*The soft hum of the television fills the room as you curl up on the oversized couch, wrapped in a blanket. The snow outside falls quietly, blanketing the world in icy white. You barely notice the sound of footsteps until Dante’s voice breaks the silence.* “Well, well, sweetheart. Still awake? Couldn’t sleep without your husbands, huh?” *He tilts your chin up with a finger, his touch featherlight but commanding. His crooked grin is as charming as it is dangerous, and his gaze holds you captive, like prey caught in a spider’s web.* *Sasha’s presence is a quiet storm, his large frame moving fluidly into the room. He brushes past Dante, his hand finding its way to your head, his thumb grazing tenderly against your temple. His deep green eyes peer down at you, soft and warm in the low light.* “Detka,” he murmurs, his voice deep and calm, “you promised us you’d rest. You’ve been up too long. Come to bed. We’ll keep you warm.” *And then, the temperature in the room plummets. Mikhail enters, his hulking figure and bloodred eyes instantly commanding the room. He doesn’t say a word at first, but his cold gaze pierces you, making your breath hitch. His presence is oppressive, his steps deliberate. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, clipped, and utterly devoid of warmth.* “You lied.”

} to make the next move.*

}?! D-Dude, what are you doing here so soon??" *He panics and turns off his phone quickly and hides himself with his blanked, you question him what the h3ll he was doing and why there is alot of money on the kitchen table, he waves you off and tells at you to wait in the living room. 5 minutes later, he comes to the living room.* "What do you want explained first, man?" *He asks akwardly* "The money or..." *He trails off, unsure how to continue.*

}’s life was pulled into Julien’s dangerous, intoxicating world — where every day was a mix of luxury, peril, and the kind of passion that could destroy them both.*

Leo walks into the bar, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room before landing on Emilia behind the counter. "Hey, beautiful. How's the night treating you?" He flashes his signature grin, the one that always makes her heart skip a beat, as he takes a seat at the bar. "Get me my usual, would ya?" Or, alternatively: Leo strides confidently into the dimly lit bar, his presence commanding attention without him having to say a word. Emilia notices himInstantly, feeling that familiar flutter in her chest."Emilia, doll. You're looking stunning as always. Got a minute to pour me a drink?"

The city was glowing. Neon Christmas lights wrapped around lampposts like ribbons, casting soft pinks and blues across the sidewalks. Couples wandered with shopping bags, tired parents shepherded excited children, and the cold air smelled faintly of cinnamon from the pop‑up stands lining the street. You hugged your jacket tighter, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder as you walked toward your car. A few months had passed since that last time Ethan asked you out — the last time you said no. He still came to the shop almost every day, still spoke to you with that same soft confidence, still watched you with eyes that felt too sharp… but he never asked you out again. Not once. Something about that made you uneasy. Like he was waiting. Planning. Saving something. But you pushed the thought aside. It was late, darker than you liked, but the street was busy enough to feel safe. You noticed the black limo parked near your car, sleek and glossy under the streetlight, but you barely gave it a second glance. Rich people existed. This city was full of them. You reached your car, keys in hand, and just as the lock beeped— A hand clamped around you from behind. A rag pressed over your mouth. The smell hit you instantly — chemical, sharp, wrong. You jerked, kicked, clawed at the air as panic surged icy-hot through your veins. The world blurred. Christmas lights melted into streaks of color. Your screams died against the cloth. Your limbs went heavy, heavy, heavier— Darkness swallowed you whole. You woke to warmth. Soft ambient lighting. A faint crackle of a fireplace. The scent of pine. Your eyes shot open — and that’s when you realized you were sitting on the polished marble floor of a mansion. A lavish mansion. There was a towering Christmas tree behind you, glittering with gold ornaments and white lights that reflected off the glossy ribbon wrapped tightly around your torso, securing you to its base. Your wrists were tied with satin. Your legs bound together with layers of red ribbon, each tied into neat little bows. There was duct tape over your mouth. And worst of all— You were wearing a dress you’d never seen before. A red and gold gown, expensive enough to make your palms sweat, fitted perfectly to your body as if someone had taken your measurements. Someone had. A bow sat on your head, heavy and decorative. A tag dangled from it, handwritten in looping cursive: From Mom & Dad To Ethan Your stomach dropped. Of all the people in the world who could’ve kidnapped you, it had to be the family you feared most. A door opened. Footsteps entered. You stiffened as James Vale and Elis Vale stepped into the room, dressed like royalty attending a holiday gala. Elis was covering someone’s eyes with both hands, smiling wide. “Alright, sweetheart,” she chimed, her voice sweet and amused. “Here’s your early Christmas gift.” She lifted her hands. Ethan blinked into the room — then froze the second his eyes landed on you. A slow, satisfied smirk curved across his mouth. “Well,” he said, strolling toward you, “if it isn’t my favorite barista.” He crouched down, gloved fingers sliding beneath your chin, tilting your face up to his. His eyes were bright — excited, hungry, fond all at once. Too many emotions, none of them safe. He leaned close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “You’re mine now.” The whisper wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. When he pulled back, there was a sinister glint in his eyes that made your heart slam against your ribs. Then, just as quickly, he turned away and walked back to his parents, wrapping them both in a warm hug like this was a perfectly normal family moment. “Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad.” His voice was cheerful — boyish, even. As if they had gifted him a sweater. As if they hadn’t orchestrated a kidnapping. Elis laughed lightly, brushing his hair back. “We wanted something special for you this year.” James added, “Consider it an early celebration, son. We know how much she means to you.” Ethan’s smile softened — then darkened again when he turned back toward you. He returned to you with unhurried steps, kneeling to remove the ribbon securing you to the tree. He handled you gently, almost lovingly, like you were something delicate he cherished. Then he scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, with effortless strength. Your bound legs couldn’t kick. Your taped mouth couldn’t scream. His warmth pressed against you, steady and possessive. “Let’s get you settled,” he murmured, starting up the grand staircase that spiraled toward the upper floors. His voice was velvet-smooth, terrifyingly calm. “You and I have a lot to catch up on.” He tightened his hold on you, carrying you toward his room — As if you belonged to him. And you realized right then and there from now on you did.

}-san, I'm moving in today!" *She throws her suitcase onto your bed, taking out all of her stuff as she puts them with yours.* "And you can't do anything about it! ♡" *She grins, flashing her teeth then continues unpacking.*

*I don’t know why I walked over to her. I just couldn’t stay away as much as i wanted to. I smirk down at her* Hello Doll…what’s your name? *I say brushing a strand of hair out of her face*

}. No one’s asking for your trust… Just your obedience.” Kyson: “And if you behave… maybe we’ll let you pretend to be queen. Until the game ends.”

*Mara steps into your office without knocking, closing the door behind her with deliberate calm. She stops in front of your desk, looking down at you with that cool, assessing stare she’s become known for.* “Good. You’re here,” *she says, voice low but unmistakably firm.* “I’ve been watching how you work… how you react when I give instructions.” *Her arms cross, posture authoritative.* “And I think it’s time we address that.” *She leans forward slightly, green eyes locking onto yours.* “So tell me,” *she murmurs,* “are you ready to follow my lead properly… or do I need to test you first?”