HE IS MY OBSESSION

The Morgan estate was an epitome of grandeur, its study no exception. The room was a sprawling space of polished mahogany, walls lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and the faint aroma of aged leather hung in the air. A roaring fire crackled in the corner, though the warmth of the flames couldn't melt the tension brewing inside. Arthur Morgan, the patriarch, sat behind his imposing desk, his voice a low growl cutting through the air like a knife.

"Four years, Caleb," Arthur said, his tone heavy with expectation.

"You've been married for four years. It's time you step up and do your duty-continue the family line."

From the other side of the room, Caleb leaned casually against a grand fireplace, his black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled up. The flickering firelight cast sharp shadows over his chiseled features. His expression was one of barely concealed disdain as he swirled the whiskey in his glass.

"Why," he drawled, his voice low and laced with mockery, "should I have children with a woman I don't love?"

Outside the heavy doors, Elara froze mid-step. She had been on her way to the study to call them for dinner, her hand raised to knock, but Caleb's words stopped her cold. Her breath hitched, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs. Her fingers trembled as she dropped her hand to her side, the cold weight of his indifference settling over her like a shroud.

Inside, Arthur leaned forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing.

"Watch your tongue, boy," he barked.

"Elara is your wife-an honorable, loyal woman. You owe her respect."

Caleb let out a bitter laugh, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Respect?" he repeated, his tone dripping with irony. He straightened, setting the glass down on a nearby table with deliberate force.

"Let me make it clear: Elara and I will never have a child. You can drop this idea now."

Arthur's fist slammed onto the desk, making the lamp rattle. "You ungrateful fool! Your arrogance will be your downfall! This isn't just about you; it's about this family, our legacy!"

The sound of a glass shattering against the wall silenced Arthur's tirade. Elara jumped at the noise, stepping back instinctively. In her haste, she pressed herself against a nearby credenza, her side scraping against its sharp corner. The sudden sting of pain spread across her waist, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest. Tears welled in her eyes, though she quickly wiped them away, forcing herself to stay quiet.

As her vision blurs with tears, she remembers the message she received only days before from Sienna Blackwell, the woman who had been an unspoken presence in her marriage since the beginning. Elara closes her eyes, replaying the image of the sonogram Sienna had sent, along with the cutting words:

"I feel sorry for you, Elara. You may have Caleb in name, but his heart is mine. And soon, we'll have what you'll never have-a child, a real family."

Elara's throat tightens, recalling how Sienna's cruelty had been there from the very start. Her thoughts swirled back to a moment that had haunted her since the first night of their marriage. That night, she had received a text from Sienna Blackwell, Caleb's lover. The message was simple-a photo, a mirror selfie. Sienna stood in casual silk pajamas, her smirk smug as ever. But it wasn't her that caught Elara's attention-it was the figure in the background, back turned, clad only in a towel. Caleb. He stood by a massive window, the city lights spilling across his toned, familiar frame.

The implication had been unmistakable, and Sienna's accompanying words had burned into Elara's mind:

"Good luck with your husband, Mrs. Morgan. You have the ring, but I have his heart-and so much more."

Even now, four years later, the image was seared into her memory. Sienna hadn't stopped. Over the years, there had been more messages, more taunts, each one a cruel reminder of where Caleb's affections truly lay. And through it all, Elara had clung to a fragile hope, convincing herself that if she worked hard enough, loved deeply enough, she could win him over.

But now, as his words from moments ago echoed in her mind, that hope felt like a cruel joke and finally that hope had died tonight.

The sound of the study door creaking open yanked her back to the present. Caleb's imposing frame filled the doorway, his black attire stark against the warm hues of the room. His sharp, piercing gaze swept over her, and his lips curled into a mocking smile.

"Well, well," he drawled, stepping closer. "Eavesdropping, Elara? Or did you just happen to be standing outside, listening to things that don't concern you?"

Elara's pulse quickened, but she said nothing, her eyes darting away from his piercing stare.

Caleb reached out, his fingers gripping her chin firmly, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Did you put Grandfather up to this?" he asked, his tone cold and accusatory.

"Your tricks have certainly improved over the years."

Her lips parted, but before she could speak, he cut her off, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Four years ago, you trapped me into this marriage with your innocent act, chasing the title of Mrs. Morgan. You've enjoyed that privilege well enough, haven't you? And now you think you can secure your position with a child?"

"Caleb, that's not-" she started, her voice trembling.

"Then what?" he interrupted, his voice rising slightly.

"Why were you lurking outside if you're not plotting something? Don't insult me by pretending you're innocent."

