Blessing's Library

👀🫦DIRTY OBSESSION🫦👀
[...Her Father,My Ruin…]

|A•Dark•Mafia•Story|

🚫 Unauthorized Repost Is Strictly Forbidden

✍️ WRITTEN BY BLESSING

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 3&4

[The Obsidian House]

The gates opened like a mouth.

Sylvie watched them swing inward. Black iron, taller than any gate she had ever seen, topped with spikes that caught the moonlight. Beyond them, a driveway stretched long and straight, lined with trees that had been trimmed into perfect, unnatural shapes. The car tires crunched over white gravel.

She had stopped shaking somewhere between the city and here or maybe she had just gone numb.

Estrella hadn't spoken since giving her name. She drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gun in her lap. Her profile was sharp,high cheekbones, a jaw that looked carved from stone, eyes that never seemed to blink.

Sylvie stole glances at her in the dark.

She didn't know what to say. Thank you felt too small. Who are you felt too dangerous.

So she said nothing.

The mansion appeared through the trees like something out of a dream or a nightmare.

It was massive. Three stories of pale stone and dark windows, with columns framing the entrance and a sweeping staircase that led to double doors tall enough to swallow a person whole. Lights burned in some of the windows warm, golden but others stayed dark, like eyes that had been closed on purpose.

Estrella pulled the car to a stop at the base of the stairs. A man appeared immediately, as if he had been waiting. He was older, dressed in a black suit, his face carefully blank.

"Miss Vescari." He opened her door with a slight bow of his head. "Welcome home."

"Matteo." Estrella stepped out, tucking the gun into the back of her waistband. "Get someone to take the car.

Matteo's eyes flicked to Sylvie, still sitting in the passenger seat, her torn clothes barely covered by the jacket Estrella had thrown at her sometime during the drive. His expression didn't change not a flicker of surprise, not a hint of curiosity. He had clearly learned long ago not to question.

"Of course," he said, and stepped back.

Estrella walked around the car and opened Sylvie's door.

"Come on."

Sylvie climbed out on unsteady legs. The gravel shifted under her feet. The mansion loomed above her, impossibly large, impossibly real. She felt like a speck of dust on a marble floor.

Estrella didn't wait. She started up the stairs, and Sylvie had no choice but to follow.

---

The inside was worse.

Not worse because it was ugly,it was beautiful. Cathedral ceilings. Chandeliers that looked like they belonged in museums. Floors so polished Sylvie could see her own ragged reflection staring back at her. Paintings on the walls that probably cost more than the Conti house.

It was worse because it made her feel small.

Estrella walked through it all like she didn't see it. Past the grand staircase, down a hallway lined with doors, through a sitting room where two men in dark suits played cards and didn't look up.

One of them younger, with a scar cutting through his eyebrow did glance at Sylvie. His eyes traveled over her torn clothes, her bruised face, the way she clutched her bag like a lifeline. He said nothing. But his mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

Sylvie looked away.

Estrella stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

"Stay here."

The room was small by mansion standards. A bed. A dresser. A window that looked out onto nothing but darkness. It was plain, almost bare, but it was clean. It was safe.

Sylvie stepped inside.

"I'll come back," Estrella said.

She closed the door before Sylvie could respond.

---

Sylvie stood in the middle of the room for a long moment. Then she walked to the bed and sat down slowly, as if her body might break if she moved too fast.

The mattress was soft. Softer than anything she had ever slept on.

She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

And then, finally, she cried.

Not loud nor dramatic. Just quiet tears that slipped down her cheeks and disappeared into the fabric of Estrella's jacket. She cried for the fight with Mara. For her aunt's cold eyes. For the men in the alley and the way her clothes had torn like paper. For her parents, who had left her alone in a world that didn't want her.

She cried until there was nothing left.

Then she wiped her face, pulled out her inhaler, and took two slow pulls.

She was alive. She didn't know why. She didn't know what came next.

But she was alive.

---

[The Obsidian House | The Don's Study]

Estrella didn't knock.

She pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped into her father's study like she owned it. because in some ways, she did.

The room was dark. Rich. Wood-paneled walls lined with books that had never been read. A desk the size of a small country. A window that looked out over the estate, showing nothing but black sky and distant lights.

Behind the desk sat Alessandro Vescari.

He didn't look up when she entered. He was reading something a document, a report, she didn't care. His pen moved across the paper in slow, deliberate strokes. He was a man who did everything deliberately. Every word. Every gesture. Every kill.

Estrella waited.

