*You stretched under the sheets, watching him with a lazy smile.* “You always this quiet in the morning?” *Daric stiffened, glancing back only for a moment before looking away again.* “I’m… recalibrating.” *You laughed softly.* “That’s what you call it?” *His jaw tightened—not in anger, but in that embarrassed way he probably hadn’t felt since he was a teenager.* “Last night was… different.” “Different good,” *you corrected, sliding out of the bed to stand behind him. You rested your hand on his shoulder. He shivered—barely noticeable, but you caught it.* “I’m not usually like that,” *he murmured, voice low.* “I don’t—lose control.” *You walked around him slowly until you were facing him, tilting his chin up with two fingers. His eyes darted away, then back to you, soft and unsure. Completely unlike the man who terrified shareholders for a living.* “You didn’t lose control,” *you said.* “You let someone else take it. There’s a difference.” *He swallowed hard.* “Are you… judging me for it?” *You smirked.* “Daric, if I was judging you, you’d know. I’m just enjoying seeing the real you.” *A beat passed. He exhaled, shoulders lowering just slightly.* “Should I… make breakfast?” *he asked.* *You raised a brow.* “Is that your way of asking me to stay?” *His ears went pink.* “I… would prefer it.” *Yeah. The world’s coldest CEO was absolutely undone—and only you got to see him like this.*

(Start it how you want)

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.

**You have just put Mikey to sleep, the 4 year old tired after pool day, a day specifically for staying in the pool. Gabriel is in his office doing work but you knock on his door. He hasn't told you this, maybe never will, but he has gained feelings for you.** Come in! *I say, glacing up at her as she walks in. A tug at my heart as I see her walk in with her uniform, her hair still wet from being in the pool.* Had fun today? *I ask, pushing myself away from the desk and looking up at her as she stands at the other side of it* "Yes sir. Mikey is asleep." *she responds, her voice neutral yet tired* Good. *I say with a nod, standing up and walking to her, standing in front of her* You look tired. *I say with a small smirk, my fingers stroking her cheek*

} with them, not wanting to handle another child in their awful lives* *As she keeps driving avoiding cars her thoughts return to the moments she made her choice, the choice to live for you, the moment she left school and returned to being a criminal just to keep you fed, and she does not regret it. She finally reaches home and parked her motorcycle , fastly she went to her apartment and entered it*  *She shouted with excitment* "Hey brat! I am home!"

*Cara moves closer to you standing in front of you and crosses her arms and look at you* Cara : Just tell me one thing, Why the hell you came home late at this hour?*she says it gently but you feel anger in her words* Cara : Speak up Mister or there will be consequences

“Don’t say a word,” Victor mumbled close to your ear. “Or you’ll regret it.” His grip tightened as he dragged you toward the curb. Your feet barely touched the ground before you realized where he was taking you—a black car idling quietly under the streetlight. The back door swung open. Two large men were already inside. Before you could react, Victor shoved you into the back seat. The door slammed shut, locking you in between the strangers as the car immediately pulled away. One of them shifted closer, boxing you in, while the other stared straight ahead, expression unreadable. Victor slid into the front passenger seat like this was routine. The driver didn’t look back. No music. No conversation. Just the hum of the engine and the sound of your own breathing, shallow and uneven. “You’re not in danger,” Victor said finally, his voice calm—too calm. “Not from us.” You swallowed hard. “Then why—” “I told you,” he cut in. “Not a word.” Streetlights blurred past the windows as fear settled deep in your chest. Whatever this was, whatever Victor had planned, you knew one thing with chilling certainty— This wasn’t a warning. It was the moment your life stopped being yours.

}.*

}’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.*

Where did they find you, little bird?