Preface
Content Warning: This story contains explicit sexual content, themes of forbidden romance, and depictions of emotional and familial abuse. Reader discretion is advised.
Nestled in the quiet charm of Bramley-on-Mersey, a small town just outside Liverpool, England, Elara Voss was born into a world of wealth, privilege, and complexity. She was the youngest of four children—two older sisters and one older brother—and from the moment she came into the world, she was cherished. The youngest in the family often carried the light of the household, and in Elara's case, that light shone bright.
Her father, Clark Voss, was a successful businessman and industrialist, respected in the town and well-known for his close friendship with Sebastian Blackwood, another man of wealth and influence. Through decades of shared ventures, triumphs, and challenges, Clark and Sebastian had stood shoulder to shoulder, their loyalty to one another unwavering. Elara grew up aware of this bond, yet as a child, she mostly noticed Sebastian as the tall, strong, protective presence who always seemed to be watching over her.
Her mother, a dedicated homemaker, filled the house with warmth, calm, and care. Despite the comfort of wealth and privilege, the household was far from perfect. Clark, brilliant in business but complicated in temperament, carried the weight of a mind that often struggled with extremes of mood. His moods could shift without warning, leaving the family navigating a complex emotional landscape, even as their material life remained enviable.
Elara herself was remarkable from a young age. Petite at 5'3", with a curvy figure, long black hair, and deep brown eyes, she was striking without effort. Intelligent, observant, and fiercely loyal, she had a quiet confidence that belied her years. Growing up under the watchful eyes of her siblings, her parents, and Sebastian, she learned quickly how to navigate the intricate webs of relationships, privilege, and influence that surrounded her.
Despite the expectations that wealth and family might impose, Elara's life was ultimately her own. She pursued education with dedication, eventually carving a career as a corporate lawyer, balancing ambition, intellect, and her innate sense of justice. Yet even as she excelled professionally, the early lessons in trust, protection, and forbidden affection remained a part of her—echoes of a complicated childhood that had shaped who she was and who she would become.
This story, though it begins in the past, is not merely a recollection of years gone by. It is a journey into the forbidden, the complicated, and the heart's most secret desires. It is a story of passion, loyalty, heartbreak, and temptation—of boundaries crossed and hearts entangled. And above all, it is a story of Elara Voss, a woman whose life, loves, and choices are as chaotic, intense, and profound as the title of this tale itself.
Welcome to Tremendously Chaotic.
Chapter One: First Protection
The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Elara Voss, eight years old, sat cross-legged in front of the television, her black hair falling across her shoulders. Her brown eyes were fixed on the cartoon playing before her, completely absorbed. The world outside her screen was simple, safe, and predictable—a stark contrast to the tension simmering upstairs.
"Elara! Go call your sister for dinner," came the sharp command of her father, Clark. His voice was clipped, leaving no room for negotiation. He leaned against the doorway, his eyes sharp, his posture radiating authority. Clark, a businessman who carried the weight of stress and secrets, had moods that shifted suddenly and dangerously, leaving everyone in the house guessing which version of him they would face each day.
Elara scrunched her small face, crossing her arms. "Why should I? I'm watching my cartoon. I don't want to!" she said, stamping her foot lightly.
Clark's jaw tightened. "Now."
"I said no!" she shouted, her voice trembling but defiant. "I just had a snack. I don't want dinner yet!"
He stepped toward her, the air thickening with tension. Elara's heart raced, but she clenched her fists, unwilling to move.
She finally heaved herself to her feet and trudged upstairs, muttering under her breath as she went. At the top of the stairs, she called to her sister, Serene. "Dinner's ready!"
"Not interested," came Serene's dismissive reply.
Elara's small face twisted with frustration as she stomped back down. Standing before her father, she threw her hands in the air. "See! You got me up for nothing! I missed the most important scene of my cartoon. You just always do this! You're terrible!"
Clark's face darkened immediately. His eyes narrowed, and he advanced toward her, the air in the room snapping with danger. "How dare you talk back to me like that?" he spat. "You are nothing. A mistake of mine. Do you think you can speak to me like that?"
Before she could react, his hand lashed out, striking her across the face. The slap echoed sharply, leaving her stunned, tears immediately forming in her eyes. Pain radiated across her cheek, but it was the weight of his words, more than the strike, that cut deep.
Elara's small body trembled. She blinked, struggling to make sense of the fear and betrayal coursing through her. "I… I didn't mean—" she began, but Clark wasn't listening. He raised his hand again, his temper a roaring storm, ready to lash at the child who dared to defy him.
