?
He's serious about me?
Her stomach dipped.
There had been authority in those words.
A command?
Like he wanted her to step into something she didn't fully understand yet.
And her thoughts began to stir again.
Why is it always you, Elena?
You're the one who has to ask, to explain, to apologize, while he's always confident, always right, always composed.
Are these choices really mine?
Or had she only been made to feel like she was choosing, when he was guiding every step from the shadows?
She replayed the moment she overcame her shyness to go to him, to be bold, to say what he wanted her to say.
He hadn't given her time to think, everything moved fast, breathless, immediate.
And she'd responded before understanding what she was responding to.
Maybe he wants me to be confident.
Maybe he's pushing me to stop being scared.
Maybe he's grooming me to be bold now that I'm "old enough."
But…
But…
He is very commanding in bed.
Experienced.
Sure of himself in ways she couldn't match.
He made her say things.
Made her open doors she didn't know she could open.
She wasn't unhappy about it, but she couldn't ignore the tiny pang of shame that followed her excitement.
Why do I feel rushed?
Why do I feel like he's already three steps ahead?
And then—
> "Things are under control."
"She's getting along so well."
His phone call.
The phrases she tried so hard to forget.
I trust him, he has told me the truth.
It was about Claire.
Her pulse fluttered painfully.
Things were escalating so quickly.
Her body was excited, thrilled to explore more — but something deeper, something buried, whispered that there was more going on inside Nathan than he had ever told her.
Is this all happening naturally?
Or is he pulling the strings?
Is this what I want — or what I'm being shaped to want?
A dull ache pulled through her body, unfamiliar and intimate, a soreness she told herself was normal… beautiful, even… proof of something real.
But her mind —
Her mind wouldn't match that softness.
Because every time she tried to breathe into the comfort of his arms…
A quiet voice inside her asked:
Then why does something feel off? Why am I questioning this at all?
Nathan stirred behind her, shifting on the sheets.
His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her back into the warmth of him.
Elena squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to sleep as her thoughts scattered.
He kissed her cheek softly.
"Good morning, darling…" he whispered into her ear.
Just like that, all her worry, all her spiraling thoughts evaporated for a moment.
She turned to face him.
"Good morning," she whispered back.
He smiled, sleepy and devastating.
"The beauty is awake," he murmured, and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.
She felt her heart ripple, betraying her.
They stayed there, looking at each other, the quiet between them warm… almost too warm.
Then his phone rang.
He groaned, stretching an arm to reach for it on the nightstand.
"I have to get this," he mumbled. "It's work."
He got up, taking the call quietly.
Her phone buzzed a second later.
Adrian:
> Coming to pick you up in 20 min. You know I don't like late appearances.
Her stomach dropped.
She practically jumped out of bed and went straight to shower.
But the moment she stepped under the water and she froze.
The marks.
Her breath caught.
Oh—
He'd left so many.
Deep, flushed, unmistakable.
Across her neck, collarbone, her chest…
A map of last night.
Hickies… he really—
Did he want to mark me?
His words replayed in her head:
> "This is mine."
"You're mine."
A strange wave of panic washed over her.
She scrubbed her skin lightly, the marks didn't fade.
Not even a little.
She got out quickly, wrapped in a towel, rushing to her mirror.
She groaned.
"How am I supposed to hide this?"
She grabbed the highest-neck jumper she owned, pulling it on, wincing as fabric brushed the tender skin.
She was digging through concealers, hairbrushes, scarves, anything , when the bathroom door opened quietly.
"Elena?" Nathan's voice was warm, still soft from waking, not suspicious — attentive.
She stiffened.
He stepped in, eyes first going to her face, then automatically, instinctively, to her covered neck.
She expected coldness.
Instead, he softened instantly.
"You're trying to cover them," he said gently, without judgment.
Elena's breath hitched. "I… Adrian is coming. I can't let him see—"
Nathan nodded, calm and composed.
"Of course you can't," he said softly.
His tone held understanding, not anger.
He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair back from her cheek.
"It's alright, sweetheart."
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
"I marked you more than I intended, you were so delectable and I couldn't control my feelings." He said in a quiet, careful tone.
"You bruise easily. I should've been gentler."
He touched the neckline of her jumper, eyes full of concern, not possessiveness.
"I'm sorry if I scared you."
Her chest tightened painfully.
This… this was even harder to resist.
He reached past her and picked up the concealer from the counter.
"Here," he said. "Let me help."
He dabbed gently, tenderly, careful with every movement.
"You don't need to feel embarrassed," he murmured.
"You're allowed to keep things private. Especially from Adrian."
Her eyes widened a little. "You… you're okay with that?"
He smiled softly, thumb brushing her jaw.
"Elena, I told you — what we have is ours. We don't owe anyone explanations."
God.
Why does he sound so perfect now?
Once he finished, he kissed her forehead.
"Beautiful," he whispered. "No one will notice."
