Chapter 8: The Confession
The rain fell hard that night, washing over the glass windows of the mansion, blurring the city lights outside. Vierrah stood by the balcony, wrapped in Lucas's coat—the same one he'd draped over her the night before. The scent of his cologne lingered in the fabric, intoxicating and suffocating at once.
She hadn't spoken much since their dinner. Everything between them felt fragile, like glass ready to shatter.
And yet, part of her felt… safe. Safe in a way that terrified her.
She was about to turn away when she heard his voice behind her. Low. Unsteady.
"Do you still hate me?"
She froze. Lucas stood by the doorway, shirt sleeves rolled up, eyes shadowed. There was no trace of his usual calmness—only rawness. Something restless burned in him tonight.
"I don't…" she started, unsure. "I don't know anymore."
He took slow steps toward her. "You should. After everything I've done."
Her stomach tightened. "Lucas, what are you talking about?"
He smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You deserve the truth."
She blinked. "Truth?"
Lucas exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I can't keep lying to you, Vierrah. Not after what we've become."
Her pulse quickened. "Lucas, you're scaring me."
He stopped a few feet away, his jaw tense. "Do you remember the first time we met?"
She nodded slowly. "At that business event. My father introduced us."
A dark chuckle escaped him. "That's what you think."
Vierrah frowned. "What do you mean?"
Lucas's eyes met hers—and the warmth she often saw in them turned into something colder, sharper.
"I already knew you long before that night," he said softly. "Five years before, to be exact."
Her breath hitched. "What…?"
"I saw you once," he continued, voice almost nostalgic. "You were walking with your friends near the university. Laughing. Holding an umbrella that barely kept the rain off your hair. You had no idea someone was watching."
She felt her knees weaken. "Lucas, stop—"
"I couldn't forget you after that," he said, stepping closer. "Every day, every week, I needed to see you. To make sure you were safe, happy. I knew what coffee you liked, the time you left for school, the way you smiled when you read. I memorized you, Vierrah."
Tears welled in her eyes. "You're saying you—"
"Stalked you," he finished for her. "Yes."
Her hands trembled. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you deserve honesty," he whispered. "Because I can't stand you looking at me like I'm a stranger when I've known you—loved you—for so long."
Vierrah shook her head, backing away. "Lucas, this isn't love. This is obsession."
He followed her slowly, his gaze burning into her. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't hate myself for it? But what was I supposed to do, Vierrah? Just watch you fall in love with someone else?"
Her back hit the wall. "You manipulated me. You used my father's company—"
"I saved your family!" His voice rose suddenly, the calm breaking. "I saved everything you cared about. I just wanted you to be mine. I couldn't lose you, not after waiting for so long."
She flinched, tears slipping down her cheeks. "You took away my choice…"
His breathing grew heavier. "Maybe I did. Maybe I'm selfish. Maybe I'm insane."
Then, quieter—broken—
"But I love you more than anyone ever could."
Silence filled the room. The sound of rain, the faint hum of the chandelier above, her heartbeat pounding in her ears—it all blurred together.
Vierrah's throat tightened as she whispered, "You don't understand what you've done to me…"
"I understand exactly what I've done." He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek. "And I'd do it again."
She slapped his hand away, trembling. "You planned this. You ruined my life."
"I gave you a better one," he said softly. "You live in safety, luxury. You're mine, Vierrah. You'll never have to be afraid again."
"I am afraid!" she cried. "Every single day, I wake up afraid of what you'll do next."
That made him stop. For a second, pain flashed in his eyes—a deep, wounded kind of pain.
Then he nodded slowly, almost accepting it.
"I know," he whispered. "And I hate that. I hate that I scare the woman I'd die for."
She turned away, clutching her chest. "Lucas, you need help."
He chuckled bitterly. "Help won't change how much I love you."
He took another step toward her, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath. "You can hate me, scream at me, curse my name… but you'll never escape what we have. Because I made sure of that."
Her stomach turned cold. "What do you mean?"
He smiled faintly, eyes glinting. "Your phone. Your car. This house. Everything is connected to me. You can't leave without me knowing. You'll never be alone again, Vierrah."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She could only stare at him, realization sinking in like poison.
"I did all of this for love," he murmured. "You were meant to be mine. From the very beginning."
He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against hers. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"You think I'm crazy?" He smiled faintly. "Maybe. But I love you more than anyone ever could."
Her tears fell freely now, her heart splitting between fear and something cruelly familiar—pity. Because beneath his madness, she saw the boy he might've been. Lonely. Yearning. Twisted by love until it became something dangerous.
She wanted to scream, to run—but when he pulled her into his arms, her body didn't move.
His heartbeat thudded against hers, steady, strong, inescapable.
And she realized something that broke her completely.
He wasn't just her captor.
He was the only one who truly saw her—and that terrified her even more.
Because even as she cried, she didn't pull away.
Even as she whispered, "I hate you," her heart still betrayed her with its trembling rhythm.
And when he kissed her tears, whispering, "You'll understand one day,"
she knew she was already too deep.
Love had become her prison.
And Lucas—the man she should've run from—had become the only place she could hide.
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