Sinful Obsession: Chapter 9

A week had passed and Cassian hadn’t spoken of punishment. Not a word, not a glance that carried the threat he’d promised.

His silence was louder than any threat, a storm brewing behind those dark, unreadable eyes. And me? I hadn’t tried to leave.

Not because I didn’t want to, but because Ethan, my only lifeline, hadn’t given me a clear path out.

Every call to him went unanswered, followed by cryptic texts: Working on it. Don’t alert Cassian.

As if I’d be foolish enough to tip off the man who held my life in his hands.

Cassian was changing, though, in ways that unsettled me.

He no longer barked orders or loomed with menace.

Yesterday, I caught him watching me as I read in the library, his gaze not cold but burning—obsessed, hungry, like I was a puzzle he’d kill to solve.

And last night, when he carried me to bed after I’d fallen asleep on the couch, his hands lingered, gentle but possessive, tucking the blanket around me with a care that felt too intimate for the distance between us.

Yet the chasm remained, a silent wall of secrets.

Last night, while he slept beside me, his breaths deep and even, I did something reckless.

I reached out, my fingers trembling, and plucked a strand of his dark hair from the pillow. I tucked it into the back pocket of my jeans, a secret for the DNA test I’d run once I was free.

It made no sense—Cassian as the father of my child?

Impossible.

Considering it was impossible for Cassian and me to have been together while I was in the clutches of the man who held me captive for years, the thought alone should have offered some relief. Yet my memories remained a fog, fractured by trauma, lies, and time lost.

Still, I needed to confirm it—the test was the only way to be certain that Cassian was not the father of the life growing inside me.

Though fear prickled at the edges of my mind, one truth remained: this life was mine to protect, no matter the cost.

Now, I wandered the estate’s gardens, the late morning air heavy with the scent of jasmine and impending rain.

My jeans clung to my legs, the hair sample a quiet weight in my pocket.

I kept my steps casual, aware of the cameras hidden in the hedges, the walls, the very air.

Ethan had promised to call, to signal a way out, and I clung to that hope like a lifeline.

My belly, once flat, was starting to show, a subtle curve that made my heart race with both fear and fierce determination.

I didn’t know how far along I was—weeks, maybe months—but time was running out. Ethan needed to move faster.

A prickle of awareness made me pause.

Eyes on me, heavy.

I turned, scanning the garden, until my gaze lifted to the mansion’s highest floor.

There, in the window of his study, Cassian stood, his silhouette framed against the glass.

His stare pierced me, dark, stripping away my pretense of calm.

My chest tightened, dread coiling like a snake. I forced a smile, bending to pluck a flower, twirling it between my fingers as if I hadn’t a care in the world. But my heart pounded, a traitor to my act.

The sky darkened, heavy with the promise of rain.

I should’ve gone inside, but I lingered, pacing the garden paths, hoping Ethan’s call would come.

The first drops fell, cold and sharp, and I cursed my stubbornness as the rain turned to a downpour, soaking my clothes, chilling my bones.

I hurried toward the mansion, the cold biting deeper than it should, my teeth chattering as I reached the door.

Cassian was there, waiting in the foyer, his long black coat draped over his arm like he’d known I’d need it.

His eyes raked over me, taking in my drenched state, and something flickered in his expression—concern, maybe.

“Why the hell did you let the rain touch you?” he asked, his voice low, almost gentle.

He stepped closer, draping the coat over my shoulders, its warmth and his scent enveloping me.

The cold sank into me, my teeth grinding, my body shivering uncontrollably.

The pregnancy made it worse, amplifying every sensation, and I felt vulnerable, exposed. “I didn’t expect it to pour so fast,” I mumbled, my voice shaky as I hugged the coat tighter.

Cassian’s gaze softened, but his jaw remained tight.

My back arched slightly, my feet barely moving, the pain in my chest a dull echo beneath the cold.

Without a word, he scooped me up, his arms strong and sure, carrying me up the grand staircase.

I was too tired to protest, too frozen to care about the embarrassment as he carried me into his bedroom and set me on the edge of the bed.

His hands moved with deliberate care, peeling off my soaked shirt, my jeans, my padded bra, and finally my panties.

My cheeks burned as his fingers brushed my skin, clinical yet intimate.

