THE BILLIONAIRE'S OBSESSION (OBSESS BILLIONAIRE BOOK 1)

Jessa turned her head toward the floor-to-ceiling glass window beside her. From there, she could see the vast ocean, the waves crashing onto the shore, and the breathtaking blend of orange and crimson hues from the setting sun. Birds soared freely across the sky.

It's calming and beautiful.

But she couldn't bring herself to appreciate the view.

Because she had a huge problem!

She woke up in a room she didn't recognize, with no idea whose place this was or where she even was. She didn't remember going on a trip! The last thing she recalled was stopping by a 7-Eleven to buy siopao-when suddenly, two men in black ski masks approached her and forcibly shoved her into a van.

She fought back. She kicked, scratched, and even pulled hair. But before she could do more, they made her inhale something foul-a chemical so strong that it knocked her unconscious.

And when she woke up... she was here.

The sound of the door unlocking made her snap to attention. She immediately pressed herself against the headboard. The door swung open, revealing a man carrying a tray of steaming hot food.

He wore Hawaiian board shorts and an open polo, leaving his broad, chiseled chest completely exposed. Her gaze drifted lower-right to those mouthwatering abs that looked so-Wait! No, no, erase that!

She should not be ogling this man. No matter how sinfully delicious his body looked, promising all sorts of forbidden pleasures!

Shit.

Forcing herself to look up, her blood boiled the moment she saw the smirk on his lips.

He looks like a devil.

A devil with a body that could make anyone worship him.

He stepped into the room, moving closer to her. In a flash, she grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. He dodged with ease-but in doing so, the tray slipped from his hands, sending its contents crashing to the floor.

"Fuucckk!!" His roar was so loud it practically shook the entire room.

Jessa bit her lip, instantly regretting her reckless move. And when she saw the way his eyes darkened, his breathing ragged like a beast ready to charge, she knew-she was screwed.

Smoke might as well be coming out of his nostrils.

He took a step forward. She instinctively lifted herself off the bed. He cracked his neck and took another step. She jumped off the mattress.

This is it. I'm dead.

There was nowhere to run. No matter which way she bolted, he would catch her.

Her eyes darted to the glass window, then back to the enraged man stalking toward her. Then back to the window.

I won't let him catch me alive!

And so, without a second thought, she ran and slammed her body against the glass.

A moment later... she found herself sprawled on the floor, seeing stars dance in her vision.

What the hell?

She didn't break through the glass?!

Why is it that in movies, glass windows always shatter when the protagonist crashes into them? But her? She got nothing but a bump on the head and a full-body ache!

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked mockingly, standing over her.

She wanted so badly to claw that smug look off his face. But her vision was already darkening.

"Don't bother running," she heard him say before everything faded into nothingness. "I never let go of what's mine, pussy doll..."

Jessa had barely reached the staircase when she caught a whiff of something burning. Thick black smoke was already seeping out from the kitchen door.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Without thinking twice, she bolted down the stairs and ran toward the kitchen, yelling at the top of her lungs.

"Fire! Manang! Papa! Oh my God, FIRE!"

The moment she stepped inside, a thick cloud of smoke greeted her, making her cough violently.

"Papa!" she called out, spotting her father standing helplessly in front of the stove, frantically trying to put out the flames.

"Sweetheart, get out of here! It's too smoky!" her father shouted back.

Jessa rolled her eyes. Obviously! The thick smoke filling the air was a dead giveaway that they were seconds away from burning alive!

Without wasting another moment, she rushed to grab the fire extinguisher hanging behind the door. Quickly, she pointed the hose at the stove, pulled the pin, and squeezed the lever. A burst of white chemical sprayed out, smothering the flames until they finally died down.

She let out a heavy sigh of relief, slumping onto the floor.

"Tsk. Overcooked," her father muttered with a click of his tongue.

Jessa shot him a deadly glare.

Her father might be in his fifties, but with his fair skin and small frame, he could easily pass for someone in his forties. He barely stood at 4'11" and had a stocky build. His eyes were narrow, his head completely bald and shiny-something Jessa had gotten used to growing up. She had never seen him with even a single strand of hair in her entire life. Honestly, with his round belly leading the way, he looked more like a comedian than a businessman.

"Overcooked?! Papa, you nearly burned the whole house down!" she snapped.

He winced and scratched his already glistening head, drenched in sweat. Jessa shook her head at the sight of him-his nose blackened with soot, sweat dripping down his face.