That's when Sebastian Blackwood stepped forward. "Clark! Calm down!" His voice was firm, commanding, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Clark froze, his hand in mid-air, eyes flicking toward Sebastian. "Stay out of this!" he barked, but Sebastian advanced, unwavering.
"She's just a child!" Sebastian said, his voice low but lethal in its intensity. "You don't get to hurt her. Not like this."
Lydia, Elara's mother, appeared at the doorway, her face pale but filled with anger. "Clark! What are you doing? That's my child! You do not—" She stopped herself, gathering her composure, stepping between Clark and Elara.
Clark's shoulders trembled, a mixture of rage and frustration. "She's disrespectful! She doesn't listen!"
"She's eight years old!" Sebastian snapped. "And you just struck her across the face. This is not discipline. This is abuse!" He moved closer to Elara, crouching down so she could see he was on her side. "It's okay, Elara. I've got you."
Elara's small, tear-filled eyes met his. The brown irises shimmered with fear and confusion, but also the first glimmer of trust she had ever felt toward anyone. "Will… will you always protect me?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Sebastian's lips curved into a reassuring smile. "Always, my sweet girl. Always," he said softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "No matter what, I'll be there for you. Whenever someone tries to hurt you, I'll protect you. That's my promise."
Clark, muttering curses under his breath, finally stormed out of the room, grabbing his coat. Lydia exhaled, steadying herself, and moved closer to Elara. "You're safe now," she murmured, brushing her hands over Elara's shoulders. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."
Elara buried her face against Sebastian's chest, feeling the warmth and stability of someone who truly cared for her. "I… I don't want anyone to hurt me again," she murmured.
"You won't," he said gently, smoothing the hair from her face. "I'll make sure of it. Always."
The room fell into a heavy silence, the echoes of the confrontation lingering like shadows. Elara's small hands clutched Sebastian's jacket, grounding herself against the storm that had just passed. The cartoon played on, forgotten, but for the first time that day, Elara felt a sense of safety, a protection that was absolute.
Sebastian remained near, a silent sentinel, as Lydia tucked Elara into her arms and murmured soothing words. The world outside the room could rage and falter, but in that space, for that moment, Elara knew someone was truly on her side. Someone who would fight for her, who would never let harm come to her.
"Always," Sebastian repeated quietly, more to himself than anyone else, as he watched Elara settle. "Always, my sweet girl. Always."
And in that moment, eight-year-old Elara Voss felt a seed of trust planted in her heart—one that would shape her world in ways she could never yet imagine.
The house had finally settled into a fragile quiet. Clark's footsteps had faded from the living room, the faint smell of his cigarette smoke still lingering in the air. Elara huddled near Sebastian, her small hands still clutching his jacket. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the adrenaline slowly draining from her system, leaving a heavy mixture of fear, confusion, and a strange, bittersweet relief.
Sebastian remained kneeling beside her, his dark eyes soft and watchful. He didn't move until Elara had taken several calming breaths. "It's okay," he murmured, as if reassuring both her and himself. "You're safe now. No one is going to hurt you while I'm here."
Elara's gaze shifted to him, her tear-stained cheeks and trembling lips reflecting the safety she had never known before. His presence, strong and unwavering, had been a shield for her when she needed it most. Even now, the echo of his voice comforted her. Why isn't he always here? she thought, her small heart aching with longing. Why isn't anyone else like him?
For a long moment, the room remained quiet. Then, slowly, the soft shuffle of footsteps signaled Clark's return. Elara's stomach knotted, dread curling in her chest. She had braced herself for more anger, another lash of harsh words. But what she saw made her freeze.
Clark stood at the doorway, shoulders slumped, his eyes uncharacteristically soft. He was holding something unsteady in his hands, a small bundle of regret that Elara could almost feel emanating from him. "Elara…" he began, his voice unsteady, almost fragile. "Baby… I… I'm so sorry."
Elara blinked, unsure if she could trust him. His words hung in the air, but they felt foreign, almost impossible after what had just happened. She pressed herself closer to Sebastian instinctively, as if seeking a second layer of protection.
Clark moved forward cautiously, sitting down on the edge of the couch a few feet away. "I… I was stressed. I've… I've been so stressed with work. And money. And the meeting with Sebastian…" His voice faltered, and he rubbed his hands over his face. "I didn't… I didn't mean to… to hurt you. I just… I just lost control. I'm sorry, baby. I really am."
