THE CEO'S TWISTED OBSESSION

Chapter 10: The Heart of the Matter

The air in the Obsidian Mansion was thinner, colder, and smelled faintly of antiseptic—a sharp contrast to the musk and sweat that had filled the bedroom hours before. I stood by the grand window, watching a black helicopter descend through the mist onto the private pad.

"They’re here," Adrian’s voice came from the doorway.

He was dressed in a charcoal suit, looking every bit the ruthless tycoon. There was no trace of the man who had pinned me to the bed with such feverish hunger just a few hours ago. He walked toward me, his eyes flicking to the nightstand where the monitor sat.

82 bpm.

"You’re remarkably calm for a woman whose time is running out," he remarked, his fingers reaching out to adjust the silver choker. It felt like a ritual now—his way of checking if his property was still functioning.

"I’m not calm, Adrian. I’m empty," I replied, staring at the helicopter. "Is that the surgical team? Are you going to cut me open now?"

Adrian didn't answer. He simply took my hand and led me down to the lower levels of the mansion. We descended into a wing I hadn't seen before—a state-of-the-art medical suite hidden beneath the stone. The rhythmic beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor echoed through the hall, a chilling mirror to the sensor on my neck.

We stopped in front of a glass partition. Inside lay a woman, her skin as pale as parchment, her body connected to a labyrinth of tubes and machines. Elena Vance. Adrian’s mother.

"She doesn't have weeks, Elara. She has days," Adrian whispered. His grip on my hand tightened, almost painfully.

"Then do it," I said, turning to face him, my eyes burning with defiance. "If this was always the plan, why the games? Why the penthouse? Why the... the things you did to me? Just take it and let me be at peace."

Adrian’s jaw tightened. He signaled to Doctor Julian, who was standing by the bedside. Julian stepped out, looking exhausted, his eyes refusing to meet mine.

"The tests are complete, Adrian," Julian said, his voice heavy. "The compatibility is perfect. 99.9%."

"And the alternative?" Adrian asked.

Julian shook his head. "The artificial heart prototype won't hold. Her body is rejecting everything but a biological match. It’s Elara... or nothing."

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. This was it. The end of my story. But then, I saw something. A file on the desk near the bed. It was a donor registry list—one that had been heavily redacted.

"Why is my name the only one on that list?" I asked, stepping toward the file.

"Elara, don't," Adrian warned, his voice low.

I ignored him, snatching the file. My eyes scanned the names. There were hundreds of potential donors. But every single one had been marked with a red stamp: TERMINATED.

"You didn't just find me, Adrian," I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "You hunted every other donor down. You bought their silence, you sent them away... you ensured I was the only option."

Adrian walked toward me, his presence looming like a shadow. "I told you, I’ve been watching you for ten years. I couldn't risk a heart from a stranger. I needed your heart. The heart that beat with courage when you pulled me from that car. The heart that was pure."

"Pure?" I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "You’ve spent the last month trying to corrupt it! You’ve trapped me, terrified me, and forced me to feel things for a monster! Is that what you want in your mother’s chest? A heart filled with hate for her son?"

Suddenly, Elena Vance stirred. Her eyes opened—cloudy, pained, but sharp. She looked at me, then at the silver choker on my neck. Her hand trembled as she reached for her oxygen mask, pulling it aside.

"Adrian..." she wheezed.

Adrian rushed to her side, his face transforming into that of a desperate, grieving boy. "I'm here, Mother. Everything is ready. The donor is here."

Elena’s gaze moved to me, and for a moment, I saw a reflection of my own soul in her eyes. "No," she whispered.

"Mother, please—"

"I saw... the photos," Elena gasped, her voice barely audible. "In your office. Ten years of photos. You didn't... collect her for me."

She looked at me, a tear escaping the corner of her eye. "He didn't bring you here to save me, child. He brought you here because he’s terrified... that if I die, he’ll have no reason to be a man. He’ll become the beast he thinks he is."

She turned back to Adrian, her voice gaining a haunting strength. "You don't want her heart for me, Adrian. You want her heart... so you can keep it in a jar. You want to kill her... because you’re afraid to love something that can leave you."

Adrian froze. The silence in the room was deafening. The heart monitor began to flatline, a long, continuous drone filling the room.

"Mother! Julian, get in here!" Adrian screamed.

The medical team rushed in, pushing us out. I stood in the hallway, my back against the cold stone, watching through the glass as they fought to bring her back. Adrian stood perfectly still, his hands fisted at his sides, his eyes fixed on his mother’s dying face.

And then, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out.

160 bpm.

He turned to look at me. My heart was racing—not out of fear for myself, but out of a sudden, horrific pity for the man who had destroyed my life. I saw it then: the "Twisted Obsession" wasn't just about the transplant. It was a man who didn't know the difference between love and ownership, between a heart that beats and a heart that is kept.

"If she dies," I whispered, "will you still kill me?"

Adrian walked toward me, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated madness. He reached out, his hand wrapping around the silver choker so hard the metal bit into my skin. He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine.

"If she dies," he whispered, his voice breaking, "you’re the only thing left in this world that belongs to me. I won't kill you, Elara. I’ll make sure you live forever. In this house. In that bed. Until your heart forgets how to beat for anyone but me."

The monitor inside the room stopped its drone. A heavy silence followed.

Doctor Julian stepped out, his head bowed. "She’s gone, Adrian."

Adrian didn't move. He didn't cry. He just gripped my neck tighter, his eyes locking onto mine with a possessive fire that told me my nightmare was only just beginning. The surgery was off. But the cage... the cage had just become permanent.

"Welcome home, Elara," he murmured, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that tasted like an end and a beginning all at once. "Now, you really are mine. To the very last beat."