"Where's Manang? Why are you cooking?" She stood up, pushing the fire extinguisher aside before stepping toward the stove. She grimaced at the sight of six charred, unrecognizable fish-shaped objects, each barely the length of her finger and no more than an inch wide.

"What is this?" She turned to him, expecting an explanation.

"Tuyo?" he replied, though it sounded more like a question than an answer.

"Tuyo?" Jessa repeated, frowning. "Since when did you even start eating tuyo, Papa? And where is Manang? Manang!" she called out for their long-time housekeeper, the only one left after her father decided to cut costs.

They used to have four housekeepers. But just last week, her father declared that they needed to budget wisely-so he let three of them go, keeping only Manang, who had been with them since Jessa was a child.

"Uh... I, uh... I made her resign too," her father admitted, looking guilty.

Jessa whipped her head toward him.

"WHAT?!"

He flinched at her sharp voice.

"Papa! Neither of us knows how to cook, and you fired Manang?!" she scolded, exasperated. He lowered his head like a child being scolded, playing with his hands. Jessa let out a long, frustrated sigh. Honestly, dealing with him is worse than taking care of an actual kid.

"Tell me the truth, Papa." Her voice softened as she looked him straight in the eye. "Is the hardware store failing, too?"

It was the last business her mother had built before she passed away.

Two years ago, they had five spa and wellness branches across Metro Manila, hectares of rice fields in Quezon, an auto repair shop, a junk shop, and the hardware store.

But ever since her mother's death, their businesses started collapsing-one by one. The only thing keeping them afloat now was the hardware store.

And from the looks of it... even that was hanging by a thread.

Her father sighed. "Not yet, sweetheart..."

Jessa almost breathed a sigh of relief-until he continued.

"But it will fail soon..."

"Ugh! Papa!" she groaned, stomping her feet in frustration. Where will we end up if we lose the hardware store too? How will we afford food? Pay the bills?

"I-I'm trying to fix it, sweetheart... I really am..."

Jessa's anger wavered as she saw the sorrow in his eyes.

She bit her lip before sighing heavily. Without another word, she grabbed her bag from the floor.

"I'm leaving," she muttered, stepping toward him. She kissed his forehead and wrinkled her nose. "Take a shower, Papa. You stink."

He grinned sheepishly, nodding eagerly.

Shaking her head, she walked out of the kitchen.

"Be careful, sweetheart!" he called after her.

She just waved a hand in response, already lost in thought.

Their situation was bad. And if she didn't do something soon... it was only going to get worse.

When she used to go to school, she rode in a service car with a driver-no need to walk several kilometers just to catch a jeepney to the university. But that was before. Things were different now. They could no longer afford a driver, and even the car was long gone, sold off along with everything else they used to have.

Now, all they had left was their house and the hardware store. Even their so-called friends had disappeared, and their relatives barely acknowledged them anymore.

The moment their businesses and wealth started dwindling, so did the people around them. She was just grateful that her mother had secured an educational plan for her, allowing her to continue her studies despite everything.

Sometimes, she wanted to break down and cry over how their lives had turned upside down, especially when she saw her father struggling. But her pride wouldn't allow it. She refused to let fate see her defeated. As long as she was breathing, there was still hope.

She wiped the sweat off her forehead while waiting at the roadside, where jeepneys regularly passed by en route to her university.

It was only eight in the morning, but the crowd waiting for a ride was already overwhelming.

This was her daily routine-pushing and squeezing her way onto a packed jeepney just to get to school.

Her first class wasn't until nine, but she always left early to have enough time to change clothes in the school restroom, ensuring she still looked fresh when she entered the classroom.

By eight-thirty, she was in the restroom, changing into a clean outfit. Once done, she headed straight to the canteen. She was starving, having skipped breakfast.

As she walked down the hallway, she spotted Ycos-a civil engineering student.

Her ultimate crush since freshman year.

"Hey, Jes," he greeted her with a smile, revealing his perfectly straight, white teeth.

Oh. My. God.

She managed a small smile in return, and as he walked past, she subtly inhaled his scent.

Her day was already made. Just seeing Ycos was enough.

She had been crushing on him ever since they joined the same school club. Unlike most guys who were arrogant and full of themselves, Ycos was kind and quiet. He was a scholar and quite popular at the university, yet he remained humble and always greeted everyone with a warm smile.

Whenever she got the chance, she would secretly try to catch his attention.

At the cafeteria, she lined up to buy food. She wanted sausage, bacon, and black coffee, but her budget wouldn't allow it. With a sigh, she settled for a sandwich and a small bottle of Tropicana juice.