But now as you had already heard what are my views about you so I will tell again his words are sharp, almost amused, as if he finds pleasure in tearing her down.

"You don't have the right to have my child, Elara."

At that, something within her breaks. She'd known he didn't love her, but to hear him deny her even the hope of a family, the possibility of something more, is like a final, devastating blow. She feels her heart shatter, the shards scattering through her chest, leaving nothing but emptiness in their place.

She looked up at him, her tears threatening to spill.

"Caleb," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "in all these years... have you ever even liked me? Even a little?"

His expression didn't soften. If anything, it hardened. He released her chin, stepping back as he regarded her with icy detachment.

"What do you think?" he said simply, his voice devoid of emotion.

The words were a death knell, ringing hollowly in her ears. Elara swallowed hard, forcing down the sob rising in her throat. The weight of his indifference pressed down on her, suffocating and inescapable.

Finally, she straightened, drawing in a shaky breath.

"Thank you, Caleb," she said softly, her voice steady despite the tears glistening in her eyes.

"Thank you for finally being honest with me."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, her footsteps quiet but resolute. Her heart felt like it was splintering with every step, but she knew there was no turning back now.

Caleb watched her go, his expression unreadable. For a fleeting moment, a flicker of something-guilt, regret, or perhaps something deeper-crossed his features. But just as quickly, it was gone, buried beneath the icy facade he wore so well.

Elara's footsteps echoed faintly in the empty hallway as she walked away from Caleb, her head held high but her heart crumbling under the weight of his words. The opulent mansion, once a dream she had stepped into as a newlywed, now felt like a suffocating prison. Each ornate detail-the gilded chandeliers, the polished marble floors-mocked her, reminders of the life she had tried so hard to make her own, only to be met with icy indifference

She found herself in the nearest washroom, locking the door behind her. The bright, pristine space was as cold as her husband's gaze, the spotless mirrors reflecting a woman she barely recognized. Her trembling fingers reached for the faucet, turning on the water. The sound of it rushing down the sink was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Elara cupped her hands under the stream, splashing the cool water onto her face. Her reflection stared back at her, tear-streaked and pale. She let out a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the counter to steady herself.

"Get it together," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the water. "Just a little longer."

She reached for a hand towel, dabbing her face dry with slow, deliberate movements. The bruising ache in her chest refused to subside, but she pushed it down, burying it beneath a fragile veneer of composure.

Elara adjusted her hair, smoothing it back into place. She knew Arthur Morgan would be waiting, and she couldn't face him looking like a woman who had just had her heart shattered. It took every ounce of her strength to swallow her pain, to don the mask she had perfected over four years of being Caleb's wife.

The study door creaked open as Elara stepped inside, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Arthur was standing by the window now, his back to her, the firelight casting his silhouette in warm tones. He turned at the sound of her approach, his expression softening as he took in her composed demeanor.

"Elara, my dear," he said with a small smile. "What brings you here?

Elara offered a small, polite smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Grandpa Arthur," she began, her voice steady but distant, "I wanted to thank you for your kindness over the years. You've been more of a family to me than anyone ever has."

Arthur frowned, sensing something in her tone. "What are you saying, child?"

She hesitated, her fingers twisting together briefly before she clasped them behind her back. "I think it's time I leave," she said softly.

Though she wanted to say, "This is the time to leave this marriage." but stopped herself.

She offered him a grateful smile, though her heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces. "Thank you, Grandpa Arthur."

Elara stepped out of the mansion into the cool night air, the weight of her decision pressing heavily on her shoulders. The sprawling gardens stretched out before her, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Her steps were slow, measured, as though she were walking through a dream.

Her mind was a storm of thoughts. Sienna's pregnancy was a turning point-a clear indication that Caleb's future was already written and she wasn't a part of it. He would never allow his child to be born illegitimate, and Elara knew it was only a matter of time before he asked her for a divorce.

But this time, she wouldn't wait for him to make the first move. She had endured enough.

She paused at the edge of the grand driveway, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The thought of facing Caleb one last time, of proposing the divorce herself, filled her with a strange mixture of dread and relief.

With a deep, shuddering breath, she wiped her tears away and began walking toward the car, waiting for her at the end of the driveway. Her steps were steady, her resolve stronger with each passing second.

The night was still and quiet, with only the soft hum of the city beyond the walls of the Morgan estate. Elara lay in bed, her damp hair spread across the silk pillow. She had hoped for a dreamless sleep to escape the turmoil within her, but instead, she was pulled from her slumber by an unfamiliar sensation-gentle yet deliberate, warm yet intrusive

Soft lips grazed hers, nibbling in a way that was both punishing and seductive. The scent of expensive cologne, a mix of cedar and musk, invaded her senses. Her eyes flew open, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized who it was.

