When I was a child, I laughed at the boy with the broken tooth. Who knew he'd grow up to break so much more of me? He calls it love, but love doesn’t leave bruises. Love doesn’t force you to stay.

*****

The world blurred as the sharp thud of pain struck Heidi’s head. A wave of dizziness took over her, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. She could hear faint voices echoing around her like distant whispers—too distant to reach. Before everything faded to black, one voice, clear and cold, reached her ears: “She’ll wake up to find herself engaged to me.”

It was the last thing she heard before darkness claimed her completely.

Heidi slowly regained consciousness, but the air felt different, colder, as though she were waking up from a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. Her vision was blurry at first, and her head throbbed with a painful pulse, but there was something unfamiliar... a weight on her finger.

She blinked, trying to focus, but when her eyes landed on the object causing the sensation, her stomach sank. A ring. Not just any ring—but a symbol of something far darker. Something that shouldn't have existed.

Her hand instinctively went to her head, where the pain still lingered. Her heart began to race.

What... happened?

Her breath hitched as memories tried to surface through the haze: the voices, the laughter, the feeling of someone taking control. Her mother’s voice, Silas’s voice, both blending into one. But one thing was certain: she had no memory of agreeing to this.

The weight of the ring was suffocating.

The memory of Silas came back in fragments. The broken tooth, his awkward smile, and how she, a young Heidi, had laughed at him. She had thought nothing of it back then. She was a child, naive and carefree, never considering the consequences of her words.

Heidi could still remember that day like it was yesterday. She was nine years old when she first met him—Silas Floyd. His mother and Heidi’s mother were childhood friends, and their reunion was filled with laughter, shared stories, and exchanges of contact numbers. But for Heidi, the most vivid memory was of Silas. Despite his broken tooth, there was a warmth in his eyes that drew her in, and for some reason, she found it amusing to tease him. At that age, Heidi didn’t care for the concept of friendships or what they meant, but Silas was always kind to her, always seeking her company.

Heidi never thought she'd see him again.

But then... they did.

Years later, they had reunited in a park. Heidi was a little older, a little more mature, yet still carrying that air of arrogance she’d inherited from her beauty and charm. Silas, on the other hand, had changed. No longer the awkward boy she remembered, he had grown into someone more confident, stronger, his broken tooth now a distant memory.

But it was his eyes that caught her attention. They were still kind, but there was something else behind them now—something deeper.

They spent the afternoon together, laughing, playing, sharing small moments that brought them back to the past. Their mothers were busy talking, sharing their lives, while Silas and Heidi slowly rebuilt the bond they once had.

But Heidi could never have predicted that a simple childhood connection would evolve into this. Her thoughts now echoed back to that innocent time. But now, everything felt different. The weight of her ring pressed against her skin like a reminder of how far things had gone.

The moment Silas appeared in front of her, standing tall, no longer the boy she used to mock, but a man, the truth hit Heidi like a thunderstorm.

Her parents—her calm, collected parents—had decided for her. They had agreed. She had been handed away as if her opinion didn’t matter. Silas had persisted, and Heidi had rejected him, but that hadn’t stopped him.

Now, she was trapped.

-----

Heidi's vision was a haze of muted colors and swirling shadows as she blinked slowly, trying to piece together where she was. The cold, unyielding floor beneath her cheek grounded her to reality, but the sharp, throbbing pain in her head threatened to pull her back into unconsciousness. Her body felt heavy, unresponsive, and her breaths came in shallow, labored gasps.

Her hand, limp and outstretched, caught her attention. Through the blurriness of her tears, she focused on it—on the delicate curve of her fingers and the small glint of something foreign and unwelcome. There it was, shining faintly under the dim light: the ring.

Her heart twisted as recognition sank in. The same ring she had rejected time and time again now encircled her finger—a silent declaration she had never agreed to. A symbol of possession, not love. A tear slid down her cheek, warm and sticky as it mixed with the blood trickling from the wound on her head.