I shivered, not just from the cold but from the weight of his touch, the way his eyes lingered on my bare skin—not with lust, but with something deeper, something that made my heart stutter.

He tossed the wet clothes into a corner, grabbed a thick duvet from the bed, and wrapped it around me, tucking it tightly as if to shield me from the world.

Then he shed his own shirt, revealing the scarred expanse of his chest, and slid under the duvet beside me, his body a furnace against my chilled skin.

“Will this keep you warm, or should I run a bath?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it, though still edged with that cold Moretti steel.

“No, you’ve done enough. Thank you,” I whispered, avoiding his gaze, my voice barely audible.

His eyes darkened, a flicker of hurt flashing across his face. “Enough? Charlotte… what does that even mean?” His voice cracked, exposing the man beneath the monster. “Do you really think I’d let you freeze? That I’d let anyone—or anything—hurt you?”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I just… I don’t know what you want from me, Cassian. You’ve kept me here, against my will, with your punishment always hanging over me.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “You speak of being kidnapped—it’s convenient. But do you even realize I risked my life to pull you out of that fire? Twice now. Do you know what it means to ignore my own limits, to fight through danger just to make sure you live?”

He move closer, his voice sharp, threaded with possessiveness. “Be grateful, Charlotte. This… protecting you from everyone who wants to tear you apart… it’s the least I can do. And yet you act like it’s not enough.”

I swallowed again, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “Thank you… for saving me, Cassian. But I still feel like a prisoner. Please… let me go.”

His hand shot up, grazing my cheek.

I flinched, expecting a trap—but his touch was impossibly gentle, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw. His eyes bore into mine, dark, stormy, and impossible to ignore.

“Letting you go…” he murmured, voice rough, raw with an emotion I couldn’t place. “Feels like losing something I can’t even name.” He leaned closer, every word dripping with possession. “Stop seeing yourself as a prisoner, Charlotte. You’re not. You’re mine. My wife. Whether you want it or not, you’re… everything.”

The words hit me like a punch, stealing my breath.

My chest felt tight, as if each inhale was a battle.

I wanted to believe him, to trust the warmth—and something more—in his eyes, but the distance between us stretched like a chasm too wide to cross.

Exhaustion clawed at me, dragging my body toward sleep, but my mind refused to obey. Flashes of memory surged unbidden: being thrown into that freezing, endless sea, thrashing and gasping for air, my limbs burning with cold and panic.

My heart raced, anxiety coiling around my chest like a serpent.

What if he found the hair in my pocket?

What if he discovered the baby, the truth I wasn’t ready to face?

I curled into the duvet, clutching it to my chest as if it could shield me from the storm inside.

Sleep was supposed to heal, to soothe, but tonight it was a luxury I could not afford. Tonight, fear and desire warred within me, and I had nowhere to hide—not from him, and not from myself.

Cassian shifted, sliding closer, his arm wrapping around my waist. “Come here,” he said, his voice a command wrapped in velvet.

I stiffened, defiance flaring, but he pulled me against his chest, his strength unyielding. “Stop fighting me, Charlotte. Just for tonight.”

I wanted to push him away, to scream that I didn’t trust him, but his warmth seeped into me, calming the storm in my mind.

My cheek pressed against his chest, the steady thud of his heart grounding me.

For the first time in weeks, I felt… safe.

Not entirely, not enough to tell him about the life growing inside me, but enough to wonder if he’d spare me if he knew.

Could a man like Cassian, forged in blood and betrayal, have a heart soft enough to care?

I wanted to believe it, wanted to trust him, but fear kept the truth locked inside me.

Exhausted, I let his warmth pull me under, and sleep claimed me at last.

When I woke, the bed was empty, the duvet still tucked around my naked body.

Cassian was gone, his absence a cold void.

I didn’t bother dressing before stumbling to the library, my bare feet silent on the marble floor.

My burner phone blinked with three missed calls from Ethan.

My heart leaped—had he found a way out?

I dialed, and he answered on the first ring. “Ethan, any update?” My voice was breathless, urgent.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone clipped but excited. “There’s a river north of Cassian’s estate, through the woods. It’s two kilometers, a tough trek, especially in your condition. I doubt you can make it without tiring or Cassian catching you.”

“I’m not that weak,” I snapped, though my hand rested on my belly, the slight bump a reminder of my limits. “Is that the only way?”

