Chasing Sandro: A Dangerous Obsession

Chapter 37: Unwanted Feelings

Bella stood by the window of her darkened room, staring out at the city skyline, the soft hum of the night barely reaching her through the glass. In the silence, her thoughts raced, colliding with emotions she could no longer control. Love. Hate. Guilt. Desire. They tangled together, tightening around her like a vice.

She had always believed her obsession with Sandro was born of love, a passion so fierce that it had driven her to do the unthinkable. But now, as the reality of what she had done began to sink in, Bella wasn't so sure. Somewhere along the way, her love for Sandro had twisted into something darker—something far more dangerous.

Bella turned away from the window, her hands trembling as she tried to calm the storm inside her. She couldn't ignore it anymore—the way her heart ached for Sandro's attention, yet recoiled at the thought of what she had done to get it. The closer she had come to him, the more she had tried to control him, the further she seemed from the love she had once craved.

It was all slipping away.

When she had started funding his projects in secret, it had felt like a small act of devotion, a way to stay close to him without being seen. But as her influence over his career grew, so did her desire to control him completely. She had convinced herself it was for his own good—that if Sandro could just see how much she cared, he would fall in love with her, too.

But that wasn't what happened. Instead, he had remained indifferent, and in her desperation to win his affection, Bella had crossed lines she couldn't come back from. Now, she wasn't sure if she loved him or hated him for making her feel this way.

She hated him for not noticing her. She hated him for using her, for playing with her feelings as if they meant nothing. But she also loved him—still, after everything. And that love, twisted as it was, was what hurt the most.

Bella sank into the leather chair by her desk, her head in her hands. Every step she had taken—the anonymous donations, the manipulation of his career, the kidnapping—had brought her further down this path. She had once thought that having power over Sandro would give her the satisfaction she had longed for, but now, all it did was deepen her sense of emptiness.

There was no victory in this. No joy.

Sandro was hers now, in a way. He was completely at her mercy, and yet, he wasn't. His heart was still beyond her reach. The more control she had over his life, the more distant he seemed, and it was tearing her apart. She had always believed that if she just did enough, if she just gave enough of herself, he would see her—truly see her—and love her in return.

But that hadn't happened.

Instead, Bella found herself trapped in a cycle of love and hate, torn between the fantasy she had built around Sandro and the reality of their situation. Every time she thought about him, her feelings clashed—she wanted to protect him, but she also wanted him to suffer for not loving her. She wanted to hold him close, but she also wanted to push him away, to hurt him the way he had hurt her.

It was unbearable.

Bella thought back to the moment when she first realized she was in love with Sandro. It had been so innocent then—an infatuation that had seemed harmless, almost sweet. She had admired him from afar, watched his speeches, supported his career. She had convinced herself that they were meant to be, that he would eventually come to realize how perfect they were for each other.

But that dream had shattered long ago. Now, all that was left was the cold, hard reality of her actions. Sandro wasn't going to fall in love with her because of what she had done. In fact, if he ever found out the truth, he would hate her. That thought cut deeper than anything else.

For so long, Bella had believed that love could conquer anything, that if she loved him enough, he would have no choice but to love her back. But love didn't work like that. You couldn't force it. You couldn't manipulate someone into feeling something they didn't. And now, Bella was left with the bitter truth that her love for Sandro had never been enough—and it never would be.

As the days passed, Bella found herself growing more resentful. Resentful of Sandro for making her feel this way. Resentful of herself for letting it all spiral out of control. She had devoted so much of her life to him—her time, her energy, her money—and for what? For him to remain oblivious, indifferent, even now that she had taken such drastic measures?

It wasn't fair. After everything she had done for him, after all the sacrifices she had made, he still didn't love her. And that realization stung more than she could bear.

She had thought that controlling his life, holding his fate in her hands, would give her a sense of power, but all it had done was make her feel more powerless. She couldn't control his heart, no matter how much she wanted to, and the knowledge of that gnawed at her soul.

In her darkest moments, Bella wondered if she had ever truly loved Sandro at all—or if this had always been about something else. Maybe it wasn't love that had driven her, but a desire for validation, for someone to see her, to choose her. And Sandro, with his charm and charisma, had been the perfect target for her misplaced longing.

Bella's mind raced as she tried to make sense of her conflicting emotions. She wanted to believe that her feelings for Sandro were real, that this had all been for love. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that her obsession had poisoned everything. What had once been love had become something toxic, something destructive.

She was torn between wanting to hold onto that love and wanting to let go of it entirely. But how could she let go when Sandro had been at the center of her world for so long? She had built her life around him, shaped her entire identity around this fantasy of them being together. Without that, who was she?

For the first time, Bella allowed herself to think about what might come after all of this. What if she let Sandro go? What if she stopped trying to control his life, stopped chasing the impossible? The thought was terrifying, but it also offered a strange sense of relief. Maybe she didn't have to keep playing this game. Maybe it was time to face the truth—that this wasn't love, and it never had been.

But letting go was easier said than done. Bella wasn't ready to give up on the fantasy she had held onto for so long. Not yet. There was still a part of her that hoped, that believed Sandro might come around, that he might see her in a different light, even now.

And so, the battle within her raged on—between love and hate, desire and resentment, control and surrender.

As Bella watched Sandro's image flicker on the screen once more, she knew one thing for certain: the power she had over him wasn't enough. Not anymore.

But she didn't know how to stop.