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His Obsession, My Curse
img img His Obsession, My Curse img Chapter 4 I Am Not Yours
4 Chapters
Chapter 6 The Silent Cry img
Chapter 7 Enter the Other Knight img
Chapter 8 Behind Locked Doors img
Chapter 9 Punishment or Protection img
Chapter 10 A Collar of Gold img
Chapter 11 The Fire Inside img
Chapter 12 His Madness, My Chains img
Chapter 13 Lies in the Dark img
Chapter 14 Aiden's Promise img
Chapter 15 The Photo in the Drawer img
Chapter 16 The Dinner from Hell img
Chapter 17 His Obsession, Her Fear img
Chapter 18 Aiden's Hidden Feelings img
Chapter 19 Caught Between Brothers img
Chapter 20 Blood and Secrets img
Chapter 21 Running Into Fire img
Chapter 22 Safe in His Arms img
Chapter 23 The Monster at the Door img
Chapter 24 Her Choice, His Madness img
Chapter 25 The Past Repeats img
Chapter 26 The Price of Freedom img
Chapter 27 Aiden's Confession img
Chapter 28 The Truth About the Fire img
Chapter 29 Redemption Begins img
Chapter 30 Between Love and Survival img
Chapter 31 The Final Contract img
Chapter 32 His Breaking Point img
Chapter 33 The Kiss of Goodbye img
Chapter 34 The Therapy Session img
Chapter 35 The Brother's Fight img
Chapter 36 Unspoken Goodbye img
Chapter 37 The Letter img
Chapter 38 The Return img
Chapter 39 In The Shadow img
Chapter 40 Let Me Love You img
Chapter 41 The Engagement img
Chapter 42 A Mother's Curse img
Chapter 43 The Fire Revisited img
Chapter 44 The Wedding That Wasn't img
Chapter 45 The Collapse img
Chapter 46 Saving Her, Saving Himself img
Chapter 47 The ICU Confession img
Chapter 48 One Last Choice img
Chapter 49 The Obsession Ends img
Chapter 50 Crazy in Love img
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Chapter 4 I Am Not Yours

The morning air in the penthouse was still, cold, and heavy with invisible chains.

Alora stared at her reflection in the mirror, the silk blouse clinging to her frame like a second skin. The stylist had picked it-along with tailored black slacks and heels-saying it "matched the image Mr. Knight requires."

The image Mr. Knight requires.

Her lips curled bitterly.

She didn't remember signing up to be a doll in his showcase. A pretty, obedient shadow in a glass tower.

Every second inside this place twisted the knife deeper. Liam Knight might've rescued her from the wreckage of her old life-but he hadn't given her freedom.

He'd simply wrapped the cage in velvet.

With her hair pinned and her face brushed with soft makeup, she didn't even look like herself. She looked like the kind of woman who belonged in Liam's world.

Controlled. Composed. Owned.

Her stomach turned.

She walked to the closet, ignoring the endless rows of designer outfits, and pulled on a plain white tank top and jeans instead. She tore her hair from the neat bun and let it fall freely over her shoulders. No heels. No lipstick.

If Liam wanted obedience, he was about to be disappointed.

He found her in the kitchen, barefoot, drinking orange juice straight from the bottle.

"You're late," he said, leaning against the doorway in a charcoal suit.

"I didn't realize I was on your clock," she replied flatly.

His eyes trailed over her appearance, then flicked back to her eyes. "You ignored your schedule."

She shrugged. "I'm not interested in playing house with a man who thinks he owns me."

"I don't think I own you," he said calmly. "You signed that over."

Alora turned to face him, her gaze sharp. "No. I signed a contract to stay here. To survive. That doesn't mean I belong to you."

Liam stepped forward, slowly. "You live in my home. You eat my food. You wear what I give you. That's not survival, Alora. That's surrender."

Her fingers tightened around the glass. "I haven't surrendered."

His voice dropped. "Not yet."

The silence between them crackled like fire. Her breath came faster. His gaze bore into hers with something dangerous beneath it-something that made her skin heat in ways she hated.

"I'm not your toy," she said, quieter now.

"No," he agreed. "You're not. You're something far more interesting."

He moved closer until only a breath separated them. Alora stood her ground, but her heart thundered.

"You want to fight me," he said, tilting his head. "But fighting me means you're thinking about me. And that's the first step toward losing."

"I won't lose," she whispered.

He smiled faintly. "You already did. The moment you walked into my car that night."

Alora's throat tightened.

The worst part?

He was right.

She had lost something that night. Not just her relationship. Not just her freedom.

She had lost her illusion of control.

Later that afternoon, Alora walked the halls of the penthouse with purpose. She passed through the east wing, where her room was, and stopped in front of a closed door.

Liam's private suite.

She knew the rules. This was one of them. She wasn't allowed inside.

But something burned in her chest-defiance, recklessness, maybe even curiosity. She was tired of feeling like a caged pet.

So she opened the door.

The room inside was darker than the rest of the penthouse. Black walls, minimalist décor, a king-sized bed dressed in deep gray. It smelled of him-sandalwood, steel, fire.

She stepped inside.

The air felt heavier here. Like the room itself knew it was forbidden.

Her fingers trailed along the edge of the dresser, over a framed photo-one of Liam, much younger, with a woman who looked like him. Same sharp cheekbones. Same cold eyes.

His mother?

There was something haunting in the way he held her in the photo. Not affection-more like reverence. Or maybe guilt.

"Curious little thing, aren't you?"

Alora froze.

Liam stood in the doorway, arms folded.

Her heart jumped, but she refused to look guilty.

"You never said what would happen if I broke the rules," she said.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "And here I thought you weren't interested in consequences."

She turned to face him, chin raised. "I'm not scared of you."

"You should be," he said softly.

But he didn't move to punish her.

Instead, he walked past her, to the window, and stood in silence for a moment.

Then, he spoke-quietly, almost too quietly.

"My mother used to say that love was a sickness. That it makes people forget who they are."

Alora blinked.

He didn't look at her. Just kept staring out at the skyline.

"She died when I was fifteen," he continued. "And I watched my father drink himself into madness trying to bring her back."

Something cold crawled through her veins.

"I learned early," he said, "that love is a weapon. And I've spent my life making sure no one could ever use it against me again."

Alora didn't speak.

"And then you showed up." He turned to face her. "Bleeding. Drenched. Broken. But still fierce. Still burning."

His eyes darkened.

"And I realized I wanted to hold that fire. Even if it burned me."

Her breath caught.

"I'm not yours," she said again, quieter this time.

"Not yet," he murmured. "But you will be."

He moved closer.

She backed up until her spine hit the edge of the dresser.

His hand lifted-not to touch her, but to rest beside her head.

"I won't force you," he said. "But I will break every defense you have until you offer yourself willingly."

"That'll never happen."

His mouth curled. "That's what makes it fun."

Their breath mingled. The space between them felt like a battlefield. And her body betrayed her with the tiniest tremble-a sign he noticed, a sign he loved.

But then she did something unexpected.

She reached past him, opened the door, and stepped out.

She didn't run.

Didn't slam it shut.

She just left him standing in his own darkness.

That night, Alora couldn't sleep.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, heart racing.

Because the scariest part wasn't Liam's power.

It was her response to it.

He made her feel something.

After all the betrayal, the lies, the heartbreak-he stirred something alive in her.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

Because monsters weren't supposed to feel.

And broken girls weren't supposed to want them.

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