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed ominously through the room, each step deliberate and heavy, sending a jolt of dread through her weakened body. Her blurry gaze followed the sound until a pair of polished black shoes came into view, stopping just in front of her. She wanted to recoil, to pull herself away, but her body refused to move.

Forcing her head to tilt up, she blinked through the haze until the figure towering over her came into focus. Silas. His face, sharp and emotionless, was framed by the light behind him, making him appear like a shadowed figure of authority and menace. There was no regret in his expression, no flicker of guilt in his eyes. Instead, there was something far worse—satisfaction.

Her lips parted, but no words came out, only a faint wheeze. The effort to speak was too much.

Silas’s gaze dropped to her bleeding forehead, then back to her eyes, his expression cold yet calculating. Slowly, he lowered himself to one knee, his movements calm and deliberate, as though savoring the moment. His face was close now, close enough that she could see the faint tremor in his hands and the subtle rise and fall of his chest. His heart was racing—not with panic or concern, but with excitement.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and even, as though nothing about this situation was out of the ordinary. His hand reached out, brushing a stray lock of blood-matted hair from her face. Heidi flinched weakly at his touch, but she lacked the strength to push him away.

“Did you…” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “Did you do this?”

Silas’s lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He didn’t answer her question directly; he didn’t need to. The glint in his eyes said enough. Instead, his gaze flicked to the ring on her finger, and his smile grew a fraction wider.

“It suits you,” he said softly, almost reverently. His fingers trailed down to her hand, his thumb brushing over the ring as though sealing his claim. “You’ll understand soon, Heidi. This… this is how it was always meant to be.”

Her body trembled as anger, fear, and helplessness swirled inside her. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but the sharp ache in her head kept her pinned to the floor, her strength drained.

Silas, undeterred by her silence, leaned closer until she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. His voice dropped to a whisper, each word deliberate and chilling.

“You’re mine now, Heidi. Finally.”

The tears came harder now, burning as they streaked down her bloodied face. Her breaths grew shakier as the weight of the moment settled over her like a suffocating blanket. The ring felt heavier than ever, a cruel reminder of the cage she had been forced into.

As Silas stood, his hand lingered on her for a moment longer before he pulled away, his expression softening just slightly as he looked down at her fragile form. He exhaled deeply, as though content.

But for Heidi, the nightmare was only beginning.

Silas’s thumb brushed over the burn mark on his wrist, the scar a silent reminder of the beginning of everything. His gaze softened as he stared at it, an odd tenderness in his eyes, before his attention shifted back to Heidi. Her limp body lay crumpled on the floor, her breaths shallow, and her head tilted slightly to the side, her face pale and stained with a thin streak of blood.

His hands trembled as worry clouded his expression. Dropping to his knees, Silas scooped her into his lap with ease, his arms cradling her delicate form as if she might vanish if he let go. "Heidi," he murmured, his voice cracking with desperation as he gently grabbed her jaw, trying to rouse her. She didn’t stir, her body unresponsive, and panic flared in his chest.

Tightening his hold, he hugged her close, burying his face in her hair. "Don’t die on me," he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with an ache he rarely allowed himself to show. His gaze drifted to her pale hand in his grip, and his breath hitched when he noticed it—the burn mark.

His chest tightened, his memories spiraling back to where it all began. That mark had bound them together, had ignited something inside him he couldn’t explain. A tear slid down his cheek as he turned her hand over, pressing a reverent kiss to the burn. It was more than just a scar; it was a connection, a reminder of the first seed of love that had grown into an obsession.

Behind him, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the fragile silence. Silas glanced over his shoulder to see his mother, Morgan, entering the room, followed closely by Heidi’s parents, their faces etched with panic and worry. They froze for a moment, exchanging anxious glances, before Heidi’s father hurried to call an ambulance.

The sound of sirens cut through the heavy silence, and moments later, paramedics burst into the room. Silas reluctantly relinquished Heidi to their care, his hands bloodied and trembling as they placed her on the stretcher. He followed closely as they wheeled her out, his mother at his side, her sharp gaze scanning the growing crowd outside the home.