Elara swallowed, her mind racing. She wanted to believe him. She wanted him to be like Sebastian—strong, protective, calm. But the memory of the sting of his hand across her cheek, the words that had cut deeper than the strike, still burned fresh in her mind. Why can't he be like Sebastian? she thought bitterly, her small fists clenching in her lap. Why can't he be calm like that, like someone who actually cares about me without hurting me?
Clark reached out slowly, a hesitant hand brushing over her hair. "Please… come with me. Let me… let me make it right. Just for a little while. I want to take you out. Just us."
Elara looked down at the floor, unsure what to do. Part of her wanted to retreat, to hide, to stay with Sebastian, who had been unwavering, who had never raised a hand, never spoken a word that would make her flinch. Yet, part of her curiosity, part of her desire for approval, nudged her forward. Slowly, she nodded.
Sebastian remained behind, his watchful eyes following her as she stood. "Be careful," he said softly, almost like a whisper of a protective spell. "And remember… you always have me. Always."
Elara's small shoulders stiffened as she walked toward her father. The memory of Sebastian's promise lingered in her mind, the warmth and calm of his voice contrasting sharply with the cold, unpredictable storm of Clark's temper. If only Clark were like him… she thought again, as she climbed into the passenger seat of her father's car.
The streets outside stretched in golden hues under the fading sun. Clark drove slowly, glancing at her once, then back at the road. There was an awkward silence, broken only by the soft hum of the car engine. He reached over and took her small hand, squeezing it lightly. "I know I hurt you. I… I shouldn't have. I just… I'm sorry, Elara. Truly."
Elara kept her gaze fixed on the passing scenery, trying to process the conflicting emotions swirling inside her. Fear. Relief. Confusion. And, impossibly, an aching curiosity for what Sebastian had made her feel—that feeling of being safe, of being truly seen, of being cared for without pain attached.
Clark's voice broke through again. "I… I want to be better. For you. I know I fail sometimes, but…" He trailed off, glancing at her with unsteady eyes. "I'm trying, baby. I really am."
Elara thought about Sebastian, kneeling in the living room, his calm gaze steady on her. Why isn't he here now? she thought. Why isn't anyone like him? The memory of his hands on her shoulders, the warmth of his presence, was sharper now than ever. She pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the tears that still threatened to spill.
Clark pulled into a small park, the car slowing as he found a quiet spot. "We'll just sit here for a bit," he said softly. "I… I want to make it up to you. I want you to know I love you."
Elara climbed out of the car hesitantly, brushing her hair back. The air was cool and fresh, a contrast to the stifling tension of the house. Clark wrapped his arms around her, careful this time, not striking, not raising his voice. The embrace was tentative, almost fragile.
And yet, even in that embrace, Elara's mind wandered to Sebastian. He never hit me. He never yelled. He just… protected me. Always. The comparison made her small chest ache. She knew she should feel comforted by her father's apology, but the lingering sting of betrayal, the memory of pain, made it impossible to feel fully safe with Clark.
Clark pulled back, looking into her eyes. "I'll try harder, Elara. I promise. I want to be someone you can trust."
Elara nodded slowly, her small hand lingering in his. But inside, her thoughts were elsewhere. I trust Sebastian. I know Sebastian won't hurt me. He'll always be there. That thought, repeated silently in her mind, brought a strange comfort. Even as she listened to Clark's words, her heart clung to Sebastian's promise, a shield against the uncertainty of her father's mood.
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the park. Elara ran her fingers through the grass, watching the breeze ruffle the trees. Clark spoke softly about trivial things, about work and the house, but she barely heard him. Her mind wandered back to Sebastian, imagining him in the living room, watching over her, his presence steady and unwavering.
Why can't everyone be like him? she wondered again, a quiet, persistent thought that refused to fade. Why can't everyone protect me like that?
The car ride back was quiet, Clark attempting small conversation, but Elara remained lost in her thoughts. When they reached home, she slipped inside quickly, eager to find Sebastian. Even from a distance, seeing him in the living room brought relief. He looked up, gave her a small nod, and returned to the book he had been reading.
Elara's small shoulders sagged as she sat near him. "He… he apologized," she whispered.
Sebastian looked at her with calm brown eyes, dark and steady. "I know," he said simply. "And that's good. But remember… you always have me. Always."
Elara pressed herself closer, the warmth of his presence washing over her, her small chest rising and falling with the slow rhythm of calm she had never experienced before. Even after Clark's apology, after his attempts to make things right, it was Sebastian who lingered in her thoughts, in her heart, the image of safety and protection she would cling to forever.
He will always be there, she thought, and for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe it.