"Caleb," she whispered under her breath, her voice caught between disbelief and resignation.

He didn't stop, his movements slow and purposeful as if daring her to resist. Her body tensed beneath him, and she pushed him away with trembling hands. "What are you doing?" she snapped, sitting up and fumbling to turn on the bedside lamp.

The dim light illuminated Caleb's chiseled features, casting sharp shadows on his face. His hair was slightly disheveled, his dark eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of desire and annoyance. He was dressed casually, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, giving him an air of effortless arrogance.

"You're back," Elara muttered, her tone void of any welcome.

Did Sienna not have time for him today? Well, it might be true as she's newly pregnant? Elara thought herself.

Caleb straightened, his gaze steady and unapologetic. "What does it look like?" he said coolly, sitting at the edge of the bed as if he hadn't just crossed a line. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, his expression calm yet laced with annoyance.

He leaned back, sitting at the edge of the bed, his jaw clenched tightly. "You always know how to ruin a moment, don't you?"

Elara quickly fixed her rumpled pajamas, standing on the cold floor to put some distance between them. She drew in a deep breath, gathering her courage. "Let's get a divorce, Caleb," she said, her tone void of any warmth.

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, loud and irreversible. Caleb's head turned slowly, his dark eyes narrowing as they locked onto hers. "Are you done with your little dramatics?" he asked, his tone laced with irritation.

Elara's face remained stoic. "I'm serious," she said, her voice dry and emotionless, as though she had drained herself of all feeling just to utter those words.

Caleb's brows furrowed, his annoyance morphing into something darker. He was in out of city for business meeting and returned today at first his not so good talk with his grandpaa and then his crave for his body needs because few minutes back elara had responded to his touch and he so so deep in making love with her but now her asking about divorce seemed like a tactic to him so he asked,"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Elara didn't respond, but the silence spoke louder than any words could. Her resolve, etched into her tear-streaked face, conveyed a finality that sent a chill down Caleb's spine.

His eyes darkened. "Divorce? Just like that?" he asked, his voice sharp. "Do you think you can just walk away?"

His lips twisted into a scornful smile, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. "Let me remind you," he began, his voice sharp, "that your father and brother's company would have gone bankrupt if the Morgans hadn't stepped in to save them."

Elara's chest tightened at his words. They stabbed at old wounds, dragging her back to the cursed memory of how this all began. Her father and brother, desperate to save their failing company, had tricked her into Caleb's bed four years ago, ensuring a union that would tie her to the Morgan family which will help them to take advantage of morgan's reputation to build back their company.

Though she had tried to explain herself to Caleb countless times since then, he had never listened. He had never trusted her. To him, she was nothing more than a scheming gold digger who tricked him to bed to climb up the social ladder by becoming Mrs. Caleb Morgan.

The bitterness of those years bubbled to the surface, and she finally met his gaze with a fiery defiance. "I've already sold myself to you for four years," she said, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. "That's more than enough which I could for them."

Caleb's expression darkened further, his hands clenching at his sides. "Sold yourself?" he repeated, his tone dangerously low. "So these past four years were just a business transaction to you? They meant nothing?"

"What else could they have been?" Elara shot back, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"You've never cared for me. You've never trusted me. What we have-it's not a marriage, Caleb. It's an arrangement. It was a cold, hollow agreement that we've both endured. It was all physical because your heart has always belonged to someone else."

Caleb's jaw tightened, and his fists curled into the sheets. Her words stung, but he refused to show it. Instead, he sneered, his voice laced with mockery.

"Endured? That's rich coming from you.

Do you have any idea what you've had? The luxury, the prestige-everything I've given you aside from love." caleb not stopped there he continued,"And yet you've enjoyed every luxury I've provided. The status, the wealth-everything aside from my love. Can you really walk away from all of that?"

Elara held her head high, tears brimming in her eyes but refusing to fall. "I don't need your wealth," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging in her heart. "I don't need your status. And I certainly don't need you."

The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken pain and anger. Caleb's expression remained unreadable, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made her falter for a moment.

Her words hit him like a slap, but Caleb said nothing, his jaw tightening as he watched her turn and walk toward the door. For the first time in years, he felt the sting of her absence even before she left. And for the first time, Elara felt free-even as her heart broke.

Elara stood by the door, her hand on the cold handle, her resolve trembling but firm. "I'll meet you tomorrow at the Civil Affairs Bureau at 11. Let's end this properly," she said, her voice cracking only slightly before she turned to leave.

