"She woke up in a place that seemed to know her better than she knew herself.
Her face stared back at her from the walls.
A stranger whispered "princess," like she already belonged to him.
And somewhere between the gold ceilings and his mismatched eyes…
she realized she wasn't waking from a dream.
She was waking in someone's obsession."
I woke slowly, my head pounding like a drum. I didn't know where I was. My mind felt blank—empty—as if someone had erased everything I knew. The room stretched around me, impossibly large, golden light spilling through glass ceilings. My eyes widened. It wasn't just a room… it was a palace.
I turned to the side, fingers brushing the cool sheets. Then my gaze caught the mirror. I froze. My reflection stared back—exactly as I looked, yet somehow… wrong. I touched my face, then touched the mirror, as if to confirm I was real. My reflection mirrored my movements perfectly. My hands trembled.
My eyes wandered. A huge painting hung on the wall, and my stomach knotted. The painting resembled me. Not just vaguely—it was me. Every line, every curve, every expression captured on canvas. I spun back to the mirror. The reflection confirmed it. This… this was me. But how?
A door caught my attention. It was slightly ajar. Hesitant, I walked toward it. When I opened it, I stepped into a grand hallway. Palm trees framed the windows, golden accents glimmered across the walls, and the moonlight poured in through the glass ceiling. Paintings of my face hung along the walls, scattered like a twisted gallery. My heart thumped. I felt small, out of place… terrified.
Voices drifted to me from down the hall. Instinctively, I ducked behind a wall. On the ground before me, a blonde man knelt, beaten badly. His face was familiar, though I couldn't place it. A tall man stood over him, flanked by bulky guards who ensured he couldn't escape. On the floor beside them, another man seemed unconscious.
I thought I was safe behind the wall, thinking I was unseen. But then his gaze caught mine. I gasped and ducked lower. My heart slammed against my ribs.
⸻
He stood in front of me. One blue eye, one hazel, a scar cutting across his hazel eyes, his grin sharp and unnerving—handsome, yes, but there was something in it that made my stomach turn. I wanted to look away. I couldn't.
"Awake… princess,"
The way he said it made something cold curl down my spine. His voice was soft—but the type of soft that warned trouble, danger, disaster wrapped in silk.
His mismatched eyes dragged over my face like he was memorizing me, like he'd seen me a thousand times before and still wasn't done looking.
. "Wh-who are you? Where am I? What—what is this?"
His grin deepened—Like he enjoyed the panic trembling through my body.
He lifted a hand slowly.
I flinched.
But instead of grabbing me, he brushed his knuckles along my cheek.
"Easy," he murmured. "You're shaking."
Of course I was shaking. My mind was blank. My body didn't remember him. But he… he looked at me like he'd known me forever.
"I need to leave," I whispered. "Please—I don't know who I am. I don't know anything. I don't know—"
The dizziness hit me again, I would've hit the floor if his arms didn't catch me immediately.
He carried me back toward the room I woke in. My heart thundered. My fingers shook as they clutched his shirt. I didn't want to hold onto him. My body just… panicked, searching for balance.
He laid me back on the bed slowly, as if I was fragile glass he didn't want to break.
Don't touch me," I whispered, breathless.
He tilted his head. The grin faded—replaced by something far worse. Calm. Controlled. Possessive.
"You don't need to remember anything right now," he said softly.
Then he leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper just above my lips—
"Except that you're mine."
"Wh-what? No—I don't even know you. Why are there paintings of me? Where am I? Tell me who I am!"
The moment his eyes left mine, my body acted before my mind did.
I scrambled off the bed—nearly stumbling as my feet hit the cold floor—and I sprinted toward the door.
My pulse pounded in my ears.
Just get out. Just get away from him.
I gripped the handle with shaking fingers, twisting hard.
It didn't budge.
I twisted again. Yanked. Slammed my shoulder into it.
Locked.
"No, no, no—"
Behind me, I heard the faintest sound.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Like he already knew I wasn't getting anywhere.
I turned just as his shadow rolled over me.
He didn't even break a sweat.
He simply reached out, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me back like I weighed nothing. A gasp ripped from my throat as he flung me onto the bed—my body hit the mattress and bounced once, breath knocked out of me.
I tried to push up, but he was already there—already climbing over me with that terrifying, controlled grace.
He caged me in, one hand slamming beside my head, the other gripping my wrist and pinning it above me.
His face lowered to my neck—slow, deliberate—like he was inhaling me, tasting the fear on my skin.
I turned my head away, breath shaking. "Let me go—"
A soft, dark laugh spilled from him.
He dragged his nose along the line of my jaw, and my whole body shivered in spite of me.
"You're in my mansion," he murmured. "In my bed.… and you actually think that door was ever going to open for you?"
His gaze dropped to my lips—brief, hungry.
"Run again… and I'll show you exactly what I do to things I plan to keep."