Bound By His Obsession

Damien Lancaster kept me for twelve years.

Everyone in his circle called me his pet. Beautiful, obedient, never making a fuss.

The women by his side changed constantly, but I was always there.

He didn't love me, but he was used to having me around. He even let me carry his triplet sons.

The moment they were born, they were sent overseas.

Then came that rainy night. I held a simple silver ring in my palm.

"Damien, I'm getting married. He knows I've had children. I just want a normal life."

He glanced at the ring and let out a quiet laugh. "That delivery guy?"

The next second, he tossed the ring into a pot of boiling coffee and pulled me into a fierce kiss.

"Who said you could leave me? You'll always be mine."

Vivian's POV

Damien kept me for twelve years.

Everyone in his circle called me his pet. Beautiful, obedient, never making a fuss.

The women by his side changed constantly, but I was always there.

Damien didn't like me. But he was used to having me around. He even let me bear his children.

I was pregnant with triplets and gave birth to three boys.

The moment they were born, they were sent abroad, raised by a top-tier childcare team.

I was the kind of mother who had to beg for permission to see her own children.

Everyone said that as long as I held on, I would become Mrs. Lancaster one day.

That evening, the Lancaster family hosted their first party of early winter.

Damien held his new flame in his arms, the famous actress Serena Sterling.

Serena was delicate. She'd barely made it through one round of socializing in her four-inch heels before she was already frowning, whining about her feet.

"Damien, my feet are killing me..."

Her voice was soft, sugary, and perfectly pitched to turn every head in the room.

Damien chuckled softly, but his gaze passed through the crowd and landed on me in the corner.

I stood there holding his backup suit.

"Vivian."

He called my name, his tone indifferent, as if summoning a servant.

I walked over with my eyes lowered. "Mr. Lancaster."

Damien pointed at Serena's feet, then glanced at mine.

"Take off your shoes. Give them to her."

The surrounding noise seemed to quiet in that instant.

Countless spectators turned their gazes on me.

Serena and I were about the same height, with the same shoe size.

Serena looked surprised, then covered her mouth and laughed. She looked very pleased with herself.

If I refused, I would publicly embarrass Damien.

If I complied, I would tear off my own dignity and lay it on the ground for people to trample.

But I didn't hesitate.

I bent down and quickly unfastened my shoes.

"Serena, these heels are only two inches, with sheepskin soles. They shouldn't hurt your feet."

I stood barefoot on the cold floor, crouched down, and considerately helped her put them on.

Serena stood up and turned in a circle, then linked her arm through Damien's with satisfaction.

"Damien spoils me the most."

From start to finish, Damien never looked at me once. He just pinched Serena's waist and praised me for being so sensible.

Then he led Serena to the dance floor.

I stood there alone, barefoot.

The cold crept up from the soles of my feet, drilling straight into my bones, making me shiver all over.

Others laughed without bothering to hide it.

"I heard Damien and Serena Sterling are getting married. This adopted girl's good days are probably over."

"What a good dog. The master says take off your shoes, and she takes them off without any complaint."

I lowered my head, looking at my reddened toes, and silently shrank back into the corner.

Actually, they got it wrong.

It wasn't that my good days were over.

It wasn't that I was about to be kicked out.

It was that I didn't want Damien anymore.

My hand slipped into my pocket, tightly gripping an ordinary ring.

It was from another man.

Even if the ending was bleak, I had to leave this lunatic Damien.

Vivian's POV

Damien seemed to be in a good mood.

After the party ended, he took a shower and sat lazily on the sofa, teasing his cat with a toy.

The ragdoll cat pounced around playfully, going crazy.

I was like that cat.

He'd been toying with me using money and power for twelve years.

I brought him a glass of water and set it by his hand.

My fingers were stiff from prolonged exposure to the cold.

Damien frowned.

"Damien."

I stood to the side with my hands at my sides, my voice soft but clear.

"I want to move out."

Damien's hand didn't stop teasing the cat. He didn't even lift an eyelid.

"Because of those shoes?

"Serena is a guest, and a big star. You wouldn't want to see her embarrassed, would you?

"Tomorrow I'll have my assistant take you to pick out some new ones."

His tone was casual. He didn't even lift an eyelid.

"It's not about the shoes."

I took out a ring and laid it open in my palm.

It was from Adrian Grant, bought with three months of his savings. It was everything he could give me.

"I'm getting married."

I looked at Damien's profile and said calmly.

"He doesn't mind that I've had children... I want to marry him and live a normal life."

The air froze for an instant.

The cat toy stopped at the cat's nose. The ragdoll let out a sharp cry.

