Rael had always thought he was the storm.
But now, he lived inside one.
Ananya had changed — not gradually, not subtly, but like a wildfire leaping from spark to forest. She was everywhere. In his phone. In his office. In his mind.
She had become him.
---
One afternoon, he arrived home to find every photograph in the mansion turned upside down.
"I didn't like the way those women looked at you," Ananya said from the stairs, her voice eerily calm.
"They're just old clients," Rael replied.
She descended slowly, barefoot, wearing his shirt like a claim.
"I'm your only client now."
He narrowed his eyes. "That's not how this works."
Her lips curved. "That's how it works now."
---
Rael tried to push back.
He locked his study. She had the locks changed.
He blocked her from his business email. She hacked into it and sent herself daily updates.
He told her not to interfere with his staff. One of his interns mysteriously quit after Ananya followed her to her car and whispered something no one else heard.
He began to feel it — the fear. The same fear Ananya once carried.
---
One night, Rael came home late.
A dinner with investors had run long.
The lights were off. The mansion, silent.
He stepped inside cautiously.
Candles flickered to life.
And there she was.
In the center of the room, in red, holding a glass of wine.
"You didn't call," she said sweetly.
"I was busy," he replied, trying not to betray the unease rising in his chest.
She stepped closer.
"You see, darling," she said, placing her hand over his chest, "I used to be scared of losing you. But now? Now I'm scared of what I might do if I ever do."
Rael's breath hitched.
"Are you threatening me?"
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Not yet."
---
That night, Rael couldn't sleep. He lay awake beside her, staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing.
He had taken her from the world. Now she was taking his world from him.
And she was doing it with a calm, cruel elegance that terrified him.
For the first time, Rael Valtor realized:
He was no longer the monster in this story. He had created something darker.
And it slept beside him.
The chandelier above Rael's dining room glowed a sickening shade of gold. The wine in his glass had long gone warm, untouched. Ananya sat across from him, legs folded neatly beneath the table, dressed in black silk that clung to her body like the shadows that had taken root in her soul.
They hadn't spoken for ten minutes.
Rael didn't know whether to break the silence or savor it. Silence used to be his weapon. Now, it was hers.
"You left the office late again," she said softly, her voice so calm it sent chills down his spine.
"I had meetings," Rael replied, not looking up.
"With who?" she asked.
He met her eyes — and regretted it.
There was no softness in them anymore. No curiosity. Just possession. Pure, rabid, unyielding possession.
---
It hadn't always been like this.
At first, after their twisted marriage, Ananya had seemed withdrawn. Silent. Hollowed out. Rael had interpreted it as shock — something she would either overcome or succumb to.
But he underestimated her. Again.
She didn't break.
She sharpened.
She studied him — like a chess master studying a rival. And slowly, she flipped the board.
---
It began with her presence.
Always around. Always watching.
Rael would walk into his study at 2 AM to find her seated in the leather chair, reading one of his case files. Or lying across the bed with his laptop open, his calendar minimized, call logs pulled up.
At first, he tried to reestablish boundaries.
She tore them down with a smile.
When he changed the door locks, she hired someone to change them again. When he changed passwords, she hacked into them. One of his staff told him, jokingly, that "Mrs. Valtor" had called three times that week to ask about a meeting — one he hadn't even told her about.
He didn't confront her.
He observed.
And for the first time in his calculated, powerful life… Rael began to feel the cold fingers of fear around his neck.
---
One night, she appeared at his office without warning.
"Dinner," she said.
He was in the middle of a client session.
She waited outside the door.
When he came out twenty minutes later, she stood there with a smile — holding takeout boxes and a knife.
Not threatening.
Just holding.
Like it was natural.
"You didn't answer my calls," she said.
"I was working."
"I'm your work now," she replied.
And he didn't argue.
Because arguing with her felt like stepping into quicksand — slow at first, and then all-consuming.
---
What disturbed Rael the most wasn't her intrusion.
It was how easily she became everything he once was.
She was charming to his clients when needed.
Terrifying to his staff when challenged.
Seductive to him when she wanted something.
And cruel — impossibly cruel — when she didn't get it.
He found her one morning sitting at his desk, having torn apart a letter from a female business associate.
"She said you had soft eyes," Ananya murmured. "Do you think they're soft when I stab them?"
Rael took the paper from her slowly.
"You're scaring me," he said.
She smiled. "Then we're even."
---
She started following him.
Not subtly.
She'd show up at restaurants uninvited.
Wait outside his gym.
Even shadow his car in the mirror — always one vehicle behind.
Once, she appeared inside a bar he'd entered with a client, and simply stared at him the entire evening without saying a word.
He didn't know how she got in.
Didn't know how long she'd been watching.
Didn't ask.
Because he already knew the answer:
She was no longer afraid of being controlled.
She had become the one in control.
---
The breakdown came on a Thursday night.
Rael had come home late — intentionally. He needed space. Silence. A moment to breathe.
But Ananya was already waiting, seated cross-legged on the cold floor of his bedroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
"You were with someone," she said.
"No."
She turned to him slowly, like a doll possessed. "Don't lie."
"I'm not."
Her fingers reached for something on the floor — his cufflink, stained with lipstick. Not hers.
"I think," she whispered, "I'll have to remind you who you belong to."
Rael tried to walk away.
But she was faster.
She pinned him against the wall — not with strength, but with rage. Her hands gripped his jaw, her lips inches from his.
"I will destroy anything that touches you," she said. "You wanted a monster, Rael. You made one. Now look at me."
And he did.
And he saw himself — reflected in her madness.
---
That night, he couldn't sleep.
He lay beside her, frozen. Her breath was soft, even. But her fingers curled in her sleep like claws.
He thought of calling someone — a friend, a lawyer, the police.
But what would he say?
That his captive wife had become his captor?
That the girl he broke had rebuilt herself from shards and now held the knife?
No one would believe him.
And even if they did… he wasn't sure he wanted to be saved.
Because beneath the fear, beneath the confusion, lay something darker:
He was still drawn to her.
Still addicted.
Still bound.
---
In the morning, she served him tea.
He took the cup without a word.
She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
Then whispered: "You belong to me, Rael. Body, mind, and ruin."
He sipped the tea.
And wondered if it was poisoned.
Not that it mattered.
Because if it was… he would drink it anyway.