OBSESSION

OBSESSION SEQUAL - COMPULSION SNEAK PEAK

Compulsion

The rain hadn't stopped in hours.

Bethany stood at the edge of Logan's massive window wall, watching the city blur beneath the storm. Lights shimmered like ghosts behind the downpour, but her reflection in the glass remained sharp—tense, wide-eyed, unraveling.

She hadn't slept. Not really. Not since Juliette's ultimatum. And even though Logan had held her last night like he meant to stitch her back together, the ache hadn't gone away. If anything, it had deepened.

Behind her, the low thrum of music hummed through the penthouse, something soft and steady Logan had turned on to calm her. But Bethany couldn't settle. Not when her phone was face down on the kitchen island. Not when she knew any minute now, Juliette could make good on her threat.

She heard him before she saw him—bare feet on hardwood, the rustle of a t-shirt being pulled over his head.

"You're up early," Logan said quietly, voice still rough with sleep.

Bethany didn't turn. "Didn't sleep."

He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her from behind, warm and solid. His hands rested low on her stomach, grounding her.

"I meant what I said," he murmured into her neck. "We're going to fight this. Together."

Bethany closed her eyes, letting herself lean into him for just a second.

But just as the moment settled, her phone vibrated. Once. Then again.

She turned in his arms.

"Don't," Logan said, reading the look on her face.

But it was already too late. She picked it up.

Unknown Number
Check your email.
I warned you.

Bethany's hands went cold.

And then, the second message.

[REDACTED]: "Legacy Reality is under investigation for fraud. Anonymous source claims falsified records, forged contracts, and coercion of city officials. More to follow."

Her breath caught. "Logan—"

But he was already grabbing his phone, his face darkening as he scrolled through his notifications.

His company. Her name. All of it. Out there.

"Someone's framing us," he said, fury tightening every word. "This is only the beginning."

Bethany's fingers dug into his arm. "You think it's Juliette?"

"No," he said slowly. "This is bigger than Juliette."

And there she was.

Juliette Monroe. A silhouette of polished malice in black designer heels and a white belted trench, eyes hidden behind massive sunglasses, like the villain in a noir film who knows she's untouchable.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Juliette said smoothly, not sounding sorry at all. "I assumed this was a private meeting."

Teagan stepped forward. "It's not. You can leave."

Bethany raised a hand. "It's fine."

"Bethany—"

"I said it's fine."

Juliette breezed in like she owned the place, plucking off her sunglasses and tucking them into her clutch. Her eyes—cool, amused—landed on Bethany, then slid toward Teagan with condescension. "You can stay, darling. It doesn't matter to me."

Bethany stood her ground behind her desk, fists clenched.

"Well?" she demanded.

Juliette gave her a slow, mocking once-over. "I was simply wondering if you'd come to your senses. If you've decided Logan's not worth the professional funeral you're walking into."

Bethany's breath caught.

"You smug, jealous bitch," she hissed. "You think you can walk in here and scare me into giving him up like we're in some twisted game of chess? I'm not your pawn."

Juliette's laugh was low and cruel. "Oh, Bethany. I don't want you to be a pawn. I want you to realize you're already checkmated."

She pulled a slim envelope from her clutch and placed it gently on the desk between them.

"What the hell is that?" Bethany asked.

Juliette leaned in. "Insurance. For me. Devastation. For you."

Bethany's heart hammered. "I'm not playing this game."

"Oh, sweet girl..." Juliette straightened and smiled like a snake uncoiling. "You already are."

She turned on her heel without waiting for a response and sauntered out of the room like nothing had happened, like she hadn't just detonated a bomb and left them standing in the blast zone.

Bethany stared at the envelope.

Teagan looked from her to the door and back again. "Don't open it."

But Bethany already was.

Inside was a single sheet of thick, cream stationery. As she read what was typed in delicate, precise font, her knees buckled slightly.

Her mouth went dry. Her stomach dropped.

"No..." she whispered.

Teagan moved beside her. "What is it?"

Bethany couldn't answer. Her hand clutched the paper, her knuckles white.

The story continues with daily uploads, January 21st 2026. Check my profile for 'Compulsion'.