He stepped back.
"Now go," he said gently. "Before Adrian barges in."
She nodded slowly, heart full, stomach twisted.
Nathan smiled again , warm, tender, supportive.
But behind his eyes something flickered.
Something she couldn't read.
Something he didn't want her to see.
Elena joined Adrian in the car with a small, hopeful smile.
"Good morning," she said softly.
"To you too," he replied flat, distant, not even glancing at her.
She blinked. What happened to him?
He looked exhausted — eyes swollen, jaw tight like he hadn't slept at all.
"Hey… you look tired. What's up, Dree?"
"I'm fine," he answered shortly.
No he wasn't.
His voice was tight.
His shoulders stiff.
His mood completely unlike him.
But she didn't push.
"So… where are we going?"
"I'll tell you when we reach," he said, eyes fixed on the road.
Silence swallowed the car after that heavy, uncomfortable, nothing like the familiar comfort she always felt with Adrian.
Her mind wandered back to yesterday, to Nathan, to everything that happened.
Why did "closeness" still feel… out of reach?
Why did everything still feel like more was happening beneath the surface?
Before she could think further, the car slowed in front of a tall, glass building that glimmered like money and power.
Knight Enterprises.
Adrian's company.
He dropped her at the front and went to park.
Her phone buzzed.
> Nathan:
Baby, I'm going out for work.
There will be a gift waiting for you when you reach home.
Please read the message on it.
Gift?
They were exchanging gifts now?
Curiosity flickered — but something unsettled her too, something about how Nathan wrote please read the message.
Before she could spiral, Adrian returned and motioned for her to follow.
All the way up to the top floor.
His office was huge, glass walls, skyline view, polished marble, minimalistic design that screamed money and control.
She had never seen this version of him.
When he closed the door behind them, she asked quietly, "Dree… why are we here?"
He didn't soften.
"I wanted to show you something," he said, voice grounded. "To discuss it with you. Because you feel out of reach these days."
Her chest tightened.
"Me?" she whispered.
His eyes said yes, you already know this.
"Yes, Elena. What's going on with you? Want to tell me?"
"It's nothing, Dree," she lied, giving him a sheepish smile. "Just… adjusting to adulthood."
He gave her a long, unreadable look.
"Are you sure? Nothing else?"
She wrung her fingers. "Yeah. I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me, I can take care of myself."
His expression snapped.
"You don't get to tell me what I need to do, okay?" His tone carried an edge she rarely heard. "And I can see how you've been taking care of yourself."
Her breath caught.
Why's he angry?
You kept lying to him! Guilt began to rise in her body.
"W-what do you mean?"
His jaw flexed, a muscle ticking.
"You know exactly what I mean. You're shutting me out. You're shutting out the people who care about you the most."
"I didn't— who did I shut out?" she asked, voice shrinking.
"Nick told me you didn't look okay when he left. You lied to him."
His tone hardened.
"I called — you didn't pick up."
"I texted — you didn't reply."
"And last night… I called again."
His voice cracked slightly.
"And you shut me out."
He took one step closer.
"Tell me, Elena," he said quietly, "why are you shutting everyone out?"
I… I can't, Dree!
"It's nothing, Dree. Trust me."
His laugh was soft and painful.
"Trust you?"
His voice turned small, hurt bleeding through.
"Elena, you lied to my face."
Her stomach knotted.
She never meant to hurt him.
He walked to his desk, picked up a thick file, and handed it to her.
"Sit," he said.
She did, timidly.
"Read it."
She opened the file.
Photos.
So many photos.
Girls.
Beautiful.
Smiling.
Lit up beside Nathan.
She frowned. "Dree… what is this?"
Is he spying on Nathan?
He didn't answer.
"Come on," he said quietly. "Read."
Her eyes dropped to the first page.
Her hands began to tremble.
The biodata listed dates, timelines, behavior patterns.
The girls' comments—
Manipulated.
Used.
Emotionally breached.
Left in pieces.
He made me feel special, then disappeared.
It started fast. Too fast.
He pushed boundaries.
I didn't realize what was happening until I was already in too deep.
Her heart began to pound.
No…
No, no, no—
She turned another page.
Another girl.
Another identical pattern.
Brief honeymoon phase.
Sudden escalation.
Dependence.
Isolation.
Control.
Rapid emotional attachment.
Then —
Discarded.
Her fingertips went numb.
Her throat closed.
She felt sick.
This… can't be true…
Wtf is this? No!
And Adrian let the silence stretch — let it sink into her, let her put pieces together with her own mind.
He didn't rush.
He didn't say a word.
He let her drown in what she was seeing.
Her pulse hammered in her ears.
Her body went cold.
I'm seeing it.
Oh God… I'm seeing it.
Every word she read felt like a mirror held to her chest — reflecting everything she didn't want to admit.
Fast.
Intense.
Possessive.