Damien finally turned his head, his gaze falling on the ring.

Two seconds later, he laughed softly.

"Marriage? With that delivery guy?"

He knew, of course.

My whereabouts had never been a secret to him.

He stood up, walked over to me, and picked up the ring with two fingers in disgust.

"Vivian, have you lost your mind? Throwing away everything the Lancasters gave you to play house with some delivery guy?"

"Could his whole paycheck even buy you one sock?"

"No, but he treats me like a human being."

I stared into his eyes without backing down.

The smile faded from Damien's face. His eyes instantly turned sinister.

He released his hand.

The ring dropped into the boiling coffee pot beside him.

The scalding water churned. That tiny silver circle was instantly swallowed by the murky coffee.

"If you want to debase yourself, suit yourself."

Damien pulled out a tissue and methodically wiped the fingers that had just touched the ring, as if they'd been contaminated by something filthy.

"You can leave if you want. Get out right now."

"But Vivian, have you forgotten something?"

He casually picked up a tablet, opened a video call, and tossed it on the coffee table.

On the screen were three identical little boys wrestling around a castle of building blocks.

Those were my sons.

Damien bent down, waved at the children on the screen, and a cruel smile curved his lips.

"Say goodbye to Mommy."

"She thinks you're a burden and is running off with another man. From now on, you won't have a mother anymore."

Vivian's POV

The three children on the screen froze.

They were only four years old. They didn't understand what "another man" meant, but they understood "won't have a mother anymore."

The oldest pursed his lips. The building blocks in his hands fell to the floor. He burst into loud tears.

Then the second, then the third.

Their heartrending cries came through the speaker like a saw cutting through my nerves.

I instinctively lunged forward to grab the tablet.

But Damien was faster.

His slender fingers tapped lightly and ended the video call.

The crying stopped abruptly.

Damien crossed his legs and looked leisurely at my hand frozen in midair.

"Does it hurt now?"

He lit a cigarette. The blue-white smoke blurred his cold eyes.

"Vivian, you can't be too greedy. You want so-called true love and you want the Lancaster children too? Where does that exist?"

I bit my lip hard until I tasted the metallic tang of blood.

I knew he was forcing me.

He was waiting for me to kneel and beg him like before, or cry and say I wouldn't leave.

But this time, Adrian Grant's eyes-bloodshot yet still determined-floated into my mind.

He said, "Vivian, don't look back."

I took a deep breath, withdrew my hand, and even managed an ugly smile.

"You're right, Damien. If I don't want them, then I'll cut ties completely."

With that, I turned and headed upstairs.

Behind me came the sound of a glass being violently smashed.

But I didn't stop.

News traveled fast.

Early the next morning, Damien's mother arrived.

The elegant lady who usually only appeared at charity galas was now sitting on my bed, earnestly holding my hand.

"Vivian, you're being foolish."

She sighed, her well-maintained face full of disapproval.

"The Lancaster family raised you. Without the Lancaster family's money, you would have starved to death in the orphanage long ago.

"Damien is playful, yes, but which of those women around him can surpass you? The three grandsons are the heirs of the Lancaster family. You're their biological mother. As long as you're obedient, who else could be Mrs. Lancaster besides you?"

I'd heard these words at the Lancaster house for twelve years.

Like invisible threads, they'd sewn me into a puppet of the Lancaster family.

"I'm done waiting."

I pulled out a red piece of cardstock from under my pillow.

It was a hand-drawn wedding invitation from Adrian Grant. The paper was ordinary, but the letters were cut neatly and carefully.

"Next month on the fifth, I hope you can attend my wedding."

Mrs. Lancaster's expression darkened instantly. The hand holding mine withdrew sharply.

"You're humiliating the Lancaster family!"

"Who gave you the right to think the Lancaster family would attend such a shabby wedding?"

A mocking voice came from the doorway.

Damien leaned against the doorframe, still reeking of last night's alcohol.

He strode in and snatched the invitation from my hand.

With just one glance, the disgust in his eyes deepened.

"This handwriting is really ugly."

"Adrian wrote every word himself."

I tried to grab it back, but he pressed down on my shoulder with one hand, rendering me immobile.

Damien sneered.

The red cardstock tore in half in his hands.

"If you're going to leave, don't bring this trash into the Lancaster house."

Damien pointed at the door, his eyes cold.

"Except for the bones in your body, you're not allowed to take anything that belongs to the Lancaster family."

Vivian's POV

Mrs. Lancaster beside him picked up her coffee cup and took a delicate sip.

"You want to leave?"

Damien suddenly laughed.

"Vivian, have you forgotten that the Lancaster family paid to raise you? Without the Lancaster family's money, you wouldn't exist."

