Petal's POV

The night was silent, save for the echo of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. How had I ended up here? The air in the room felt suffocating, the dim lighting casting ominous shadows on the walls. My face still burned from the sting of his slap, and my shoulder throbbed where his teeth had sunk into my flesh. My mind raced, desperate for answers, desperate for a way out. But the only thing that greeted me was the sinister smirk on Sebastian's face, a cruel reminder of the power he wielded.

How did my life spiral into this? Everything had been fine—or so I thought. I had been preparing for graduation, dreaming of a quiet and independent life. My family was my world, and I had plans to make them proud. But Sebastian, with his overwhelming presence, had other plans. He had always been around—my family’s close friend, a charming yet enigmatic figure. I never paid much attention to him beyond the polite exchanges and casual meetings. I never realized he had been watching me, scheming, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And strike he did.

The evening started like any other. I am sitting in the Almighty Sebastian's room, lost in my world. The knock on the door startled me. Before I could respond, Sebastian strode in with his usual arrogance, closing the door behind him with a finality that made my stomach churn. His sharp suit and perfectly groomed appearance were a stark contrast to the storm brewing in his eyes.

“We need to talk,” he had said, his voice low but commanding. I hesitated, unsure of what he could possibly want from me. Before I could protest, he grabbed my arm and pulled me up from my chair. The force of his grip made me wince.

“What the hell are you doing? Let go of me!” I yelled, struggling to free myself from his grasp. But he was unyielding, his strength a reminder of how powerless I was in that moment.

“We are getting married after your graduation, my flower,” he said, his voice cold and unrelenting.

I froze. His words were like a blow, stealing the air from my lungs. “What the hell!” I yelled, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. “I’m not fucking getting married to you, did you hear that?!” My voice rose, but the defiance only seemed to fuel his anger.

“Don’t curse in front of me. It’s not ladylike,” he snapped, his teeth clenched as his eyes bore into mine.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me how to talk? Get away from me, you bastard!” I screamed, thrashing in his hold. But my resistance only made things worse. His eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flashing in them as his grip tightened. The vein on his forehead pulsed with barely restrained rage. Before I could react, his hand shot out, the slap reverberating through the room. My head whipped to the side, the force of the blow leaving me stunned. Pain radiated from my cheek, but my pride hurt more.

I tried to raise a hand to my stinging face, but his iron grip on my wrists prevented any movement. My tears blurred my vision as he forced me to look at him, his hand gripping my jaw with bruising force.

“When I tell you to behave, you have to do it. And when I tell you to not use cursing words, then don’t. Did you get that?” he hissed, his voice dripping with menace. His nails dug into my skin, adding to the pain.

“It hurts, Sebastian,” I managed to choke out, my voice trembling as tears streamed down my face.

But my plea fell on deaf ears. He held me captive in his unrelenting gaze, his presence overwhelming and suffocating. I cried loudly, the sound echoing in the silence, but he didn’t back away. Instead, he hovered above me, his smirk returning as though my suffering amused him.

“My parents won’t agree with you. They won’t marry me to you. You can’t do anything about this,” I said, trying to muster some semblance of bravery. My voice wavered, but I forced myself to meet his gaze, hoping to unnerve him.

But instead of the shock or disappointment I expected, he laughed—a low, chilling sound that sent shivers down my spine. “My, my, my, how naïve of you, my little flower, to think that you can scare me,” he said, his tone mocking as he leaned closer.

His laughter was haunting, a cruel melody that I couldn’t escape. Under different circumstances, I might have admired the rich timbre of his voice, the way his features softened when he smiled. But now, all I could see was the predator behind the mask.

“They will willingly give your hand to me, and you are going to do that,” he declared with chilling certainty.

“Why would I do that? Why would I dig my own grave?” I retorted, my voice barely above a whisper. His smirk widened, his confidence unshaken.

“Yes, my darling, you will do that. If you don’t, then be ready to face the consequences,” he said, his voice laced with venom.

My stomach dropped. “Wh-what consequences?” I stuttered, the fear in my voice betraying my attempt at defiance.