“Yes. His estate’s a fortress—highest-grade tech, cameras everywhere. I barely got that burner phone and the test kit to you with a stealth drone, and even then, I thought his tech guys would spot it. I risked everything, Charlotte—my family, my life.”

I sighed, guilt twisting in my gut. “Thank you, Ethan. How long is a two-kilometer trek?”

“About thirty minutes at a steady pace,” he said. “Less if you’re fast, more if you’re… struggling.”

I swallowed. “I can do it.”

“It’s your only shot. At the river, there’s an electric boat waiting. Drive it to the other side, and I’ll be there with a chopper to take you to Chicago, where Cassian will never find you.”

Where Cassian will never find me. The words echoed, familiar yet wrong, like a memory I couldn’t place. “You’re in New York already?” I asked.

“Yeah, for you. Once you’re across, we’re gone.”

“Okay. I’ll keep you updated.” I hung up, my hands trembling as I slipped the phone back into its hiding place.

I bathed quickly, dressing in loose housewear, and headed to the kitchen.

Cassian’s cameras were everywhere, watching, so I moved with purpose, chopping vegetables with shaking hands, my heart pounding.

What would the woods be like?

Would I make it?

If Cassian caught me, would he kill me? The thought of his eyes—obsessed, hurt, betrayed—made my chest ache.

I ate alone, the silence deafening.

Cassian wasn’t in the dining room, the study, or the lounge.

The cameras would’ve alerted him if he were watching, but I sensed his absence.

It was now or never.

I slipped into my room, trading my housewear for jeans and a fitted top—clothes I could run in.

Standing before the mirror, I placed a hand on my belly, the small bump a quiet promise. “I don’t care who your father is,” I whispered, my voice fierce. “I’ll do anything to protect you.”

I stepped outside, casual as ever, lingering by the two cars parked in the driveway.

I sat on the hood of one, swinging my legs, forcing a laugh as if I were carefree.

Then I started walking north, toward the woods, my steps measured. The unremovable tracker bracelet on my wrist glinted, a shackle Cassian thought would keep me tethered.

He’d assume I was strolling, not fleeing. He had to.

The woods loomed, dark and dense, their shadows swallowing the daylight.

As I crossed the treeline, an eerie familiarity hit me.

I shook it off, my boots crunching on leaves, the air thick with moss and damp earth.

I walked for fifteen minutes, then twenty, my pace slowing as exhaustion crept in.

The morning sun beat down, sweat beading on my brow, my pregnancy symptoms flaring—nausea, dizziness, a heaviness in my limbs.

I sank against a tree, panting, my hands cradling my belly.

The sun was merciless, my throat parched.

I pushed on, branches snagging my clothes, tearing at my skin.

A squirrel darted across my path, and I flinched, stumbling into a thorn bush.

Thorns bit into my leg, drawing blood, but I gritted my teeth and kept going. “It’ll be worth it,” I whispered to my baby, my voice hoarse.

Further in, a low growl froze me.

A wolf, its eyes glinting through the underbrush, stalked closer. My heart pounded, but I stood still, barely breathing, until it turned and vanished.

My legs shook, weak from fear and fatigue.

Later, I slipped on a muddy slope, my ankle twisting, pain shooting through me. I bit back a cry, forcing myself forward, thirst burning my throat, my body screaming to stop. But I couldn’t. Not for me, not for my child.

As dusk fell, the woods thinned, and I crawled, gasping, to the river’s edge.

My legs were swollen, my skin scratched and bruised, my vision blurry from exhaustion. But there it was—an electric boat, bobbing in the current. I clutched my belly, whispering, “We’re almost there, baby. I’ll protect you. I swear it.”

I fumbled for the burner phone, calling Ethan.

He answered instantly. “I made it,” I gasped, my voice barely audible.

“Well done, Charlotte,” he said, his voice warm but urgent. “Get in the boat. I’m waiting on the other side.”

“I’m so tired,” I admitted, my legs buckling as I climbed into the boat.

“You can do this,” he urged. “You have to.”

I stared at the controls, panic rising. “Ethan, I don’t know how to drive this.”

“Listen,” he said, calm but firm. “Flip the power switch, right side. Steer with the wheel, keep it steady. Go slow if you need to.”

I followed his instructions, my hands shaking, my breaths shallow.

The boat hummed to life, rocking on the vast, stormy sea.