She had learned patience from him. She had also learned how to weaponize it.

Finally, he set the pen down and lifted his eyes.

Alessandro Vescari was not an old man. Late forties, maybe. But he carried age in his stillness, in the way he watched the world like it was a chessboard and he had already planned ten moves ahead. His hair was dark, threaded with silver at the temples. His eyes were the same color as Estrella's cold, calculating, impossible to read.

"Report," he said.

Estrella reached into her jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She placed it on his desk.

"Done," she said, her voice flat. "The De Luca shipment is secured. The men who tried to intercept it have been... handled."

Alessandro glanced at the paper but didn't pick it up."You went alone."

It wasn't a question.

Estrella lifted her chin. "I didn't need anyone."

"You took no backup." His voice was quiet, measured. "No extraction team. No one knew where you were."

"I knew where I was." Estrella replied.

His jaw tightened. A muscle jumped in his cheek. Estrella had seen that muscle before right before he put a bullet in someone's head.

"Do you think this is a game?" He leaned back in his chair, but his eyes never left her face. "Do you think I sent you on that mission because I wanted to test your independence?"

"I think you sent me because you knew I could handle it." She said

"I sent you because I wanted you to learn." He stood, and the chair scraped back against the floor. "You are my daughter. My heir. And you walk into danger like you have something to prove."

"Maybe I do." She said causally like his father's words didn't mean anything to her.

"To who?" He stepped around the desk, closer now. "To me? You think I don't know what you're capable of? You think I need you to prove it with blood?"

Estrella held his gaze. She didn't flinch.

"I don't need a babysitter, Papa."

"No." He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could smell his cologne, something dark and expensive. "You need a guard. You are not invincible, Estrella. You are not immortal. And one day, your arrogance is going to get you killed."

"Then I'll die doing what I want." The words hung between them.

Alessandro stared at her. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. anger, yes, but also something else. Something softer. Something that looked almost like fear.

Then it was gone.

"You will take backup next time," he said, his voice dropping back to that cold, controlled register. "Or I will send you on assignments so boring you'll beg for death."

Estrella's mouth twitched. "Yes,Papa."

He turned away, walking back to his desk.
"Is that all?"

"No." Estrella paused. "I brought someone home."

Alessandro stopped. "Someone."

"A girl." Estrella kept her voice casual, but her shoulders were tense. "I found her in an alley. Three men were…" She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.

Her father turned, his expression unreadable."Since when do you collect strays?"

"Since tonight." Estrella shrugged. "She had nowhere to go. I gave her a room. She'll be gone by morning."

Alessandro watched her for a long moment. Then he sat back down and picked up his pen.

"Fine. But she doesn't leave that room without my permission." His eyes met hers, cold and absolute. "I don't want strangers wandering my house."

"Understood."Estrella turned to leave.

"Estrella."

She stopped at the door.

"The next time you bring someone into my home," her father said quietly, "you will tell me before they are inside my walls."

She didn't turn around.

"Of course, Papa."

She walked out and closed the door behind her.

---

[The Conti House| 11:30 p.m.]

Signora Conti was pacing.

The sitting room was dark except for a single lamp, and she had worn a path in the carpet from the window to the fireplace and back again. Her silk blouse was wrinkled now. Her perfectly styled hair had come loose from its pins.

Mara sat on the couch, watching her mother with wary eyes.

“Mom, you're going to wear a hole in the floor,” Mara said, trying to lighten the tension in the room.

“Be quiet,” Signora snapped without even looking at her.

“But….” Mara started, her voice uncertain.

“I said be quiet.” Signora finally turned her head, her sharp glare making Mara shrink back.

Mara flinched and looked down at her phone.

Signora checked her watch for the tenth time in five minutes. They should have called by now. They should have confirmed. It was supposed to be simple. Easy. Clean.

She stopped pacing and stared at the phone on the side table.

It rang.

She snatched it up on the second ring, pressing it to her ear with an impatient expression.

“Yes?” she answered curtly.

“It’s Loin.”Something in his voice made her stomach drop. It was tight. Wound too fast. Like a wire about to snap.

She gripped the phone harder, her brows drawing together.

“What happened?” she demanded.

A pause. Too long. She could hear him breathing on the other end, heavy and uneven.

“It failed,” he said finally, the words coming out like they were being dragged from him.

The words hit her like a slap.

“What do you mean it failed?” she demanded, her voice rising despite herself. She pushed herself away from the table, disbelief flashing across her face.