-----

The waiting room buzzed with tension. The news of Heidi Quinn’s injury had spread like wildfire. Outside, cameras flashed as reporters jostled for a clear shot of the hospital entrance. Fans had gathered at the gates, some clutching banners with Heidi’s face, while others wept openly, praying for their idol’s recovery.

Morgan pulled Silas quickly to the side, her expression a mixture of fury and fear. “Silas,” she hissed under her breath, leaning close so only he could hear, “why did you hit her so hard? Are you trying to kill her?”

Silas didn’t flinch under her scolding. His hand moved to adjust the watch on his wrist as he responded with cold precision. “Do you really think I’d kill her, Mother? Do you think I could survive a single day without her existence?” His tone was calm, almost detached, but the fire in his eyes betrayed the storm brewing beneath. “It… just happened,” he admitted, his voice softening slightly. “She was resisting the ring. I had to make sure she wouldn’t anymore.”

Morgan’s jaw tightened as she glanced over at Heidi’s parents, who sat nearby with expressions of raw worry. She turned back to her son, her voice low and sharp. “Listen to me, Silas. I don’t want any problems. If Heidi wakes up, throws that damn ring away, and rejects this marriage, I’ll kill you myself. Do you understand?”

Silas exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t worry,” he said simply, his gaze trailing back to Heidi’s unconscious form. “It won’t happen. Look at Aunt and Uncle,” he added, nodding toward her parents. “They’re deeply religious. To them, the engagement is as good as a marriage. They won’t let her walk away from this.”

Morgan studied his face for a moment before sighing, stepping back to lean against the wall. Her tension didn’t ease, though, and her sharp eyes scanned the room as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed again. A group of people stormed in, their anxious faces betraying their concern for Heidi. They were her close friends, each looking equally distressed.

Morgan’s sharp gaze caught on one man in particular, her brow furrowing slightly. She nudged Silas, gesturing subtly toward him. “Smith,” she murmured, her tone pointed. Silas followed her gaze and immediately recognized him. Smith, the man who had chased after Heidi for years, held onto the hope of winning her over, even after she had firmly turned him down. Silas’s jaw clenched slightly.

With a measured calm, Silas walked over to Smith, placing a hand on his shoulder in what appeared to be a friendly gesture. Smith turned, his face riddled with worry, his voice trembling as he asked, “What happened? How could this—what did the doctor say?”

Silas’s expression unreadable as he placed a hand on Smith’s shoulder. “The doctors haven’t come out yet,” he said calmly, his voice betraying no hint of the storm raging inside him. “We’re still waiting.”

Smith frowned, his worry deepening. “How could this happen? Heidi was fine just yesterday. Did she—” He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Did she fall? Did someone… hurt her?”

Silas’s grip on Smith’s shoulder tightened imperceptibly, his gaze sharpening. “Let’s wait for the doctors,” he said, his tone final. “Speculating won’t help her.”

Behind him, Morgan, her arms crossed as she watched the exchange. Her sharp eyes darted between Smith and her son, her lips pressing into a thin line as she leaned closer to Silas when Smith stepped away. “Keep an eye on him,” she murmured. “Heidi’s always been too kind to him, and I don’t trust this man.”

Silas nodded slightly, his attention already shifting back to the closed doors of the operating room. His hands curled into fists at his sides as the minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. The weight of the media, the fans, her friends, and her parents bore down on him, but his focus remained on Heidi.

Finally, the doctor emerged, his expression grave. Everyone surged forward, bombarding him with questions, but Silas stayed rooted to his spot, his eyes narrowing as he waited for the verdict.

“She’s stable,” the doctor said finally, raising a hand to quiet the frantic crowd. “But the injury to her head was severe. She’s unconscious for now, and it’s unclear how long her recovery will take.”

