Chapter 4
Graham
I’ve always been peculiar.
I don’t remember a single day in my life where I was what society considers “normal.” They say that I lack empathy. That I don’t appreciate the innate human nature of kindness, or of love. But the truth is, I don’t think I’ve ever cared about anything more than my own desires.
I’m selfish. I’m manipulative. It’s me before the world. Always.
When I watch people weep over another person’s pain, all I feel is confusion. I can logically understand the concept of sadness, but it doesn’t cling to me. At all.
Fixation is what plagues me instead. Everything in the universe looks entirely grey in my eyes, failing to catch even a fraction of my interest. I spend my days looking, and looking, and looking.
Searching desperately for that something—that someone—who will bring a little light into my monotone existence.
And when I find it? I trap it. I fixate on it.
Every morning, I eat the exact same breakfast: salmon and avocado on plain toast, finished with lemon and a balsamic vinegar glaze.
It is all I have eaten for eleven years straight.
I have another staple for lunch, and another fixed choice for dinner.
Because when I finally discover something that brings me even a sliver of that light I so desperately crave, I never let it go. Ever.
A lot of men in my high-society circle tell me that whatever the fuck is wrong with my head is exactly what they wish they had. They want to be emotionless bastards. To be cold. To be expert manipulators who can bend the world to their will with the flick of a finger.
But what they don’t know is that I envy them. I fucking envy them so much it makes me want to gut them alive.
Because a life with nothing to feel gets boring quickly. Rotating through a limited, pathetic set of emotions for years on end is a special kind of hell. Envy. Irritation. Anger. Drive. That’s. All. I. Feel.
I want more. More.
I want whatever those undeserving fuckers have.
When they laugh with their women by their sides, when they dance with them, when they get the sudden urge to kiss them.
The mere thought of kissing anyone usually makes me want to puke.
What’s the good in swapping spit and drool?
But here’s the catch: I want to want it.
So bad it makes me want to burn the whole world to ashes.
I want to be interested in someone enough to want to possess them. To own them. For them to be mine. For them to add color to my life, to make me feel... anything.
But no one I’ve ever come across made me feel a damn thing.
Until her.
It happened exactly three months ago. I was sitting at a corner table in some low-end restaurant I had absolutely no business being in, and she was the one who served my table. I doubt she even remembers it. She didn't look at my face once; she kept her eyes glued to her notepad.
For the first time in my life, the suffocating greyness in my mind turned hazy.
I started frequenting that pathetic place just to look at her.
I left massive cash tips on the table—hundreds, sometimes thousands—just to see what she would do with it.
Instead of pocketing the money to save herself, she split every single cent evenly with the other waiters.
She barely even glanced in my direction, treating me like just another nameless face in an expensive suit.
I know women like her well. She had a spine. And to break a woman with a spine, I needed to be smart. So, I changed the game. I found her sister, Valeria.
Valeria was easy. She was vain, greedy, and completely hollow. I orchestrated a meeting with her at the club where she hostessed, and within weeks, I gave her exactly what a woman like her starves for. A ring. A Porsche. Endless diamonds. But all of it came with an ironclad, airtight prenup.
If I had approached Maya directly, her pride would have made her run, and I had absolutely no intention of chasing her across the city. I wanted her where I could see her. Immediately.
Valeria was simply the path of least resistance.
She was cheap—easily bought. By marrying her, I essentially bought the roof over Maya's head.
I ensured she had nowhere else to turn. I stripped away her choices until my house was the only shelter she had left.
Now, she is exactly where she belongs. In my space.
Under my skin. Waiting for the exact moment she finally breaks.
The only downside is that I can’t fucking stand Valeria.
I had at least hoped to tolerate her, but her obvious mental instability and her desperate need to feel superior to the world—especially to Maya—is grating.
It comes from years of viewing herself as scum under the shoes of the wealthy people she slaved for.
I knew the exact moment I married Valeria and pulled her out of that rundown apartment, Maya would collapse financially. She wouldn't be able to afford the rent alone.
And she’d need me. Completely.
I forced her into a position where she had no choice but to accept my roof, my credit card, and my presence. Her sister is technically my wife, but I don't touch her. I don’t even get the slightest urge to fuck her.
All of that hunger is entirely reserved for Maya. She has absolutely no idea that I am going to consume her whole.
I want to bleed her dry of the essence she carries, just to see if she can bleed those vibrant colors into the dead spaces of my soul.
Purple. Yellow. Pink. Vivid, blinding streaks of light to permanently replace the suffocating grey I’ve survived in for thirty-four years.
I want to see what happens to my heart if she’s the one to finally make it beat.
And if she can't? I’ll ruin us both trying.
But for her to bring me those lights, I have to dismantle her completely first. I want her to depend on me. Only me. Every meal she eats, the pillow she rests her head on, the black credit card in her wallet—it all comes directly from my hand.
By the time I am finished playing this game, she will have no one left in this world but me.
Her sister will blur into nothingness. The outside world will fade into background noise.
Maya will look to her left, and she will see my shadow.
She will look to her right, and she will find my walls.
There will be no fallback plans, no cheap apartments to escape to, and no one left to run to when the night gets too dark.
I will be her provider. Her savior. Her absolute captor.