He stared into my eyes, his expression cold and unfeeling. “If you don’t do what I say, then your father will lose his job. Your big brother abroad? I’ll make sure he loses his job and ends up in jail for visa violations. Your little brother will be kicked out of college. And your mother… well, she’ll lose her mind dealing with all this. Either way, I will marry you. It’s your choice.”

His words struck me like a dagger, each threat cutting deeper than the last. “No, you won’t. You love my mom. You took her as your own sister,” I said desperately, grasping at straws.

“Believe me when I say I will. As for my sister, yes, she’s like my own sister. But when it comes to you, you are my first priority,” he replied, his tone devoid of any emotion.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you so adamant to marry me? You could have any girl—someone richer, someone more beautiful,” I said, tears streaming down my face.

“I don’t want any whores who only want me for my money. I want you,” he said, his smirk never faltering.

“Please don’t do this. I don’t want to marry you,” I pleaded, my voice breaking.

“You don’t have a choice but to obey me, my flower,” he declared, his words sealing my fate.

“But you are…” My voice trailed off, the words caught in my throat.

“You are what? Complete the sentence, Petal,” he demanded, his tone dangerous.

His words struck me like a dagger, each threat cutting deeper than the last. “No, you won’t. You love my mom. You took her as your own sister,” I said desperately, grasping at straws.

“Believe me when I say I will. As for my sister, yes, she’s like my own sister. But when it comes to you, you are my first priority,” he replied, his tone devoid of any emotion.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you so adamant to marry me? You could have any girl—someone richer, someone more beautiful,” I said, tears streaming down my face.

“I don’t want any whores who only want me for my money. I want you,” he said, his smirk never faltering.

“Please don’t do this. I don’t want to marry you,” I pleaded, my voice breaking.

“You don’t have a choice but to obey me, my flower,” he declared, his words sealing my fate.

“But you are…” My voice trailed off, the words caught in my throat.

“You are what? Complete the sentence, Petal,” he demanded, his tone dangerous.

I stayed silent, too afraid to answer. His eyes darkened further, his patience wearing thin. “I said, complete the fucking sentence!” he roared, his voice echoing in the room. When I didn’t respond, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against my shoulder as he slid the strap of my dress down. Before I could react, his teeth sank into my flesh, a sharp, searing pain ripping through me.

I screamed, the sound raw and desperate. “P-please don’t do that. It hurts. Please let go,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. He licked the spot where he had bitten me, the sensation both soothing and sickening.

“Then complete the sentence,” he said, his voice low and menacing as he pulled back.

“I-I don’t want to marry you because you are…” My voice faltered, the fear choking me.

Before I could finish, his lips crashed against mine in a brutal, punishing kiss. His hands roamed over my body, invading every inch of my personal space. The humiliation, the helplessness—it was too much to bear. My instincts took over, and I slapped him hard, the sound of my palm meeting his cheek breaking the tense silence.

For a moment, the world stood still. His head turned slightly from the impact, but when he looked back at me, the rage in his eyes was enough to make my blood run cold.

And that’s when I realized—there was no escape.

Let me tell you from the beginning how I ended up here, in his home, trapped in his bed, with everything spiraling out of control. My life was simple before him—quiet, uneventful, and filled with dreams of graduating, finding a job, and making my family proud. But that all changed the moment Sebastian D'Angelo decided I belonged to him.

It started innocently enough, or so I thought. A few stolen glances, a casual conversation, and then the shift—the possessiveness in his eyes, the way his voice dropped an octave when he called me My flower. At first, I thought it was harmless, even flattering. But it wasn’t long before his attention became suffocating, his obsession consuming.

He began orchestrating encounters, invading every part of my life. Every move I made, every step I took, I felt his shadow looming behind me. When I tried to pull away, to assert my independence, he tightened his grip. My rejection only fueled his madness, and now I’m here—forced into a nightmare I can’t escape, held captive by a man who claims to love me but doesn’t understand the meaning of the word.

I should’ve seen the warning signs. I should’ve run. But now, it’s too late.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Author's Note: Expect Grammatical Errors English is not my first language. This is not an edited story yet.