Relief washed over the room, but for Silas, it wasn’t enough. He turned away from the group, his jaw tightening as he stared out the window at the flashing cameras. This wasn’t over. Not yet.

-----

The hallway outside Heidi’s room was eerily quiet. Silas stood by the door, his hand resting on the frame as he watched her through the small window. Tubes and monitors surrounded her, their steady beeping the only indication that she was still alive. She looked fragile, her pale face framed by her long black hair, and for a moment, Silas’s chest tightened. He had done this. The thought was fleeting, though, swallowed by the darker, more possessive part of him that whispered she was his now—fully, completely.

“She’s going to hate you when she wakes up.”

Morgan’s voice broke the silence, low and sharp as she came up behind him. Silas didn’t turn around. He kept his eyes on Heidi, his jaw tightening. “She won’t,” he said firmly. “She’s already mine.”

Morgan crossed her arms, leaning against the wall beside him. “You sound delusional. Look at her parents—they’re already starting to ask questions. And that Smith boy? He’s not going to back down either.”

At the mention of Smith, Silas’s expression darkened. His hand curled into a fist against the doorframe. “Smith is irrelevant,” he said coldly. “Heidi doesn’t belong to him. She never has.”

Morgan scoffed softly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Right. Because nothing says love like knocking someone unconscious and forcing a ring on their finger.”

Silas turned to her then, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t lecture me, Mother. You’re the one who taught me that power is everything. That you have to take what you want before someone else does. I’m just following your example.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Fair point,” she admitted. “But power means nothing if you don’t play your cards right. Heidi’s a public figure—a famous model. You think the media won’t dig into this? You think her fans won’t turn against you if they find out what really happened?”

Silas’s expression didn’t falter. “They won’t find out,” he said simply. “And even if they do, it won’t matter. Heidi will stay with me. She’ll have no choice.”

Morgan studied him for a moment, then shook her head with a sigh. “Just don’t screw this up, Silas. You’ve already set this mess in motion. If you can’t keep control of her—of everything—you’ll lose more than just her.”

Silas didn’t respond. Morgan walked away, leaving him alone. Silas watched over Heidi, the sterile, white walls of the room are a sharp contrast to the chaos in his mind. Every beep of the monitor felt like a countdown, not to her recovery, but to the moment she might wake up and defy him again. The memory of her throwing the engagement ring at him was burned into his mind as deeply as the mark on her hand. That mark—that shared pain—was the first thing that bound them, and he couldn’t let her forget it.

He pushed the door open, his fingers gripping his opposite wrist as he stepped inside. Moving to her side, he let his hand glide along the edge of the blanket, his eyes anchored to her serene, unconscious face. She looked vulnerable, untouchable, and it made his heart twist with equal parts tenderness and possession. "You’ll understand one day," he whispered, more to himself than to her. "You’ll see that no one can love you like I do. Not Smith, not anyone."

The sound of muffled voices outside the room drew his attention. Silas turned to see Heidi's friends, Smith among them, huddle just beyond the glass. The sight of Smith's concerned face twisted something dark inside him. How dare he pretend to care for her, to stand there acting like he had a claim on her heart?

Silas adjusted his cuffs and strode out of the room, a forced smile plastered on his face as he approached the group. "Thank you all for coming," he said smoothly, his voice warm but carrying an edge that dared anyone to cross him. His eyes settled on Smith, cold and calculating. "Heidi will be touched to know you're here. But I think it’s best if she rests without too much commotion."

Smith frowned, his jaw tightening. "She’s our friend, Silas. We’re here for her."

"Of course, you are," Silas replied, his smile sharpening into something predatory. "But you know how the media gets. Crowds tend to... complicate things. And Heidi doesn’t need complications right now."

The unspoken warning hung heavy in the air. Smith's fists clenched, but he said nothing as Silas turned back toward the room, his heart pounding with satisfaction. Let them stay out there and fret. Heidi was his fiancée now, in name if not in spirit, and he’d make sure she stayed that way—one way or another.

*****