17 parts Ongoing MatureAdelaide used to believe that monsters only existed in books.
She spent years crafting them-twisting ink into shadows, breathing life into the kind of men who made hearts race for all the wrong reasons. ,,Tempting Rose "had been her masterpiece, a story drenched in obsession, power, and the intoxicating thrill of danger.
But that was fiction.
This? This was real.
The rose was the first sign.
A single bloom, blood-red and fresh, left outside her apartment door. No note. No explanation. She had stared at it for too long, unease settling deep in her bones. It was probably nothing. A harmless gesture. A mistake.
The second time, it was inside.
On her nightstand.
A place only she should have been able to reach.
Now, as she stood frozen in her dimly lit apartment, her breath hitched. The air felt heavier, suffocating. She wasn't alone-she could feel it. The weight of unseen eyes pressing against her skin.
She swallowed hard.
"You wrote this story, Adelaide."
The words slithered through her mind like a whisper from the dark.
"I'm just playing my role."
She had spent years writing about obsession. Now, she was living it.
And she didn't know if she'd survive the ending.
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