“There was someone.” Loin's breathing was uneven, staticky through the phone. “A woman. She came out of nowhere. She shot Zland and Miloo. I barely got out.”

Signora's grip tightened on the phone until her knuckles went white.

“You barely got out?” she repeated slowly, her voice dropping to something dangerous. Her eyes narrowed as anger began to replace the shock. “What about the girl?”

“She’s gone. The woman took her,” Loin replied, his voice tense.

Gone.

The word burned through her. After everything. After all the planning. After finally finding a way to be rid of the little parasite once and for all some woman had ruined it.

“Do you know who she was?” Signora asked coldly, forcing her voice to remain steady.

“No.” Loin hesitated before continuing. “Black car. Dark hair. She had a gun and she knew how to use it.”

Signora closed her eyes. Her chest heaved with the effort of not screaming.

“Find her.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of a command. “Find both of them. Do you understand me? I don't care what it takes. I don't care who you have to bribe or kill. That girl is not allowed to walk away.”

“And the woman?” Loin asked cautiously.

Signora opened her eyes. They were cold.

“Kill her,” she ordered.

She hung up.

Mara was staring at her, eyes wide. “Mom? What happened?” she asked nervously.

Signora turned to her daughter, and for a moment,just a moment her mask slipped. The anger, the frustration, the fear it all flickered across her face.

Then she smiled. A Warm reassuring one. The smile she had perfected over years of pretending everything was fine.

“Nothing, baby. Go to bed. Everything is under control,” she assured her gently.

Mara hesitated, studying her mother for another moment before finally standing and walking toward the stairs.

When she was gone, Signora sank onto the couch and dropped her face into her hands.

Somewhere out there, Sylvie was alive.

And she knew things. Things about this family. Things that could ruin everything Signora had built.

She lifted her head and looked toward the window.

“I will find you,” she whispered to the empty room, her expression hardening. “And when I do, you'll wish those men had finished the job.”

TBC...
What do you all think about Estrella? 👀

Now, Signora wants her dead too. 😭

I laughed in Spanish. 😂🇪🇸

LIKE, COMMENT, AND SHARE! ❤️

👀🫦DIRTY OBSESSION🫦👀
[...Her Father,My Ruin…]

|A•Dark•Mafia•Story|

🚫 Unauthorized Repost Is Strictly Forbidden

✍️ WRITTEN BY BLESSING

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 1&2

[The Conti House]

The first thing Sylvie registered was the sound of her own scalp tearing.

Then the stool hit the floor.

Mara had her by the hair, yanking so hard Sylvie's vision blurred at the edges. She twisted her fingers deeper into Mara's dark strands and pulled right back. Neither of them screamed.They were both too proud for that.

"You thief," Mara hissed, spit flying from her lips.

"I didn't touch your stupid bracelet!" Sylvie gritted out.

"Liar!" Mara's free hand came up and slapped her. Open palm. Hard enough to snap Sylvie's head sideways. The crack of it echoed off the thin walls.

Sylvie saw red.

She lunged, and they went down together in a tangle of limbs and fury. The hairbrush skidded across the floor. A picture frame toppled from the nightstand. Somewhere in the chaos, Sylvie felt Mara's nails rake down her cheek, hot, stinging lines that would bleed by morning.

She didn't care. She was so tired of caring.

"You started it," Sylvie gasped, breathless, as she got a fistful of Mara's hair again.

"I didn't do anything!" Mara shrieked.

"You called me a thief!" Sylvie replied

"Because you are one!" Mara said trying to grab more hold of Sylvie's hair.

Sylvie yanked harder. Mara howled and retaliated, twisting her grip until Sylvie's eyes watered. They rolled across the floor, knocking over a lamp, sending books scattering. The room already small and suffocating became a battlefield of two girls who had been circling each other for years.

Neither of them heard the front door open downstairs.

Neither of them heard the footsteps.

---

Mrs. Signora Conti stepped out of her black Benz with the quiet satisfaction of a woman who had just won an argument her husband hadn't been present for. She smoothed down her silk blouse, adjusted her designer bag on her shoulder, and smiled at the security guard who rushed to close the car door for her.

"Welcome home, ma'am." The security guard greeted with a bow.

"Thank you." She glanced up at the house. "My daughter didn't go out today?"

"No, ma'am. Nobody came or left." The guard replied.

"Good." Signora walked toward the front door, heels clicking against the paved walkway. "She's been pushing her luck lately. I'll deal with her when I…"

She stopped.

The screaming from upstairs filtered through the open door.

