The city skyline shimmered under the evening sun, casting a golden glow over Hawthorne Tower. From his office on the top floor, Asher Hawthorne watched the bustling streets below, a sense of calm and fulfillment settling over him. For years, he had been underestimated, humiliated, and dismissed, but those days were long behind him. He had reclaimed not only his inheritance but also his dignity, his authority, and his life on his own terms.Charlotte stood beside him, her hand lightly brushing his as they reviewed the final plans for Hawthorne Enterprises’ latest expansion. Her presence was grounding, comforting, and invigorating—a perfect balance to his deliberate, calculated nature. Together, they had built a partnership rooted in equality, respect, and shared vision.Asher’s thoughts drifted briefly to the past, to Bella, to the three years of humiliation, misunderstanding, and underestimation. He had once loved her, yes—but that love had been tempered by patience, endurance, and ul

The city never truly slept, and neither did Bella’s obsession. From her apartment overlooking the glowing skyline, she poured over the latest reports her private investigator had sent. Every photograph of Asher Hawthorne moving through the world, every detail of his meetings, every subtle nuance of his interactions with Charlotte was meticulously documented. She had begun to believe, against her better judgment, that she might find some fragment of the man she had once known—a glimpse of the Asher who had loved her, before her arrogance and disregard had cost her everything.But every update confirmed the truth: he was no longer that man. He was deliberate, composed, and fully aligned with Charlotte in both vision and purpose. The empire he had rebuilt was untouchable, and so was he. Every glance she had once believed held hesitation or doubt now radiated certainty, command, and control.Her fingers trembled as she set the reports aside. A part of her screamed that she should give up,

Bella sat in her apartment, the city lights flickering through the large windows like tiny constellations mocking her. Her mind raced, replaying the confrontation at the gala over and over. Every word Asher had said, every look he had given her, cut deeper than she had expected. She had always believed she could bend him, manipulate him, regain the control she had lost over three long years. But the man she had once humiliated had become untouchable, deliberate, and unwavering.Her fingers shook as she poured herself another glass of wine. The alcohol did little to calm her nerves; it only heightened the sharp edge of frustration and obsession. She couldn’t just let it go. She wouldn’t. She had invested years in a marriage built on illusions of control, and she refused to accept that the illusion had finally shattered.Her private investigator had been relentless, providing her with the details of Asher’s life since their divorce. Every meeting, every travel itinerary, every public ap

Bella’s apartment was dark, save for the pale glow of her laptop screen. The city stretched endlessly below, its lights reflecting a life she could observe but no longer influence. For three years, she had believed she held power over Asher, that her marriage—however dysfunctional—placed her at the center of his universe. She had been wrong. And tonight, after the public humiliation at the gala, that realization had crystallized into something darker, sharper, and far more dangerous: obsession.She sank into her chair, fingers trembling as she scrolled through every image, every report, every scrap of information her private investigator had sent her. Asher was untouchable—deliberate, precise, and aligned with Charlotte in ways Bella could not compete with. Every plan she had meticulously crafted to regain influence, every “coincidental” encounter she had engineered, had been anticipated and neutralized.And yet, she could not stop.Bella poured herself another glass of wine, the liqu

Bella sat in the quiet of her apartment, the city lights reflecting in her dark eyes like shards of her fractured pride. The last public confrontation had left her shaken, humiliated, and yet, perversely, more determined than ever. She had underestimated Asher Hawthorne, and the weight of that mistake was a fire that consumed every rational thought. Three years of manipulation, humiliation, and assumed control had left her with only one thing she could cling to: obsession.Her fingers flew across her laptop, drafting messages she would never send, reviewing every photograph, every report her private investigator had collected over the past months. She had learned his schedule, his habits, even the subtle interactions that revealed his preferences and priorities. Every detail was fuel for her obsession, yet even as she meticulously planned, she knew that everything she tried before had failed. Every attempt to provoke him, every orchestrated encounter, had been anticipated, neutralized