Special Edition: Trapped in His Love Obsession

Livia Shelby hadn't exactly dreamed of marrying Damian Alexander, the country's most untouchable CEO. But with her father's company hanging by a thread, she had no choice. Marriage was the only deal that could keep her family afloat.

From day one, living with Damian felt less like marriage and more like imprisonment.

Her mighty husband had rules-so many rules-that if she printed them out, the list would be thick enough to serve as a doorstop.

The funny thing was, it really had been printed out. Brown, Damian's overzealous assistant, once compiled them into a bound manual-complete with a table of contents, color-coded tabs, and footnotes.

And yet, the unthinkable happened. Beneath his cold, ruthless exterior, Damian began to bend. Livia's soft stubbornness and clueless innocence slipped under his skin until he found himself in a terrifying situation: actually falling for her.

But their path wasn't smooth. Far from it.

Luckily, there was also Hansel Brown-Damian's terrifyingly loyal assistant. To the rest of the world, Brown was flawless, the man who made Damian's empire run like clockwork. To Livia, however, he was the second most infuriating man alive. Naturally, the first was her husband.

So when Livia discovered she was pregnant, she decided it was the perfect time to stir chaos.

Her laugh-low and mischievous-echoed through the Alexander estate. The smile on her lips was the kind that made grown men sweat. And Brown, unfortunately, was standing right there.

That smile wasn't only aimed at Damian. It was aimed straight at him.

"What now?" Brown muttered, eyelid twitching. "She's plotting again. Of course I'll get roped in. Fine-bring it on, miss. Don't test me; I'll get it done."

He wasn't wrong.

Cravings. Cravings. Cravings.

The word haunted Damian like a curse.

He heard it in the boardroom when investors spoke.

He heard it in the elevator chime.

He swore he even heard it echoing from the faucet when he brushed his teeth.

Everywhere he went-cravings.

And as if the universe wanted him to suffer, Dr. Harris had to add fuel to the fire.

"Damian," the doctor chuckled, "it looks like your baby is already taking revenge on you."

Damian's jaw locked. 'Revenge? For what, exactly?! I haven't even met the little traitor yet!'

His rational brain screamed at him to argue. To shout down this ridiculous superstition about pregnancy cravings. But then... he saw Livia.

His curly-haired, nauseous, impossibly stubborn wife.

And all he could do was nod, surrender, and prepare himself to track down whatever bizarre, impossible item she wanted next.

Damn cravings, he cursed silently. This is only the beginning, isn't it?

The First Demand

It started small.

"Damian," Livia whispered one midnight, her voice trembling. "I need pickles."

"Pickles?" he repeated, glancing at the clock. "It's two in the morning."

"Yes," she said sweetly, patting his cheek. "Pickles. With... chocolate sauce."

Brown almost fainted when Damian called him.

"Brown," his boss's voice came sharp through the phone, "find me pickles. And a jar of chocolate sauce. Immediately."

"Sir, it's two in the-"

"Immediately."

And so, Brown sprinted through the night like a soldier on a life-or-death mission, eventually returning with the sacred items. Livia ate three bites, declared herself cured, and fell asleep-leaving Damian staring at the half-eaten mess like it was his greatest enemy.

Escalation

But that was only the warm-up.

Next came the demand for mangoes... from Thailand. Not just any mangoes. The first harvest mangoes. Imported. Fresh. Sweet. And delivered before sunrise.

Damian nearly broke three international trade laws trying to get them.

Then came bubble tea-"but only from the tiny shop near my college campus," Livia declared. Damian had his entire security team tailing her old classmates just to find the exact recipe.

Then came the most insulting demand of all.

"Damian," she said innocently one afternoon, "I want fried chicken. From your rival's restaurant."

Brown swore he saw a vein explode on Damian's forehead.

"My rival?" Damian growled. "Of all the fast-food chains in this entire country, you want the one owned by my business competitor?"

Livia fluttered her lashes. "The baby wants it."

And that was that.

...

The Banished CEO

"Don't come near me!" Livia shrieked one night, her face pale. "I can't stand the smell of you. Even the way you breathe is irritating!"

A pillow flew across the room and smacked Damian squarely in the chest.

"Couch. Now."

The mighty Damian Alexander, master of the business world, could only sigh, clutch the pillow in defeat, and march obediently toward the sofa.

Brown nearly wept when he saw it. His invincible boss, banished to the couch by a woman half-asleep and armed with morning sickness.

"Sir," Brown whispered the next morning, "you... look like you've aged ten years overnight."

Damian's glare could have melted steel. "Don't. Say. A word."