Her expression shifted from satisfaction to cold, controlled fury in the span of a heartbeat. She dropped her bag on the console table and climbed the stairs with deliberate steps trying to registered when the noise is coming from.

She pushed open the bedroom door and took in the scene.

Mara her beautiful, perfect Mara on the floor with scratches down her face, hair wild, red finger-marks blooming on her pale cheeks.

And Sylvie. Sitting there with her torn nightdress, her own face marked, her chest heaving.

"What is the meaning of this?" She asked, her voice was ice and her eyes were fixed on Sylvie.

"She started it," Sylvie said, her voice raw.

"And that is why you had to disfigure my daughter's face?" She said looking furious.

"Mom, that's a lie," Mara cut in, already shifting her weight, letting her lip tremble. "I only came to ask if she had seen my bracelet. She…she just attacked me. I don't know why. I was only asking."

Sylvie's mouth opened,then closed back and opened again.

"That's a lie, Mara." Her voice cracked. "I didn't hit you for nothing. You came in here and started throwing my things around because I said I hadn't seen it. You slapped me first. You…"

"Enough." Signora's gaze was a blade. "Is that why you had to fight my daughter? Because she asked you a simple question?"

"She….she…"The words died in Sylvie's throat. What was the point? What had ever been the point?

"Shut that trap you called mouth before I shut it for you." Signora stepped closer, her perfume thick and cloying, her eyes void of anything resembling mercy. "This is the last time you put your hands on my daughter. Do you understand me? The last time. If it happens again, you will have no one to blame but yourself for what comes next."

She turned, pulling Mara by the hand. "Come, baby. Let's clean those scratches."

The door clicked shut behind them.

Sylvie sat in the wreckage of the room. The lamp lay on its side. The picture frame was cracked. Her hair was a mess of tangles, and her cheek burned where Mara's nails had broken skin.

She didn't cry.

She crawled to the corner where her bed met the wall and pulled her knees to her chest. The room smelled like sweat mixed with the perfume Signora had and something olde

Her mind drifted somewhere she usually kept locked.

"Papa, this ice cream is so sweet."

Her father's laugh. warm and safe. His hand ruffling her hair.

"I knew you would love it, sweetheart."

The memory fractured.

Headlights,the screech of tires. Her mother's scream. Then nothing but white noise and the sound of her own heartbeat in a hospital room. She was eight years old. When she woke up, her parents were gone, and the world had become a place that didn't want her.

Her uncle had come eventually. Fourteen and already hollow, she'd followed him to the Conti house like a stray dog hoping for scraps.

Six years later, she was still waiting for scraps.

Her aunt treated her like a servant, leftovers for dinner, hand-me-downs that didn't fit, a room that got no sunlight. Mara, the golden child, took whatever she wanted and blamed Sylvie when things went missing. Her uncle was always away on business, unreachable, a ghost who paid the bills and nothing else.

Sylvie had no phone. No money. No way out.

The only thing she owned the only thing they had never managed to take from her sat in the drawer beside her bed.

She reached for it now, fingers trembling, and pulled out the inhaler.

Her chest had tightened. It always did after the fights. She took two slow pulls, then a third, closing her eyes as the medicine opened her lungs. Asthma. Another gift from a childhood that had been stolen from her.

When her breathing settled, she climbed onto the thin mattress and lay on her back, staring at the water stain on the ceiling.

Tomorrow would be the same. And the day after. And the day after that.

She closed her eyes.

---

[The One House]

Across the city, in a part of town that didn't make it onto maps, three men sat around a scratched wooden table. Cigarette smoke curled toward the ceiling. A single bulb swung overhead, casting weak yellow light on a worn photograph.

A girl. Dark hair. Tired eyes. Nothing special.

"She looks tattered," Zland muttered, tapping ash onto the floor. "Why would anyone pay to rough up a piece of trash like this?"

Miloo shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "You never know. Maybe there's something prettier hiding under all that. Some of them clean up nice."

"Maybe." Zland squinted at the photo. "Still. Seems like small work for us."

"Money's money." Miloo grinned, showing his yellow teeth. "And I don't mind getting a little rough with a pretty thing."

The third man,Loin stood by the window, phone in hand. He didn't smoke. He watched the street below with the patience of a predator who had done this many times before.

"Enough chatter." His voice cut through theirs like a blade. "When is she coming out?"

"Lady said they'd have her on the street by ten," Zland said. "Kicked out, easy pickings."