The phone sat on the console, Ethan’s voice a lifeline through the wind and waves. “Keep going, Charlotte. You’re almost here.”

I drove, exhaustion pulling at me, my vision fading.

The boat lurched through the storm, waves slapping the hull, my body swaying as I fought to stay conscious.

Ethan’s words—You’re strong, you’ve got this—kept me grounded, but doubt crept in.

Through the fog, I saw a figure on the shore, waiting.

My heart pounded, a sickening sense of wrongness washing over me. This didn’t feel like an escape. It felt like a trap.

Ethan was my friend, the boy I’d protected from bullies years ago. He wouldn’t betray me… would he?

Why did I feel safer with Cassian, the man who’d caged me, than here? I shook my head, muttering, “Ethan’s good. He’s good,” as if saying it would make it true.

The boat reached the shore, and Ethan was there, his face pale but relieved.

He rushed to me, helping me out, his arms steady as my swollen legs gave out. “Oh my God, Charlotte,” he said, lifting me in a fireman’s carry and hurrying to a waiting chopper.

He set me gently in the passenger seat, buckling me in. “You’re safe now. Back where you belong.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice weak, but his words gnawed at me. “What do you mean, back where you belong?”

He didn’t answer, already in the pilot’s seat, the chopper’s blades whirring to life.

I glanced at the tracker bracelet on my wrist, its weight a reminder of Cassian.

I should’ve asked Ethan to remove it, but the chopper was airborne, and exhaustion dulled my thoughts.

As we lifted off, bound for Chicago, a cold dread settled in my chest. I’d escaped Cassian, but something told me I’d traded one cage for another.

A few hours passed, and the chopper’s sudden descent jolted me forward, the rhythmic hum of the blades slowing as we dropped toward… what? I pressed my forehead to the cold glass, fogging it with my breath, and my heart skipped a beat.

A vast, endless sea stretched below us, its waves glinting like knives under the fading light. Confusion clawed at my chest.

Chicago was landlocked—rivers, yes, but no seas. Were we landing on water? My pulse raced, a frantic drumbeat echoing the dread that had been simmering since I boarded this chopper.

I couldn’t shout to Ethan over the roar of the engine, his silhouette rigid in the pilot’s seat, but the unease I’d felt all along surged.

The chopper touched down with a gentle thud, and I scrambled to the other window, my swollen legs protesting.

More sea, dark and unyielding, surrounded us.

No city lights, no skyline—just a boat bobbing nearby, its hull gleaming ominously.

My heart pounded so hard I thought it would crack my ribs.

This wasn’t Chicago. This wasn’t escape.

I stumbled toward the cockpit, my damp clothes clinging to my skin, the tracker bracelet on my wrist a cold, heavy reminder of Cassian.

Ethan turned as I reached him, his face calm, unreadable, a mask that chilled me more than the rain ever could. “Ethan, what’s going on?” My voice trembled, fear bleeding through every word.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his tone flat, as if my panic was nothing.

I gestured wildly at the window. “This doesn’t look like Chicago! We’re in the middle of a fucking sea!”

He leaned back, his eyes steady, devoid of warmth. “We’re on a boat, Charlotte. You were here for two years. With me.”

The words hit like a gunshot, shattering my reality.

I stumbled back, my hand instinctively cradling my belly, the small bump a fragile anchor. “You…” My voice cracked, tears burning my eyes. “You kidnapped me? After I left Cassian two years ago, when I went to Atlanta to start over?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice devoid of remorse, a blade slicing through my trust.

My knees buckled, and I gripped the edge of a seat to stay upright. “And Elodie?” I whispered, my mind reeling, memories of Cassian’s sister. “You killed her?”

Ethan’s expression didn’t flicker. “I didn’t kill Elodie. She came to me with Cassian’s black card, trying to buy her way into answers. A snake bit her in the woods while she waited for me. I tried to save her, but she was gone before I could.”

“What a convenient lie,” I spat, my voice shaking with rage and betrayal. Tears streamed down my face, hot against my chilled skin. “You’re a murderer. You kidnapped me, killed his sister. Who are you, Ethan? What do you want?”

My legs trembled, the weight of his betrayal crushing me.

I’d trusted him, the boy I’d shielded from bullies in school, the one who’d promised to save me from Cassian’s cage.