Plagiarism is a Crime. Punishable by Law.

All Right Reserved @2022

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In this story ML is a bit aggressive and arrogant, when reading story you might hate him 😉

Don't go complaining around this book, if you are not interested don't read, don't just write hateful comments.

Enjoy reading

Character intro

SEBASTIAN D'ANGELO (ML)

AGE:- 32 years

PERSONALITY:- Arrogant, Handsome, Billionaire, Obsessive, Possessive, jealous, In love with our FL.

PETAL VIOTTO (FL)

AGE:- 20 Years

PERSONALITY:- Sweet, innocent, beautiful, kind , trusts everyone easily, unaware of ML's love towards her.

Prologue

“Please don’t do this, I don’t want to marry you,” pleaded the girl, “You don’t have a choice but to obey me, my flower,” announced Sebastian. “But you are.........

Sebastian D’Angelo, a billionaire who’s obsessed with petal, His friend’s daughter.

He became a sicko chasing after a forbidden desire and swore to protect her when no one else can. A selfish man hellbent on ruining everyone’s lives over a teenage girl.

Protecting her from the evil eyes, he didn’t realize when lines blurred—and the blurrier the line, the easier it is to cross. Now nothing can stop him from keeping his Petal safe by his side forever.

Petal’s POV

"Petal, if you are up, get ready for college. It’s already late!" yelled my mom from the kitchen downstairs. Her voice jolted me awake, and I groggily glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It was already past 8 a.m., and my classes started at 9. Thankfully, my college was only a 15-minute walk from home. But that was irrelevant since Dad always insisted on dropping me off on his way to work. He’s a professor at the same university, which often feels like both a blessing and a curse.

Stretching lazily, I swung my legs over the bed and trudged to the bathroom. As the cool water splashed over my face, I slowly started feeling more awake. My mom’s voice rang in my ears again, reminding me to hurry up. It wasn’t unusual for her to be the most organized person in the family, juggling everything at home while still keeping tabs on everyone else’s schedule.

My family is the heart of my world. We’re five members: Mom, Dad, my elder brother, my younger brother, and me. My elder brother is abroad, pursuing his dream job, and we’re all so proud of him. My younger brother, on the other hand, is still in college and a constant source of mischief in my life. He loves to tease and annoy me at every opportunity, but I know deep down he’s just being a protective little devil.

After finishing my morning routine, I rummaged through my wardrobe, finally settling on a pair of blue jeans, a brown crop top, and a matching shrug. Casual but stylish enough to get me through the day. Satisfied, I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs. The smell of freshly cooked breakfast greeted me, and my stomach growled in response.

Mom was setting plates on the table as I joined my parents for breakfast. Dad was sipping his tea, reading the newspaper like he always did every morning. "Good morning," I greeted them with a small smile, sitting down to eat. Mom had prepared my favorite toast and scrambled eggs, and I wasted no time digging in.

By the time we finished, it was already 8:40. “Come on, Dad, let’s go,” I urged, slinging my bag over my shoulder. He nodded, and we both headed to the car. The drive to college was quiet but comforting. Dad wasn’t much of a talker in the mornings, and I appreciated the silence as I mentally prepared myself for the day ahead.

Once at the university, I thanked Dad and walked toward my building. My first lecture was physics, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. I chose a seat in the middle row—close enough to hear the professor but far enough to avoid catching their attention. As I pulled out my notebook, I glanced over my schedule. Physics first, then math. It wasn’t the most exciting lineup, but it wasn’t the worst either.

The lecture began, and I tried my best to focus, scribbling notes as the professor droned on about concepts I already felt lost in. My best friend, Samy, sat beside me, and I could tell she was just as uninterested as I was. Her real name is Samaria Smith, but everyone calls her Samy. We’ve been best friends since the first day of our first year. I still remember how we met. I had nervously entered the classroom, scanning the rows of unfamiliar faces, and ended up sitting next to her. We exchanged hesitant greetings, and before I knew it, we were chatting about random things. That simple conversation turned into a bond that has only grown stronger with time.