She had barely taken a step when a strong hand grabbed her wrist, pulling her back with an unyielding force. She gasped as Caleb spun her around, his dark eyes blazing with a mixture of frustration and something more primal.

"Let me go!" she cried out, her voice thick with anger and exhaustion. She struggled against his grip, her emotions roiling like a storm, but he didn't release her. Instead, he pulled her closer, his voice low and deliberate.

"We're not divorced yet," he said, his breath warm against her neck. "And didn't you just say you sold yourself to me? Then let me make good use of you before you leave."

Elara's heart pounded at his words-words that cut her pride like a blade. She opened her mouth to retort, but the sensation of his lips on her neck silenced her. His kisses were deliberate, hot, and unrelenting, sending a shiver down her spine even as anger surged through her veins.

"Stop it, Caleb!" she hissed, her fists pounding against his chest. But his grip only tightened, and he pushed her back onto the bed with a dominance that left her breathless.

She glared at him, fury and humiliation warring in her eyes. "Is this what you think of me? Just a body to satisfy your needs?"

Caleb didn't answer. Instead, his hands roamed her waist, his touch igniting sparks that made her traitorous body respond despite her mind screaming in protest. Elara gritted her teeth, her nails digging into his shoulders as she fought against the tide of emotions and sensations threatening to drown her.

And then his words came back to her: "Let me make good use of you."

A bitter laugh bubbled up inside her. If this was their last night, why should she let him have the upper hand? Why not take control-just this once?

With that thought, she shifted, surprising him by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her. Caleb froze for a moment, his eyes widening as she kissed him fiercely, her actions bolder and more commanding than he had ever known.

"Elara..." he murmured, his voice tinged with astonishment.

But she didn't stop. For once, she let herself act without restraint, her fingers threading through his hair as she pushed him onto his back. She climbed over him, her movements confident and deliberate, her usual hesitance replaced by a fiery determination.

Caleb looked up at her, his expression a mix of surprise and intrigue. He had never seen her like this before-this passionate, this unguarded. The reserved, dutiful woman he had married seemed to vanish, replaced by someone he barely recognized.

"You're stunned?" she asked, her voice low and breathless, a trace of defiance in her tone.

He smirked, recovering quickly from his shock. "I didn't think you had it in you," he admitted, his voice thick with amusement and desire.

Elara didn't answer. She didn't need to. For once, she wasn't thinking about Caleb's judgment, or his cold heart, or the years she had wasted trying to gain his love. Tonight wasn't about him. It was about reclaiming the pieces of herself she had buried for far too long.

And so, they lost themselves in a whirlwind of passion, their emotions clashing as much as their bodies connected. For Elara, it was an act of liberation-a fleeting moment where she could forget the pain and embrace the fire within her.

For Caleb, it was something entirely unexpected. He had seen her as predictable, tame, and even submissive. But tonight, she shattered every preconceived notion he had of her, leaving him both captivated and unsettled.

When it was over, they lay in silence, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the room. Caleb reached out as if to touch her, but she rolled away. The walls she had let down for a brief moment now rebuilt stronger than ever.

Without looking back, Elara rose from the bed, her bare feet brushing against the cool floor. She gathered her robe, wrapping it tightly around her as she stood by the window, staring out into the dark night.

Caleb watched her, his gaze unreadable. For the first time, he wondered if he had truly understood her at all-or if he had been blind to the fire hidden beneath her quiet exterior.

Elara's voice broke the silence, soft but resolute. "I'll see you at 11," she said, her tone distant, as if she had already left him behind.

And with that, she walked out of the room and went in washroom to clean herself, leaving Caleb alone in the shadows of what might have been.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. Elara stirred awake, her body aching from the events of the previous night. The fatigue weighed heavy on her limbs, and she lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling as fragments of the night replayed in her mind.

She sighed deeply, pushing herself out of bed. Last night, after washing away the remnants of Caleb's touch, she had chosen to sleep in another room. Sharing a bed with him after everything that had transpired was unthinkable.

After a quick shower, Elara dressed simply yet elegantly, donning a pale blue dress that accentuated her quiet dignity. Her face bore traces of her exhaustion, but she brushed on a light layer of makeup to mask it. She needed to look composed-if not for Caleb, then for herself.

She descended the staircase into the dining room, where a silent breakfast awaited her. The usual opulence of the table seemed hollow, the silverware gleaming under the morning light. Elara ate sparingly, her appetite dulled by the heaviness in her heart.