"Good." Loin turned from the window. His eyes were flat, dead things. "We grab her, we do what we're paid to do, we dump her where no one will look. Clean job."

"And if someone sees?" Zland asked,their usual code way.

Loin smiled. "Then we handle them too."

They were The One House crew. Everyone in the district knew the name. They handled the jobs no one else would touch beatings, debt collection, disappearances. People crossed the street when they saw them coming. If you owed money or made enemies, you didn't want to end up on their list.

Tonight, Sylvie Whitmore was on their list.

---

[The Conti Mansion 9:45 p.m.]

The house had gone quiet in the way it always did after a fight. Signora and Mara had retreated downstairs. The television murmured. Sylvie could hear the occasional laugh. Mara's, bright and careless, as if nothing had happened.

She stayed in her room, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting.

She didn't have to wait long.

The door opened without a knock.

Signora stood in the doorway, arms folded, face unreadable."Get up."

Sylvie's stomach dropped. "What?"

"I said get up." Signora's voice was calm. Too calm. "I don't want you under this roof tonight. You've caused enough trouble. Pack a few things and leave. You can come back tomorrow when you've learned how to stay in your place."

Sylvie stared at her. "It's almost ten o'clock. Where am I supposed to go?"

Signora's expression didn't change. "That is not my problem. You should have thought about that before you put your hands on my daughter." She paused, letting the words sink in. "Be out of this house in twenty minutes. If I come back and find you still here, I will throw your things into the street myself."

She turned and walked away.

The door clicked shut.

Sylvie sat frozen for a long moment.

She stood after awhile.

From under the bed, she pulled out a small, worn duffel bag. It was already half-packed. She always kept it ready, just in case. A change of clothes. A toothbrush. The photograph of her parents, hidden between the pages of an old book.

She added her inhaler.

Then she walked to the door, down the stairs, past the sitting room where Signora and Mara sat watching television like nothing had happened.

Neither of them looked up.

Sylvie opened the front door and stepped outside.

It locked behind her.

---

The street was empty. The security light above the gate cast a weak yellow glow over the pavement. A cold wind slipped through her thin jacket, and she pulled it tighter around herself.

She started walking.

She didn't know where she was going. She just knew she couldn't stay.

Her footsteps echoed in the silence. The houses on either side were dark, their windows like closed eyes.

She walked faster.

---

She heard them before she saw them.

Footsteps. Behind her. Too close.

Sylvie's heart slammed against her ribs. She clutched her bag tighter and quickened her pace.

"Hey… pretty thing."A hand grabbed her arm and spun her around.

Zland's face loomed in the darkness. Grinning. Then Miloo stepped out from the shadows, and Loin behind him.

"We've been waiting for you," Loin said softly. "Your aunt made it very easy."

Sylvie opened her mouth to scream.

Miloo's hand clamped over it.

They dragged her into the narrow gap between two buildings. Her bag hit the ground. Zland shoved her against the brick wall, and she felt the rough stone scrape her back through her torn clothes.

"Hold her still," Zland muttered.

Fabric ripped. Cold air touched her skin.

She fought. God, she fought, kicking, clawing, twisting. But there were three of them. Three against one. And she was so tired. So impossibly tired.

This is it, she thought. This is how it ends.

But then…

Headlights.

A black car came around the corner too fast, tires screaming against the asphalt. It stopped at an angle, blocking the only way out.

The driver's door flew open.

A woman stepped out.

She was tall. Dressed in black. Her hair was pulled back, and her eyes cold, sharp, unreadable swept over the scene in a single glance.

Sylvie's torn top. The three men. The alley.

The woman's expression didn't change.

"Get your hands off her."

Loin laughed. "Walk away, princess. This doesn't concern…"

The woman already had the gun in her hand.

She didn't give a second warning.

The first shot cracked through the alley. Zland screamed and dropped, clutching his leg. Blood spread fast across his trousers.

Miloo lunged toward her.

She shot him in the thigh without blinking. He collapsed with a raw shout of pain.

Loin was already running. The woman raised the gun, but he disappeared around the corner before she could fire again. She lowered the weapon slowly, breathing hard through her nose.

She looked down at the two men writhing on the ground. Then at the empty mouth of the alley.

"I should chase him," she muttered. "But I'm too fu***ng tired for that tonight."

She turned her eyes back to the men.

Her voice was quiet and deadly."Tell your friend something for me. I will be back for all three of you. That's a promise."

Then she looked at Sylvie."Get in the car."