Samy nudged me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Bored already?” she whispered, smirking.

“You have no idea,” I replied, rolling my eyes. We shared a knowing glance, both silently counting down the minutes until the lecture ended.

Finally, the professor wrapped up, and I let out a relieved sigh. But the relief was short-lived as I remembered we still had math next. My mood dipped even further. I wasn’t bad at math, but sitting through long, monotonous lectures wasn’t exactly my idea of fun.

During the break, Samy and I grabbed a quick snack from the cafeteria and caught up on each other’s lives. She told me about her weekend trip with her family, and I shared a few stories about my annoying younger brother. It was moments like these that made college life bearable—having someone to laugh and vent with.

When it was time for math, we reluctantly made our way back to the classroom. I chose the same seat as before, trying to get comfortable for another hour of mind-numbing explanations. As the professor started writing equations on the board, my mind wandered to more pleasant thoughts. I thought about my hobbies—sketching, drawing, and painting. They were my escape, my way of expressing myself. I could spend hours lost in a world of colors and lines, creating art that spoke to my emotions.

I also loved reading stories on Wattpad. There was something magical about diving into a fictional world and experiencing the characters’ lives. It was inspiring, in a way, and I often found myself wondering if I could create such captivating stories someday. For now, though, I was content being a reader, letting those stories fuel my imagination.

“Petal, pay attention!” Samy whispered, nudging me again. I quickly straightened up, pretending to be engrossed in the professor’s lecture. She chuckled softly, knowing exactly what I was doing.

The lecture dragged on, and by the time it ended, I felt completely drained. All I wanted was to go home, curl up on my bed, and let the day’s exhaustion melt away. I packed my things and waved goodbye to Samy as we headed in different directions. She had another class, but I was done for the day.

Walking out of the building, I spotted Dad waiting near the car. As always, he was punctual, and I appreciated his unwavering support. I climbed into the passenger seat, letting out a tired sigh.

“Rough day?” he asked, glancing at me with a small smile.

“Just the usual,” I replied, leaning back against the seat. “Physics and math can really take a toll.”

He chuckled knowingly. “You’ll get through it. Just take it one day at a time.”

The drive home was peaceful, and I felt a sense of comfort being back with my family. As soon as we got home, I changed into my comfy pajamas and headed straight to my room. I pulled out my sketchbook, deciding to unwind with some drawing. The pencil glided across the paper, and with each stroke, I felt my stress fading away.

Sebastian’s POV

The shrill sound of my alarm broke the silence of the early morning. I groaned, rubbing my face as I forced myself out of bed. It was another day, another battle to conquer in the corporate world. Pushing aside my lingering drowsiness, I headed to the bathroom, stepping into the shower. The cold water hit my skin, washing away the remnants of sleep and clearing my mind. Afterward, I put on my perfectly tailored Armani suit, a staple of my wardrobe that spoke of power and precision.

As I adjusted my cufflinks, my butler knocked softly on the door before entering. “Sir, breakfast is ready,” he informed me with his usual calm demeanor. He was a man in his mid-50s, with a head full of grey hair and a posture that reflected years of dedicated service. I respected him immensely, knowing the effort and discipline it took to stay steadfast in one’s duties. Respect like that doesn’t come easy; it’s earned through hardship, something I know all too well.

But the past is a door I rarely open. What lies behind it is not something I dwell on. It only brings sadness and distraction, and I have no time for either.

I descended the stairs, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee greeting me as I entered the dining room. Taking my seat at the head of the table, I began my breakfast—a carefully balanced meal prepared to keep me energized throughout the day. While eating, I scrolled through my phone, responding to emails and reviewing updates from my department heads. Multitasking was second nature to me. Time is precious, and I waste none of it.

After finishing, I signaled to my driver to prepare the car. The sleek black vehicle awaited me in the driveway, ready to ferry me to my empire. The towering skyscraper that bore my company’s name gleamed under the sunlight as we approached. It stood as a testament to years of relentless work, built on a foundation of sweat, sleepless nights, and the unwavering support of one person who believed in my dream. That person’s memory is a light I carry with me, even in my darkest moments.