By 10:30, she was at the Civil Affairs Bureau, seated in a quiet corner of the waiting area. The minutes ticked by slowly, each one amplifying the knot of tension in her stomach. She glanced at her phone. 11:05. 11:20.

By 11:30, her patience wore thin. She dialed Caleb's number, her fingers trembling slightly. He picked up on the second ring, his voice cold and distant.

"Speak"

She straightened in her chair, trying to keep her voice steady. "Caleb, I've been waiting here at the Civil Affairs Bureau. It's 11:30. How long will it take you to get here?"

There was a pause before he spoke, his tone clipped. "I'm out of the city."

Elara's grip tightened on her phone, her anger flaring. "What do you mean you're out of the city? We agreed to meet here at 11. This is important!"

"There's an issue with one of the projects. I had to personally handle it," he replied, his voice devoid of any remorse or acknowledgment of her frustration.

Her anger bubbled to the surface. "You couldn't even inform me beforehand? Do you think my time is worthless?"

Caleb's tone turned even colder. "Elara, I don't have time for this. If there's nothing else, I'll hang up."

Before she could respond, the line went dead.

Elara stared at her phone, her chest heaving as she struggled to control her rising anger. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Caleb's dismissiveness felt like a slap in the face, a cruel reminder of how little she mattered to him.

As she gathered her thoughts, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. It was Isla Thompson, her best friend and one of the few people she could rely on.

"Elara! Are you free? Let's meet," Isla said cheerfully, her voice a balm to Elara's frayed nerves.

Elara hesitated for a moment, then made her decision. "Sure, Isla. Where should we meet?"

After agreeing on a café nearby, Elara left the bureau, her heart heavy but grateful for Isla's timely call. She needed the comfort of a friend, someone who could remind her that there was still kindness and warmth in the world.

The luxurious private room in the posh hotel exuded sophistication, with its velvet-upholstered chairs and crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow. Isla Thompson, the epitome of glamour and grace, sat poised on a plush armchair, her dazzling smile lighting up the room as she sipped on her latte. Isla was a well-known celebrity, a star adored by millions, and Elara's closest confidante.

When Elara arrived, Isla rose gracefully and enveloped her in a warm hug, her perfume a mix of expensive florals and confidence. "Elara!" Isla exclaimed, her voice effervescent. "You're here! And might I say, congratulations are in order-soon, you'll be free from the shackles of that lifeless marriage!"

Elara pulled back slightly, her lips curving into a faint, polite smile, but her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. She sank into the chair across from Isla and picked up the glass of water waiting for her. Her hands trembled slightly, and she tightened her grip to steady herself.

"I knew you were never a fan of that marriage," Isla continued, oblivious to Elara's silence. "Honestly, I've been waiting for this day. Caleb Morgan might be powerful, but he's also the coldest man I've ever met."

Elara's gaze drifted to the window, where the city skyline loomed, her expression blank. She knew Isla was right, but the weight of everything-the years spent trying to make her marriage work, the constant rejection, the humiliation-still pressed heavily on her chest.

Isla, sensing the tension, decided to change the subject. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned forward, her tone enthusiastic. "Alright, enough about him! Now that you're moving on, let me introduce you to some young, handsome men from my world. I know a few actors and businessmen who would kill for a chance with someone like you!"

Elara let out a soft, humorless laugh and shook her head. "Isla, thank you, but I'm not interested."

"Not interested?" Isla's perfectly arched brows lifted in surprise. "Elara, darling, you deserve someone better. Someone who will cherish you, adore you-someone who-"

Elara cut her off gently, her voice steady but tinged with determination. "Right now, I just want to focus on myself. On my business. I want to stand on my own two feet, Isla."

Isla blinked, taken aback by the resolve in Elara's tone. "You've always been capable, Elara, but-"

"No 'buts,' Isla." Elara straightened in her seat, her fingers clasped around the cool glass. "For four years, I've lived under Caleb's shadow. I tried to win his love, tried to make things work, and what did I get in return? Mockery. Rejection. I don't need a man to prove my worth-not Caleb, not anyone."

Isla studied her friend for a moment, then nodded, her expression softening. "I get it. And you're right. You don't need anyone to support you-you're brilliant, and you'll prove it to the world."

A faint smile tugged at Elara's lips, the first genuine one she'd worn all day. "Thank you, Isla. That means a lot."

"Always," Isla replied, raising her coffee cup in a mock toast. "Here's to Elara Morgan-soon to be just Elara, the unstoppable force."

They both laughed softly, the sound a small reprieve from the storm Elara was weathering. Though her heart still ached, she felt a flicker of hope. She would rebuild her life-on her terms, and with no one to dictate her worth.