Wednesday morning.Ella wore the navy dress.
It fit perfectly—modest, neat, and suffocating.Every button, every seam whispered one thing: his control.She didn't feel like herself. She felt like his doll.
She arrived at the office early—7:45 a.m. The floor was quiet, hollow.Her desk was spotless, except for a single note.
Board presentation today. 2 PM.Your report on quarterly projections needs to be flawless.Don't disappoint me. —A
Her stomach dropped.
The report. She'd been perfecting it for days. The data was solid, airtight.But Alexander's version of flawless was something else entirely—something impossible.
She opened her laptop to do one last check… and froze.
The numbers were wrong.Completely wrong.
Charts misaligned. Formulas broken.Projected profits inflated like a lie.
"No… no, no," she whispered.It had been perfect yesterday.Someone had tampered with it.
Panic clawed at her chest. The presentation was in six hours. She didn't have time to think, only to fix.
"Morning, Ella."
She turned. Vivian stood there—coffee in hand, smile bright.Too bright.
"Morning," Ella said carefully.
"Big day," Vivian chirped. "Board presentation. I heard Mr. Blackwood wants perfection."Her smirk was sweet poison. "Good luck with that."
And she walked away, heels clicking like knives.
Suspicion flickered in Ella's mind.But she couldn't afford to chase it. Not now.
By noon, she'd rewritten everything.Triple-checked every number. Every chart.Her hands trembled from caffeine and nerves.
At 1:55 p.m., she printed the final version and rushed to the boardroom.
Alexander was already there—confident, immaculate, talking with Richard and three other board members.When his gaze landed on her, it lingered.He took in the navy dress, expression unreadable—maybe approval. Maybe ownership.
"Miss Montgomery," he said coolly. "Distribute the reports."
Ella obeyed, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
Alexander opened his copy. His face stayed calm, but his jaw ticked.
"These projections," he said slowly, "differ from what I reviewed yesterday."
Ella's blood ran cold."Yes, sir. I—had to correct—"
"Correct?" His tone sharpened. "Or change?" He flipped pages, his voice cutting like ice. "Because the version I saw was accurate. This one… isn't."
"What?" Ella grabbed her own copy, scanning.The numbers—wrong. Again.
But she'd fixed them. She'd printed this version herself.
"Miss Montgomery," Alexander said, voice flat, lethal. "Did you sabotage your own report?"
"What? No!" she gasped. "Someone changed it yesterday. I fixed it this morning—"
"Excuses." He shut the folder. "Gentlemen, we'll postpone. My secretary provided inaccurate data."
"Alexander," Richard began carefully, "perhaps we should—"
"There's nothing to investigate. She failed."He stood, buttoned his jacket. "My office. Now."
Ella followed in stunned silence. Her mind raced.Someone had tampered with it again. But who—and how?
The office door slammed behind them.
"Explain," Alexander said. Calm. Too calm.
"I can't! I fixed everything this morning—I checked it three times—"
"And yet it was wrong."
"Because someone changed it!" Her voice cracked. "I wouldn't destroy my own work!"
He stepped closer. "Wouldn't you? To get attention? To play the victim?"
Her jaw dropped. "You think I did this on purpose?"
"I think," he said softly, "you've been avoiding me. And maybe this is your way of forcing my attention."
"That's insane!" she snapped. "Or maybe—" she took a shaky breath "—someone in this office hates me. Because of you. Because you claimed me. Because you made me a target!"
He grabbed her wrist. "Don't—"
"Don't what? Speak the truth?" She yanked free. "You want to know who's sabotaging me? Look in the mirror."
A dangerous silence fell.
Then Alexander moved. Fast.He pulled out his phone.
"Marcus. Security footage—Ella's desk. Yesterday, five p.m. to this morning, eight a.m. Send it to me. Now."
He hung up, his eyes locked on hers. "We'll see who's lying."
Three minutes later, the footage played on his monitor.
5:47 p.m. — Ella leaving.6:23 p.m. — Office empty.7:15 p.m. — A figure approached her desk.
Alexander zoomed in.
Vivian Cross.Typing. Smiling. Editing her report.
Ella's breath caught.
Then—11:42 a.m. that same morning. While Ella was in the restroom.Vivian again. At her desk. Switching papers.
Alexander's jaw clenched. His knuckles turned white.He grabbed his phone again."Send Vivian Cross to my office," he said, voice terrifyingly calm. "And bring the board back. We're having that presentation after all."