"Since you want to settle accounts, let's do it by contract."

A faint smile curved Damien's lips, but his eyes were ice cold.

"After supporting you all this time, you should at least leave some breach-of-contract penalty before you go."

I didn't understand what he meant.

But I soon found out.

The next evening, the butler brought me a revealing outfit and told me to put it on.

Then I was sent to a club. He said Mr. Warren was waiting for me.

My heart instantly sank.

Mr. Warren was notorious in their circle-vile and crude. Many girls had ended up in the hospital because of him.

Before, with Damien protecting me, no one dared touch me.

Now, he was personally delivering me.

He was doing this on purpose.

When I pushed open the door, Damien had his arm around Serena.

He saw me enter but didn't even lift an eyelid.

Mr. Warren's eyes lit up when he saw me. His greasy gaze stuck to my exposed back.

"Is this the canary Damien kept? Truly a beauty."

Mr. Warren walked over with two full glasses of hard liquor, practically shoving them in my face.

"Since Damien is willing to part with you, we'd better drink properly tonight."

I instinctively looked at Damien.

He was lowering his head to light Serena's cigarette. The flame illuminated his cold profile as if everything happening here had nothing to do with him.

As if I was about to be devoured alive by this pig in the next second.

I gave up hope.

I took the harsh liquor and tilted my head back to down it.

My stomach burned painfully, but compared to the chill in my heart, it was nothing.

"Good! Bold!"

Mr. Warren's hand slid to my waist, his damp palm moving under the fabric, the implication clear.

"Vivian, you drank that fast. In a hurry, are we?"

Laughter erupted around us.

Someone egged him on. "Mr. Warren, you're getting handsy already? Aren't you afraid Damien will mind?"

Damien finally looked up.

He played with a metal lighter in his hand and glanced at me with a half-smile.

"Mind what? If she doesn't want to be part of the Lancaster family, she's just a call girl.

"As long as Mr. Warren's happy, do whatever you want with her."

That sentence was the final blow to my dignity.

Mr. Warren completely lost his reservations. His fat hand began forcefully pulling at my straps.

Riiip.

The sound of tearing fabric was especially harsh in the private room.

I struggled desperately, but Mr. Warren pinned me down on the sofa. His alcohol-soaked breath sprayed on my face, making me want to vomit.

"Playing innocent? Damien already gave the word. You really think you're still that high-and-mighty Miss Vivian?"

Despair swallowed me like a flood.

Just as that filthy hand was about to touch my chest, I grabbed the ashtray from the table and smashed it down hard.

Crash!

Blood splattered.

Mr. Warren screamed and rolled to the floor clutching his head.

The private room fell deathly silent.

Everyone was stunned. Only Damien sat there and laughed softly.

His laughter was chilling, making one's hair stand on end.

He stood up, kicked aside the still-wailing Mr. Warren, and walked over to me, stepping on the broken glass.

He gripped my chin and forced me to look up at him.

"Is this the freedom you wanted?"

"Without me, you don't even have the right to be someone's accessory."

Vivian's POV

I looked at Mr. Warren clutching his bleeding head. He was completely dazed.

But he was shrewd enough to survive in this circle. Even though he was in excruciating pain, he didn't dare curse at Damien.

He just stared fearfully at the man still holding half a bottle, his voice trembling.

"D-Damien, didn't you say... I could do whatever I wanted..."

"Yes, I did say that."

Damien dropped the glass fragments and accepted a handkerchief from a bodyguard, methodically wiping his fingertips that hadn't even gotten dirty.

He even smiled slightly, his tone as gentle as chatting with an old friend.

"But I didn't say you could break my property."

He walked up to Mr. Warren and looked down at that greasy face.

"The Lancaster family spent a fortune packaging her. You made her cry. How should we settle this account?"

Mr. Warren's face turned ashen.

I could see he understood.

"I'll pay! I'll compensate! Damien, please spare me..."

Damien didn't look at him again. He simply waved his hand lightly.

Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward and silently dragged the still-pleading Mr. Warren out.

Mr. Warren struggled and screamed.

The private room fell silent.

Damien turned around, his gaze falling on me.

I huddled miserably in the corner, disheveled and trembling all over.

He walked over and reached for the ashtray in my hand.

I instinctively flinched.

"What? Going to hit me too?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"That was a decent fight just now. Shows some Lancaster ruthlessness."

"But have you gotten one thing wrong?"

He forcibly pried open my fingers and threw the ashtray into the trash.

He reached out to smooth my disheveled hair. His movements were gentle yet carried a careless cruelty.