The Secret Notebook

Livia, meanwhile, was busy scribbling away in her secret little notebook, hidden beneath the wardrobe. The sound of her pen scratching was accompanied by occasional evil giggles.

"Perfect," she whispered. "Pregnancy is the ultimate excuse. If I play my cards right, Damian won't be able to refuse me anything."

Her list grew longer by the day:

Restart her online shop.

Sneak out of the mansion without bodyguards.

Go shopping for baby clothes.

Convince Damian to buy her that ridiculous limited-edition handbag.

Maybe... just maybe... make him sing karaoke.

Every craving was just another stepping stone toward freedom.

Damian's Breaking Point

Damian, however, was reaching the edge of his sanity.

His assistant caught him one morning standing in front of the pantry, eyes bloodshot, muttering to himself.

"Cravings. Mangoes. Pickles. Bubble tea. Fried chicken. Next it'll be caviar mixed with gummy bears. Or pizza sprinkled with gold dust. She's plotting my downfall, Brown. My complete and utter downfall."

"Sir," Brown said cautiously, "maybe... it's just hormones?"

Damian whipped around, eyes narrowing like he'd just been stabbed in the back.

"Don't you dare side with her."

Brown lifted both hands in surrender. "I wasn't-"

"Don't."

A beat of silence. Brown cleared his throat. "You're right. The young lady is... ridiculous. Maybe I should at least warn-"

Damian's glare could have melted steel. "Don't you dare. She is my wife. Only I get to suffer."

...

The Storm to Come

And poor Damian? He had no idea what storm was about to hit him.

Because Livia wasn't slowing down. Her confidence was only growing.

Every craving was a test. Every demand a new battlefield. And every time Damian gave in, her smile grew brighter, sharper, more mischievous.

Between Livia's antics, Brown's constant stress, and Damian's rapidly crumbling pride, one thing was certain-this household was about to become a comedy of cravings, chaos, and the sweetest kind of revenge.

Alexander Group Headquarters

Damian Alexander, the mighty owner of the towering Alexander Group building, stepped out of the elevator with a storm cloud on his face. It was as if thunderheads were rolling above his head, ready to strike down anyone foolish enough to get too close.

Right behind him, as always, was Assistant Brown. Calm. Expressionless. Not a single wrinkle of worry on his face-though in truth, his mind was juggling a dozen problems at once.

As they neared the president's office, Brown lengthened his stride. The secretary staff rose from their desks, bowing respectfully. Brown swung the door open, and Damian swept inside with a scowl that could curdle milk. The staff sat back down immediately, their hands flying across keyboards with the determination of soldiers marching into battle.

Inside the office, Damian stopped cold. He turned sharply, eyes blazing, and pinned Brown with a glare hot enough to set the carpet on fire.

"You heard what he said."

Damian strode forward two steps, then suddenly grabbed the front of Brown's suit jacket. His voice thundered.

"He said my child wants revenge. Revenge-for what, huh? You know how much I love Livia. I love her, and I would do anything for her!"

It was the longest speech Brown had ever heard his boss deliver in one breath. When it was over, Damian released him with a sharp exhale, even patting his assistant's shoulder as if that made up for nearly strangling him.

"Tell me, Brown. Do you think Livia's cravings are really... revenge? From my own child?"

Brown said nothing. He knew better. At times like this, silence was safer than honesty.

But Damian wasn't done. He stormed back to the hospital-again-demanding the doctors explain his wife's pregnancy cravings one more time, this time with a different answer. Something that would soothe his restless heart.

Instead, all he got was the same nonsense dressed up in different words. Again and again, they circled back to the same idea: cravings were normal, cravings were harmless. But Damian didn't want normal. He wanted certainty. He wanted proof his unborn child wasn't plotting against him.

Damian wanted east. The doctors kept marching him west.

"Brown," Damian growled back in his office, "do you believe what they're saying too?"

His tone was so sharp it warned Brown that one wrong word would cost him his head.

"No, Young Master," Brown replied smoothly, voice low and steady. He stepped closer to the sofa and gestured politely. "Please, sit down. Calm yourself first."

Damian obeyed, shoulders sagging as he yanked at his tie. He collapsed onto the couch, the words of Dr. Harris still ringing in his ears like an annoying mosquito buzz he couldn't swat away.

"I would never think that way," Brown added firmly. "I know how much you love Miss Livia."

The words struck a chord, soothing Damian for a moment.

'I love Livia. I love her more than anything. My child must be able to feel it too... right?'

Then Damian groaned, clutching his head like a sulking teenager.

"I'm going to lose my mind if I can't hold her when I sleep!"

***