Her next paycheck from the café where she worked was still a week away. She no longer asked her father for allowance, knowing he was already struggling financially.

After paying, she took her tray and turned around-only to bump into someone behind her.

The tray hit the person's chest, and the juice spilled all over their clothes. The glass bottle crashed to the floor, shattering at their feet.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-" she blurted out, frantically rummaging through her bag for a handkerchief. She quickly tried to wipe the spilled juice off their shirt. "I swear, I didn't mean to-"

Then, she looked up.

Her breath hitched.

Of all people... why did it have to be him?

Xyrius Dale Smith.

Xyrius Dale Smith.

The absolute worst person to mess with.

The most arrogant, insufferable, and notorious bully in the entire university.

He had no limits. No one was safe from his pranks-not even the professors. There were rumors that some teachers had resigned because of him, and there was even talk of a student who had taken their own life after being targeted by his bullying.

Her entire body tensed. Even her esophagus and small intestines seemed to tremble in fear.

Xyrius was glaring at her, brows furrowed, his piercing gaze locking onto hers.

"S-s-s-sorry..." she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Of all the people she avoided in Westwood University, he was at the top of the list. For two years, she had gone out of her way to take detours just to avoid crossing paths with him. She had never dared to meet his eyes-until now.

But now that she was looking straight at him... she found herself unable to look away.

His eyes were a striking shade of gray. Long, thick lashes framed them, almost like the ones on the Santo Niño statue in Manang's room. His nose was sharp, his lips full and naturally pink.

Damn...

Without a word, Xyrius raised his hands and began unbuttoning his black long-sleeved shirt.

Her brain lagged.

Was this happening in slow motion?

Each button that came undone made her jaw drop a little more.

Her virgin eyes were getting an unexpected, sinful treat.

Her throat went dry as she absentmindedly bit the strap of her shoulder bag.

Holy hell.

She counted.

One... two... three... four... five... six-oh, sh*t-eight-pack abs.

And to make matters worse, juice was trickling down his ridiculously sculpted torso, like something out of a damn cologne commercial.

Beach body level unlocked.

"Dry clean it," he said, tossing his shirt at her face.

She instinctively caught it, inhaling the lingering scent.

Heaven.

Then, without another word, he shoved her aside and walked up to the cashier-shirtless.

That was it?

No outburst? No "you stupid motherf*cker" rant?

She shook her head in disbelief. What was she even thinking? She should be grateful that Xyrius seemed to be in a good mood and wasn't plotting revenge.

Slowly, she stepped backward, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

It was only when she made it out of the cafeteria that she finally exhaled in relief.

Then, she glanced down at the black long-sleeved shirt in her hands.

"Just my luck! Instead of breakfast, I got stuck with laundry duty!" she grumbled, shoving the long-sleeved shirt into her bag before heading toward her building. It was still early, so when she arrived at the classroom, the professor wasn't there yet, and only a handful of students had shown up. She sank into her seat, resting her bag on the desk as a makeshift pillow. A quick nap should help her forget about her hunger. She'd just eat at lunch-her money was barely enough as it was.

She only stirred when someone sat beside her. It was Mina. The girl flashed her a warm smile, and despite still being groggy, she returned it.

"Is the professor here yet?" she asked, yawning.

"Not yet," Mina replied shyly, pulling out a notebook from her bag and flipping through it.

She rested her chin on her palm, simply watching her friend.

Mina was beautiful-her skin was flawless, something she envied. Her style was simple, yet she still managed to stand out. Her face had a delicate, almost angelic softness, and her eyes, always wide and expressive, looked like they could well up with tears at any moment. Even her lips, naturally tinted with a soft red hue, made her look effortlessly elegant.

Subconsciously, she touched her own lips-fuller, less delicate. A small wave of jealousy crept in.

Mina turned to her, offering a slightly bashful smile.

"What?" she asked.

She grinned. "Got a sandwich?"

Mina always carried a sandwich, and more often than not, she shared it with her. When she nodded and rummaged through her bag before handing one over, she beamed.

"You're the best! Thanks!" she said, eagerly taking a bite.

Mina simply returned to her notes, scribbling away.

She was the only person she had considered a real best friend since starting college. They met through a club and had been inseparable ever since.

Mina was kind, quiet, and often lost in her own world. She came from an affluent family, but she never acted entitled or snobbish. Unlike her so-called best friends from high school, who had all conveniently disappeared the moment her family hit rock bottom.