His fingertips were ice cold, sliding across my collarbone, causing a shiver.

"My possessions-only I can discipline them.

"When others touch them even once, they pay a price.

"But that doesn't mean you can resist me."

He chuckled softly, his fingertip brushing the corner of my mouth that was still bleeding.

"Besides me, who else would treasure you like this?"

Seeing me bite my lip without speaking, the smile in his eyes faded a bit.

He glanced at the hard liquor on the table, his tone eerie.

"Drink all of these, and I'll forgive your ignorance today."

"Remember, every sip you drink, every penny you spend, belongs to the Lancaster family."

"If you want to leave, settle this account first."

I looked at him.

He sat on the sofa, watching me leisurely. Serena nestled in his arms, also watching me quietly with amusement in her eyes.

He was serious.

Unless I was dead, I couldn't walk out that door.

"Fine."

Without hesitation, I grabbed a bottle and tilted my head back to pour it down my throat.

The first bottle.

The second bottle.

The harsh liquid burned my esophagus. My stomach churned violently.

I rushed to the bathroom and vomited until I was dizzy. Bile mixed with blood streaks poured out.

But I wiped my mouth, supported myself against the wall, walked back out, and picked up the third bottle.

Damien sat there the whole time. Through the smoke, his expression was dark and unreadable.

Until I picked up the fifth bottle. My hands shook so badly I couldn't hold it. Liquor spilled all over me.

Crash.

I couldn't hold the bottle. It fell to the floor and shattered.

I knelt on the ground, trying to pick up the glass shards still dripping with liquor, wanting to clean them up.

A shoe stepped on my hand.

Damien looked down at me, not a trace of anger on his face. His voice maintained that suffocating calm.

"Vivian, you'll be a Lancaster family asset for the rest of your life."

He crouched down to look at me, his eyes a barren wasteland of indifference.

"If you drink yourself to death, what will you use to pay your debt?"

"Someone, take her back."

He stood up, his tone light. "If she dies here, the children won't have a mother anymore."

At the mention of the children, I stiffened.

He looked with satisfaction at the fear in my eyes and stood up.

"Take her back."

He turned and walked out, his back straight and cold.

"If she's not dead, keep her locked up."

"When she's healed, we'll settle accounts slowly."

Vivian's POV

I was carried back to the villa by bodyguards.

My stomach still burned. My throat was full of that metallic taste.

Damien was using disinfectant wipes to clean each finger.

As if the person who'd just forced me to drink until I vomited in that private room wasn't him.

"Sobered up?"

His gaze swept over my disheveled appearance and finally stopped at my long hair.

He used to love my long hair the most.

Every month he took me for treatments. Even the shampoo was imported.

He often said this hair felt like silk and had a nice texture.

"Since you're not dead, let's continue settling accounts."

"You can take those shabby clothes, but anything that belongs to the Lancaster family must stay."

I stood there. The alcohol made my head fuzzy, but I understood what he meant.

I lowered my head and began removing my earrings, necklace, and bracelets.

Finally, I wore only a thin camisole.

"What else?"

Damien didn't tell me to stop.

He walked up to me, his slender fingers winding around a lock of hair.

"This hair, this skin-which part wasn't bought with my money?"

He leaned close to me, his tone so gentle it was terrifying.

"Vivian, if you want to make a clean break, do it properly."

"Taking things I paid to maintain to that man-it makes me sick."

He turned around and took a paper cutter from the drawer under the coffee table.

He threw the blade at my feet.

"Cut it all off cleanly, and I'll let you get lost."

I looked at the blade, then at Damien's emotionless eyes.

He was betting I would kneel and beg him.

But I bent down and picked up the blade.

Without any hesitation.

The blade pressed against the roots of my hair, ice cold and bone-chilling.

Black strands fell to the floor in large clumps.

I hacked away carelessly. The blade cut my scalp. Blood beads seeped out, but I couldn't feel the pain.

I saw the expression on Damien's face finally crack.

He stared at the severed hair on the floor, the hair he'd carefully maintained for twelve years.

"Enough!"

Just as I was about to cut the last strand, he seized my wrist fiercely.

He looked at my hacked-off hair, a towering rage surging in his eyes.

It was the rage of a man whose favorite possession had been ruined.

"You told me to cut it."

I looked at him, my voice hoarse and calm.

"Damien, is it clean enough now?"

"Can I leave?"

Damien was silent for a moment.

Then he sneered and flung my hand away.

His voice was sinister.

"Get out now!"

I didn't linger at all.

I casually threw on an old coat and pushed open the door.

Barefoot, I walked into that cold winter night without looking back.

Damien, loving you was my biggest mistake.