The driver opened the door, and I stepped out, straightening my jacket as I entered the building. My presence commanded respect. Employees greeted me with nervous smiles and hurried bows, aware that I tolerated nothing less than perfection during work hours. I walked with purpose, stepping into my private elevator and pressing the button to my office floor. The doors closed, encasing me in silence as the elevator ascended smoothly. Minutes later, a soft ding signaled my arrival. The doors slid open, and I strode out, making my way to my cabin.

Settling into my desk, I immersed myself in the day’s tasks. Important documents waited for my signature—contracts, agreements, and proposals that could determine the future of my company. My office was a sanctuary of efficiency, its modern design reflecting my personality: sharp, precise, and unyielding.

A knock at the door interrupted my focus. “Come in,” I said, my voice cold and authoritative. It was a tone that left no room for casual conversation, a tone that ensured my employees respected me—or feared me. My secretary stepped in, clutching a clipboard.

“Sir, you have a meeting with the Japanese clients in an hour. It’s regarding the expansion project that could bring significant opportunities for the company,” she reported, her tone professional but tinged with apprehension. Everyone knew I had no patience for inefficiency.

I nodded curtly, dismissing her with a glance. My focus shifted to the details of the upcoming meeting. Every project, every deal, was a step toward solidifying my legacy—a legacy I’d built with my own hands, overcoming obstacles that would have broken weaker men.

As I walked to the conference room, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Glancing at the caller ID, I saw it was one of my men. My heart quickened slightly, though my expression remained impassive. I answered, my voice calm but expectant.

“What is it?” I asked.

“She’s attending her math class now, sir,” came the reply. Relief washed over me, though I didn’t show it. The "she" in question was my Flower—my Love. My world revolved around her, even if she didn’t know it. For now, she was blissfully unaware of my obsession, of the lengths I went to ensure her safety.

“Good,” I replied, my tone softer than usual. “Keep an eye on her. Report to me if anything seems off.”

“Understood,” the man said before ending the call.

I pocketed my phone, my thoughts momentarily distracted by her. My Flower was delicate, innocent, and far too naïve for her own good. She didn’t realize how vulnerable she was, how the world could be cruel and unforgiving. That’s why I had men guarding her, ensuring no harm came her way. She would never know about the shadows that followed her, the silent protectors I had stationed to watch over her. She didn’t need to know. It was my responsibility to shield her from danger, even if it meant keeping secrets from her.

I entered the conference room, my mind snapping back to the task at hand. The meeting proceeded smoothly, the Japanese clients impressed by the thoroughness of my proposal. I kept my focus sharp, every word calculated to ensure the deal would close in my favor. Success was the only option, and by the time the meeting ended, I knew I’d secured another milestone for my company.

Returning to my office, I allowed myself a moment to think of her again. My Flower. She didn’t know how much power she held over me, how her mere existence drove me to achieve greater heights. She was my muse, my reason for everything I did. Yet, she remained oblivious to my feelings. Part of me wanted to keep it that way, to preserve her innocence. But another part of me, the darker, more possessive part, wanted her to know she was mine.

There were days when I struggled to keep my emotions in check, days when the desire to claim her, to make her mine, burned too strongly to ignore. But I knew I had to be patient. She deserved the world, and I was determined to give it to her—on my terms.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings, phone calls, and paperwork. By evening, as I sat in my office reviewing the final reports, my thoughts drifted back to her. I checked my phone, half-expecting an update from my men. None came, which meant all was well. Still, I couldn’t resist pulling up the schedule I had painstakingly memorized. Her routine was etched into my mind: her classes, her hobbies, even her favorite places to visit. It was a map of her life, one I followed closely.

Leaning back in my chair, I allowed myself a rare smile. She was safe, and that was all that mattered. For now, I could continue watching from the shadows, ensuring her happiness and security. But one day, she would know. One day, she would look at me and realize that everything I did, every step I took, was for her.

And when that day came, she would finally be mine