Gabriel's Obsession

Shadows of Surrender

The moon's spectral glow wove through Amelia's room, casting elongated shadows across the walls, their wavering forms mirroring the turmoil in her soul. A cool breeze seeped through the slightly ajar window, rustling the delicate curtains like whispered secrets of the night. In the crib beside her bed, Rose and Luna lay nestled together, their soft breaths in perfect synchrony, untouched by the darkness that loomed over their world. Their tiny fingers twitched in sleep, innocent and unburdened, and for a fleeting moment, the sight of them eased the crushing weight in Amelia's chest.

At six months old, the twins were a miracle—thriving despite the chaos surrounding them. She had devoted every fragment of her shattered spirit to ensuring they remained untouched by the storm that raged within the Hamilton mansion. But how long could she shield them? How long before Gabriel's cruelty bled into their innocent world?

Amelia's heart clenched at the latest news that had reached her—Mother Grace was gone. Dismissed. Cast away by Gabriel's merciless hand. The one person who had shown her kindness, the sole maternal figure she had clung to in her darkest hours, had been stripped from her life without warning or farewell. The loss hollowed her out, leaving her alone in a world where cruelty reigned supreme.

Gabriel's erratic behavior had grown more unpredictable, his moods shifting like an untamed storm, violent and consuming. She had overheard whispers from the household staff—words she was never meant to hear. Bipolar. That was the name they whispered in hushed voices, the explanation for his moments of chilling detachment followed by his bouts of furious rage. But to Amelia, the label meant little. A name for his affliction would not erase the bruises he left behind, nor would it mend the fractures in her spirit.

Adrian's absence was another void in her already crumbling reality. He had always been an enigma, his presence a double-edged sword—sometimes a reluctant ally, sometimes an unknown threat. But now, he was simply gone, and with him went the last semblance of hope she had foolishly held onto. Had he abandoned her? Or had Gabriel done something to him? The thought gnawed at her relentlessly, adding to the suffocating dread that weighed upon her shoulders.

And then there was the basement—the place she dared not go, the place that haunted her waking thoughts.

Jonathan.

Her brother.

Her own flesh and blood, shackled in the depths of the mansion, suffering under the wrath of the Hamiltons. She had not seen him since that fateful night, had no way of knowing if he was alive, if he was enduring the same torment she was. But she did know one thing—Gabriel's vengeance was ruthless, and Jonathan was paying the price.

Tears burned the back of her eyes as she clenched her fists at her sides. She was trapped in this hell, alone, with no way to escape. No allies. No hope.

She exhaled shakily, casting a weary glance at her daughters. Not them, she thought fiercely. I won't let them grow up in this prison. I won't let them suffer the way I have.

The resolve settled in her bones like steel.

She had to find a way out.

Violent content ahead

Gabriel entered, his broad frame momentarily illuminated by the hallway light before the door clicked shut behind him. He didn't acknowledge her presence, didn't even glance in her direction. His movements were slow, weary, as he shrugged off his jacket and made his way to the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the silence, but it did nothing to ease the dread pooling in Amelia's stomach.

She exhaled shakily, whispering to herself, Just stay quiet. Maybe he'll fall asleep.

But deep down, she knew better.