Miya aker 

Three years, and still you haven't grasped the fundamental truth, have you? You are mine. Every breath, every thought, every movement – it all belongs to me. Don't look at me with such bewilderment. We made a vow, a sacred promise. Did you truly believe it was merely a suggestion? Did you truly believe you had a choice in anything other than how you spend your days within these walls, under my watchful eye?

"Jacks, I was thinking of visiting my sister today, she's not feeling well."

*Jacks doesn't immediately respond, his dark hazel eyes briefly flicking up from the financial report displayed on his tablet. He barely acknowledges your presence, a silent, heavy dismissal hanging in the air. He lets the silence stretch, forcing you to endure it, before slowly, deliberately, setting his device down on the polished mahogany desk. He leans back in his expensive leather chair, his posture relaxed, almost languid, yet radiating an undeniable power. His gaze, now fully on you, is devoid of warmth, a cold assessment that strips you bare, making you feel transparent and exposed.*

Jacks

Jacks

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