When he hung up, his expression shifted. The fury melted—just a little."I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Ella blinked. "What?"
"I accused you. I should have trusted you." His hand brushed her cheek, unexpectedly gentle. "I'm sorry."
Before she could respond, the door opened.
Vivian entered—poised, confident."You called, Alexander?"
"Close the door," he said.
She obeyed, still smiling.
Then he played the footage.
The smile disappeared.
"I can explain—"
"Explain?" His voice was soft. Dangerous. "You sabotaged company data. Framed my secretary. Why?"
Her mask cracked. "Because she doesn't deserve you!" she cried. "She's nobody! I've been here six years, and you chose her?"
"I didn't ask for your approval," he said coldly. "I chose her. That's enough."
"She's using you—"
"No." His tone dropped lower, lethal. "You used your position to hurt someone I care about." He reached for a folder. "You're fired. Effective immediately. Security will escort you out. And if you so much as look at her again…" His eyes darkened. "I'll destroy you—career, reputation, everything."
Vivian's face went pale. "You can't—"
"I already did."
He pressed a button. Two security guards entered."Escort Miss Cross out."
She thrashed. "This isn't over!" she screamed at Ella. "He'll get bored of you—just like the rest!"
"Out," Alexander ordered.
They dragged her away. The door shut. Silence fell.
"Thank you," Ella whispered.
"Don't thank me." His voice softened, regretful. "I should've believed you. Jealousy clouded my judgment."
"Jealousy?" she asked.
He met her eyes. "Of Chen. Yesterday. I was angry. So I assumed the worst. I'm sorry."
Two apologies in one day. From Alexander Blackwood.Unbelievable.
"Come," he said, extending a hand. "The board's waiting. Let's show them the real report."
The presentation was perfect.Ella spoke with calm precision, every slide flawless.The board members nodded, impressed.
When it ended, Richard smiled warmly. "Excellent work, Miss Montgomery. Truly excellent."
"Thank you, sir."
"Alexander is lucky to have you," he said—and walked away.
Only Alexander remained.
"You did well," he said quietly.
"I did my job."
"You did more than that." He stepped closer. "You proved everyone wrong. Proved you belong here."
Her eyes flicked to his. "Do I? Or do I just belong to you?"
His lips curved. "Both."
At 9 p.m., Ella was still packing up, exhaustion weighing her down."Come," Alexander's voice said from the doorway.
She looked up. He stood there, jacket over his arm.
"I'm driving you home."
"That's not necessary—"
"It wasn't a request." His gaze left no room for argument.
Too tired to fight, she followed.
The elevator ride was silent.His car gleamed under the garage lights—sleek, black, dangerous.He opened her door. Waited until she sat. Closed it gently.
The drive was quiet. City lights blurred by.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked finally."Driving you home?"
"All of it. Protecting me. Controlling me. What do you want from me, Alexander?"
His hands tightened on the wheel."Everything," he said simply.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have." His eyes flicked to her. "You consume me, Ella. I can't focus when you're not near. Can't breathe when you're upset." His jaw tightened. "I don't know what this is. But I need it. I need you."
"You need to control me."
"Maybe." His voice lowered. "Or maybe I need to protect you. From them. From yourself."
He parked in front of her building. Didn't unlock the doors.
"Alexander—"
"Your life is mine now," he said softly. "Inside the office. Outside it. Every moment. Every breath." His gaze burned into hers. "I won't apologize. I won't stop. This is who I am."
"A controlling obsessive?" she whispered.
"A man who knows what he wants." His fingers brushed her cheek. "And I want you. All of you. Forever."
"That's insane."
"Probably." He leaned closer. "But you feel it too. This pull. This need."
"I feel trapped."
"Trapped," he murmured, thumb brushing her lips, "or protected?"
"What's the difference?"
"The difference," he whispered, "is that I'll never hurt you. Everyone else will. But not me."
"You hurt me all the time."
"No. I push you. There's a difference."
"Is there?"
He didn't answer. He kissed her—soft this time. Slow. Different.When he pulled back, his eyes were darker than the night.
"Go inside," he said. "Lock your door. Don't open it for anyone but me."
Her breath trembled. "Why would you come to my door?"
His smile was dangerous. "Because I can't stay away anymore."
He unlocked the doors.
Ella stepped out on shaky legs.She walked to her building, feeling his gaze on her back. Always watching. Always there.
When she reached her door and turned, his car was still parked outside.
He wouldn't leave until she was safe.Protected.Possessed.