Now, every instinct screamed that I’d made the greatest mistake of my life.

The eerie familiarity of the sea, the flashes of being thrown into water in my dreams—it was him. Ethan. The ghost haunting my fractured memories.

“Why?” I choked out, my voice raw, tears blurring my vision. “Why me?”

“Sit,” he said, his tone calm, almost gentle, but it carried a threat. “I’ll tell you.”

Exhaustion and fear dragged me down, and I sank into the seat, my body aching, my swollen legs throbbing.

The tracker bracelet glinted, my last tie to Cassian, and I thanked God I hadn’t told Ethan about it.

My dreams replayed—a masked man tossing me into a sea to drown. That was Ethan for sure.

Was he working for my father? For Luca? Or worse, for Artem, the Russian heir whose name sent shivers through the mafia world?

My cold returned, a bone-deep chill despite the chopper’s warmth, and I shivered, clutching my belly protectively.

Ethan stepped out, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts. I cursed myself for trusting him, for believing he was my salvation.

Every text, every promise—he’d played me, and I’d fallen for it, desperate to escape Cassian’s gilded prison. Now I was here, trapped on a boat in the middle of nowhere, with a man I no longer knew.

He returned, and I flinched, my heart leaping as I saw the syringe in his hand, its needle glinting like a promise of pain. “I made you lose a fraction of your memory,” he said, his voice clinical. “So you’d forget marrying Cassian. I planted you at your grandfather’s cabin, made sure you found his will—the one that gave you a way to claim your inheritance without the Morettis.”

My breath caught, the pieces of my shattered past clicking into place. “You knew about the underground competition all along,” I whispered, my voice trembling with panic. “You pretended to help me, but you orchestrated everything.”

“I didn’t pretend,” he said, leaning against the chopper’s console. “I was a graduate of the underground. Sent there at nineteen by my father. I won, Charlotte. Watched thirty-eight others die—brutally—in those trials.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “I would’ve died in the first stage if Cassian hadn’t saved me. And how the hell did you expect a female like me to even consider entering an all-male mafia underground competition?”

He shrugged, expression unreadable. “I gave you the chance to restart your life, to recode our destiny. You can’t blame me for the choices you make. I didn’t make them for you.”

My heart pounded, fear and fury warring inside me.

“You’re a mafia heir?” I asked, my voice shaking.

Ethan nodded, his eyes cold but not cruel. “Yes. But I’ve been taught to stay in the shadows. To watch. To wait.”

I clenched my fists. “And all this time… you’ve been manipulating me?”

Ethan didn’t answer directly.

He lifted the syringe, its contents catching the dim light like liquid fire. “I had Russian doctors erase parts of your memory,” he said, his voice calm, almost casual. “But this…” He let his gaze linger on me. “…this can bring it all back. Every memory, every truth. You’ll understand everything. It will finally make sense.”

I stared at the syringe, my pulse roaring in my ears.

He expected me to trust him, to let him inject me after everything he’d done? “You’re insane if you think I’ll let you touch me,” I said, my voice fierce despite my trembling. “I’m not just fighting for myself anymore. I’m fighting for my baby.”

Ethan’s eyes flicked to my belly, and I froze, terror gripping me.

Had he always known? “You raped me,” I said, my voice breaking, anger and fear colliding. “This baby—it’s yours, isn’t it?”

“No,” he said, setting the syringe down with deliberate care. “I tortured you, yes. Kept you on this boat, broke you down to keep you compliant. But rape? Never. If you take this injection, you’ll remember. You’ll know I didn’t touch you like that.”

I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. “You’re a liar. A monster.” But doubt crept in, insidious and sharp.

What if he was telling the truth? What if the baby wasn’t his? The DNA sample in my pocket burned against my thigh, a lifeline I couldn’t use here, not now.

“Where’s Cassian’s DNA sample?” Ethan asked, his voice low, as if he could read my thoughts.

I flinched, my hand twitching toward my pocket before I stopped myself. “Answer my question first,” I screamed, hating his calm, hating how it made me feel unhinged. “Why did you do this? Who’s behind it?”

He stepped closer, and I pressed myself against the seat, my heart racing. “You were a pawn, Charlotte,” he said, his voice soft but laced with steel. “A way to ruin Cassian, to break the Morettis. But you became more than that. I didn’t expect you to fight so hard, to survive.”