Sylvie's legs were shaking so badly she almost fell. She grabbed her bag, held her torn clothes closed with one trembling hand, and climbed into the passenger seat.

The woman got behind the wheel, rested the gun on her lap, and drove out of the alley without a backward glance.

Inside the car, the only sound was Sylvie's uneven breathing and the low hum of the engine.

---

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Sylvie stared straight ahead. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. She could still feel the brick against her back, still feel Miloo's hand over her mouth, still feel the cold air on her skin.

She should say something. Thank you. Who are you. Where are we going.

But the words wouldn't come.

The woman drove in silence, her eyes fixed on the road. The gun rested on her thigh like it belonged there.

Finally, she spoke."You're bleeding."

Sylvie touched her cheek. Her fingers came away red.

"It's nothing," she whispered.

The woman glanced at her. Something flickered in her eyes curiosity, maybe. Or recognition.

"It's not nothing." She reached into the console between them, pulled out a small first-aid kit, and tossed it onto Sylvie's lap. "Clean yourself up."

Sylvie fumbled with the kit. Her hands were still shaking.

"What's your name?" the woman asked.

"S-Sylvie." She said

"Sylvie." The woman tested the name like it was a piece of fruit she was deciding whether to bite. "I'm Estrella."

She didn't offer her hand. She didn't smile. She just turned her eyes back to the road and pressed her foot harder on the gas.

The city blurred past the windows.

Sylvie didn't ask where they were going.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

TBC

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NEW BOOK ALERT‼️

👀🫦DIRTY OBSESSION🫦👀
[...Her Father, My Ruin…]

🚫 Unauthorized Repost Is Strictly Forbidden

✍️ WRITTEN BY BLESSING

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

|A•Dark•Mafia•Story|

TROPES
🚫 Forbidden Love
🥀 Best Friend's Father
🩸 Mafia Don
👀 Obsessive Hero
⚠️ Morally Grey Hero
🔥 Age-Gap Romance
🤫 Secret Relationship
💔 Best Friend's Betrayal
🗝️ Dark Family Secrets
🥀 Possessive Hero
⚔️ Mafia Family Drama
🩸 Power & Control
🔥 Slow-Burn Obsession
💔 Love vs Loyalty
🚪 Secrets Behind Closed Doors
🔞 Mature Themes


•PROLOGUE•

[The Whisper]

For those who have ever wanted what they knew they shouldn't.

For the ones who crossed the line, then wondered if the line was ever meant to exist.

This story is for you.

Enter carefully. Some obsessions are impossible to escape.

---

[The Confession]

They say love is supposed to come naturally.

Mine didn't.

Mine came like a knife in the dark unexpected, unforgiving, and buried so deep I couldn't tell where it ended and I began.

I never imagined I'd fall for a man I was never supposed to look at twice.

A man old enough to know better.

A man powerful enough to destroy anyone who stood in his way.

A man who was forbidden in every way that mattered.

Before him, I was nobody.

Then I met her.

She taught me how to speak louder, walk taller, and stop apologising for existing. She trusted me with everything.

Including him.

I should have been grateful.

Instead, I became the one thing she could never forgive me for.

---

[The Moment Before]

I still remember the first time I saw him.

Not the first time we met,that came later. The first time I truly saw him.

I was standing in a hallway, still trembling from the night before. I didn't know where I was going. I only knew I couldn't stay in that room any longer.

And then he appeared.

At the end of the corridor.

A silhouette against the dim light,he didn't speak, he didn't move.

He just... looked at me.

I should have looked away.

I should have turned around and gone back to my place and never let myself wonder who he was.

But I didn't.

I stood there, frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

And he watched me the way a predator watches prey.

Not hungry, Just... patient.

That was the moment.

The moment I should have run,the moment I didn't.

---

[The Choice]

Now I have two choices.

Tell the truth...to my best friend or keep loving the man who could destroy us both.

I wish I could say I chose the first.

I wish I could tell you I was strong enough to walk away.

But I didn't.

Because somewhere between fear and fascination, his obsession became my weakness.

And the worst part?

I didn't want him to stop, I wanted more.

---

[The Whisper Returns]

Some obsessions are impossible to escape.

But this is mine.

---
🖤 WELCOME TO DIRTY OBSESSION 🫦

So... how are we feeling about the prologue? 👀

Should I continue?

Just so we're clear... this story is MATURE. 🔞

There will be obsession, danger, forbidden moments... and let's just say, things are going to get interesting.

LIKE COMMENT AND SHARE For Chapter one