Wild Billionaire's Obsession

28

I saw it in her eyes before she even moved—the defiance, the terror. The way she looked at me, as if I were some kind of monster. Maybe I was.

Her body tensed when I leaned closer, her breath brushing against my neck. I could feel her shiver, but instead of softening, I made it worse. I let my anger guide me, teasing her just to see her reaction, to remind myself that I still had control over something. But the moment she looked like she was about to cry, I froze. What the hell was I doing?

Before I could stop myself, the door burst open.

"Sir Dylan? Hinahanap po kayo ng kapatid n'yo," a voice stuttered.

I turned sharply. "You don't know how to fuckin' knock?" The words slipped out, too harsh, too cold. The girl at the door bowed her head in apology, trembling. When I looked back, I saw her—her eyes wide, throat tightening like she wanted to scream for help but couldn't.

And then I saw it. The shift. The way her gaze changed from fear to determination. Before I could even blink, she kicked me—hard—and ran.

For a second, all I could think about was how her eyes looked before she left: terrified, but strong.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt something twist in my chest—something that felt a lot like regret.

Her eyes were trembling when I looked at her. I could see the fear reflecting back at me—fear of me. Damn it. I didn't mean to scare her, but the moment she tried to run, instinct took over.

"Saan ka pupunta?" I snapped, grabbing her wrist before she could take another step. My voice came out louder than I wanted, sharper than I intended.

She pulled away and bolted for the door. For a second, my heart stopped—then panic hit when she almost tripped on the edge of the step. Reflex kicked in, and I caught the fabric of her dress, just in time.

"Don't move," I whispered, my voice softening as I steadied her trembling frame. "You're safe."

Her breathing was erratic. Mine wasn't any better. I could hear it—the hitch in her breath, the small sob she tried to hold back. Slowly, I walked toward her, each step careful, deliberate, trying to calm the storm I caused.

Her eyes darted to me, wide and guarded. I softened my tone even more. The fire inside me was replaced by something else—guilt, maybe. Or fear of losing control again. "Just... stay still. I don't want you to get hurt," I said quietly, though my chest felt heavy, full of something I couldn't name.

But before I could even reach her hand, she slipped.

Everything happened so fast. Her scream, the sound of her head hitting the edge, and then—blood.

Her blood.

"Shit!" I shouted, running down the steps after her. My hands were trembling as I tried to lift her head. "Hey, stay with me! Look at me!" But her eyes were already dimming. Voices from the hall echoed as I shouted for help, but the ringing in my ears drowned everything.

And just when I thought I was losing her completely, she whispered something faint—my name, maybe—and then everything went black for her.

Her body went limp in my arms. For a second, everything froze. My chest felt like it stopped moving. My hands—shaking, useless—were already covered in her blood.

"Hey—hey! Look at me," I said, voice breaking. "Don't close your eyes."

But she didn't answer.
Her lashes trembled once, then stilled.

My throat burned. Panic rushed in like fire, devouring every ounce of control I thought I had left. I tried to press the side of my hand against the wound, but my fingers wouldn't stop trembling.

"Fuck, no, no, no, not like this."

I shouted for help. Voices echoed—footsteps, chaos—but all I could see was her pale face. My mind kept replaying the sound of her head hitting the corner. I didn't mean for this to happen. I just wanted her to stay. To stop running from me. And now... she's barely breathing.

Someone pulled me back, but I shoved them away. "Call a doctor! Get the damn car!" I yelled. My voice cracked halfway, like something inside me finally gave out.

They lifted her from the ground. I followed, still clutching her hand, refusing to let go even when they told me to. My heart was pounding so fast it hurt.

"Please," I whispered—half to her, half to the universe. "Don't do this to me."

A tear fell down on my cheek. I voices broke every time I yell them to speed up. Nawalan na ako ng pakialam sa paligid ko. They saw me broke down while holding her, hugging her, trying to wake her. I know this is the first time they saw me like this, how soft I am. Fuck this! But I can't afford to see the woman I love being like this.

Yes, the moment I saw her at the fountain, her eyes, her smile, everything about her made me feel like I was floating crazy. I want to be with her!

Not just because of the company,

but because I love her!

I was sitting in the hallway outside the emergency room. My hands were still stained red, the smell of blood clinging to my shirt. Every time I blinked, I saw her falling again.

"She hit her head hard," one of the nurses said somewhere near me. "Possible concussion. We need to keep her overnight."

Overnight.
The word made my chest tighten.

When the door finally opened, I almost ran inside. She was lying there, still, pale under the harsh white light. Machines beeping beside her like a heartbeat I didn't deserve to hear.

I walked closer, every step heavier than the last. My hand hovered above hers before I finally held it, gently this time. Her fingers were cold.

"I told you you're safe," I murmured. "And look what I did." My voice cracked. I laughed bitterly under my breath, the sound hollow in the quiet room.

I wanted control.
I wanted her to stay.
But not like this.

The more I looked at her, the more I realized how wrong I'd been all along. The girl I thought I could break was the only one who ever made me lose my composure completely.

"Just wake up," I whispered, thumb brushing over her hand. "You can yell at me, hit me, hate me—just... don't leave."

For the first time in years, I prayed.
Not for forgiveness.
Just for another chance.

The beeping of the monitor was the only sound left in the room.
Her breathing had steadied, her body finally at rest after that storm of panic.
But my heart—my heart wouldn't stop pounding.

I brushed her hair away from her face, tracing the curve of her cheek with my thumb.
"Sleep, baby," I whispered. "You're safe now. You're mine now."

When the last nurse left the room, I straightened up, fixing my shirt and wiping the sweat on my forehead. That's when Dr. Rodriguez came back, clipboard in hand.

"Mr. Dylan, your wife—"

I cut him off with a look. "Don't ever call her by any other name except Joyce Callahan," I said quietly, my voice low, sharp. "Do you understand?"

I stepped closer, letting my tone drop to a warning whisper. "No one outside this hospital should know her real name. No one calls her Cordelia Velasquez. No one contacts her family, friends, or anyone who might be looking for her. From now on,

she's Mrs. Joyce Callahan."

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