Taking.
Claiming.
Kissing her until she forgot her own name.
Calling her sweetheart, baby, his.
Leaving marks.
Making her dependent.
Making her hide things.
Moving fast.
Faster.
Her vision blurred.
Her fingers clutched the pages like they could steady her.
She opened another page.
Then another.
Her breathing quickened.
I'm one of them?
He's doing it to me?
I'm right in the middle of it—
Her stomach lurched violently.
Oh god. Please no!
Her mind screamed, but no sound left her lips.
Her heartbeat was pounding out of rhythm, panic rising like a wave swallowing her whole.
He's doing it again?
He's following the exact same pattern?
Fast.
Intense.
Isolating.
Suddenly sexual.
Suddenly possessive.
Suddenly everything.
Her hands shook so badly the papers rattled.
Her breath came shallow, sharp.
Her thoughts spiraled, uncontrollable.
Am I next?
Her pulse hammered against her ribs.
She stared at the file.
At the faces.
At the words.
Manipulated.
Used.
Left in pieces.
Her stomach twisted violently but just as another wave of nausea hit her, something in her mind snapped closed.
A defense mechanism.
One word came into her head, loud and desperate.
Nathan.
All the things he had said to her these past days rushed in like a tidal wave:
> "You're my something worth waiting for."
"This is just the beginning of what I've planned for us."
"I've never met anyone like you before."
"Come to me because you choose me."
"Good girl… don't hide from me."
He's not like that with me.
He's been nothing like this with me!
Her breathing quickened.
She shut the file abruptly.
"No," she whispered.
Adrian looked up sharply. "Elena—"
"No," she repeated louder, blinking the blur from her vision. "You don't know him like I do."
Adrian's expression tightened, but he didn't interrupt.
"He's not like this with me," she said, clutching the closed file as if it could suffocate the panic in her chest. "He has never pressured me. Not once. Nothing in here," her voice trembled, "matches what I've seen."
"Elena," Adrian tried carefully, "that's what patterns look like—"
"No, you ou don't get it!" she snapped.
Her voice echoed too loudly through the polished office.
She swallowed hard, her throat burning.
"You don't know what he's like when it's just us," she said, softer now, trembling. "He's gentle with me. He's patient. He listens."
Her mind clung desperately to Nathan's tenderness—
the nighttime kiss to her jaw,
the porridge he fed her,
the way he held her when she fainted.
It can't be!!!
"Do you know what happened the night Nick left?" she said suddenly, her voice breaking. "I fainted, Dree. And Nathan stayed with me the whole night. He didn't sleep. He didn't leave me alone for a second."
Adrian's jaw clenched. "Elena—"
"And he said…" she continued, her heart pounding harder, "he said the girls before were shallow. That none of them were deep enough to understand him. That they cared about his money. Not him."
She lifted her chin, tears gathering but stubborn fire in her voice.
"He said I was different."
Adrian closed his eyes for a moment, pained. His hands curled slightly on the desk.
"Elena… I know you want to believe that—"
"It's the truth!" she cut in sharply. "Nathan isn't like this file says. You're twisting everything into something ugly."
"I'm showing you facts," Adrian said quietly. "Not twisting. Read the testimonies—"
"No."
Her voice was cold now.
Steadier than she actually felt inside.
Adrian exhaled long, controlled.
He didn't argue.
Didn't get angry.
He only looked at her with quiet hurt.
"Elena," he said slowly, "I just want you to be safe. We've been friends forever. You're family to me. And I can't—" His voice cracked for a moment before he steadied it. "I can't watch you walk into something blind."
Her eyes softened—but only for a second.
Then anger roared to life again.
"This still doesn't give you the right," she said sharply, "to accuse him, to spy on him, to judge him like this."
"Elena—"
"And don't you dare compare him to those girls," she added, heat rising in her voice. "What happened between him and them is none of my concern. He's in my present. Not those other girls."
He looked shattered at that.
Like the words hit a place he didn't even know was vulnerable.
"Elena…" he whispered.
She stood up suddenly.
"Maybe you should learn to mind your own business," she said, voice icy, "and stop trying to make decisions for me like my parents do."
Adrian froze.
His eyes flickered with something wounded—
so deep it made him take a single step back.
"Elena—please—" he tried.
But she was already done.
She threw the file onto the floor.
The papers scattered across the marble like broken truth.
"If we're done here," she said, tone final, "I'll take my leave."
She turned for the door, but paused only long enough to deliver one last blow.
"And Adrian?"
She didn't look back.
"If you want us to stay friends… don't ever poke your nose into my personal life again."
She slammed the door behind her—
the sound echoing like a fracture neither of them could undo.
Her hands were shaking again.
Her chest felt tight, breath shallow.
She didn't know if it was anger or panic or something worse.
She just knew she needed to get out.
Away from the file.
Away from Adrian's eyes.
Away from the truth she refused to see.