Chapter 6 Growing Obsession

"MAMA, it's beautiful here."

Lena turned to her daughter, who was drawing on the sketch pad she had bought for her. There were only two pages left, and Lena was already thinking of buying her a new one, which was why she was constantly looking for a job.

They were sitting in the living room. She didn't want to, but she would feel ashamed if she and her daughter stayed locked inside the room all day. Besides, Lena hoped that Angel would eventually warm up to the housemaids, so she'd have someone to trust her child with once she started working.

"Why are you staring at my mama?" Angel asked rudely, glaring at Lucian.

The arrogant man was sitting on a single couch, lazily playing with his dog tag while his heated gaze remained fixed on Lena.

Lena glanced at the young man. A crooked smile tugged at Lucian's lips when he turned to Angel. "Is it wrong to admire your mom's beauty?"

Angel scowled, and Lena quickly looked away. She knew Lucian was only using sweet words to get under her skin.

"My mama already has a husband! You can't have a crush on her!"

"Angel..." Lena tried to scold her child, but Angel ignored her. Spoiled, understandable.

Lucian let out a soft laugh, and Lena felt a jolt run through her body. Why does his laugh affect me like this? She shouldn't be feeling this way anymore. She had a child. She should be more mature, especially that Lucian will be her stepson. Next year, they'd be a family.

Family. The thought of Lucian being her step son makes her stomach churn. She hates the idea. She doesn't want Lucian to be her stepson. She couldn't even think about it.

"Really? Who's her husband then? My dad?"

"No!" Angel's voice rose in anger. "My mama only has one husband, and she's not going to marry again!"

"Angel..." Lena held her daughter's hand and turned to Lucian. Her eyes silently pleaded with him. "Lucian, she's just a child. Please!"

Lucian's expression turned cold. "A child whose life you're going to ruin if you go through with your plan."

Lena's jaw clenched. "I'm trying to fix my daughter's life, that's why I'm doing this."

Lucian's brows furrowed. "Fix her life? No. You're messing with her young heart and mind."

Lena shook her head and scooped up her daughter into her arms. She stared at Lucian. Lips quivering, defense falling. "You're wrong, Lucian. Her life will be even more messed up if I don't do this. I don't want her growing up looking down on herself just because I'm her mother. I don't want her crying herself to sleep with an empty stomach. I don't want her to grow up like me. I will never let that happen."

With that, Lena climbed the stairs with her daughter and entered their room, locking the door behind them. She laid Angel down on the bed and cupped her cheek.

"Mama, I don't like him. He's mean."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Mama won't let him hurt you."

Angel looked into her mother's eyes. "Is it true that his daddy is your husband now, Mama?"

Lena swallowed hard. "S-Sweetheart..."

Her daughter hugged her tightly. "I don't want you to marry again, Mama. I only want Papa. I don't want another papa."

Lena took a deep breath and returned the embrace. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the tears. If only I had another option...

---

Meanwhile, Lucian remained in the living room. He stood and picked up the sketch pad the child had left behind. Sitting back down, he began flipping through the pages.

The kid can draw. Clearly, she had a future in art.

One drawing stood out. A happy family. Mama, Papa, Angel. The labels were written clearly above each figure. Clean lines. Neat letters. The artwork was innocent, but it punched something inside him.

A small smile crept onto Lucian's lips. How could a child like this experience hell at a young age?

From the first moment he saw Angel, he felt an odd connection, despite her bratty attitude. The first time they met, she had jumped on his stomach while he was napping with a magazine covering his face. She had squealed "Papa!" but quickly recoiled in disappointment when she saw his face. That's when Magdalena and his father had walked in on.

Lucian flipped further through the sketch pad, and then froze.

A disturbing drawing stared back at him. It was clearly Magdalena. Curly hair, black dress, kneeling before a sinister-looking woman, drawn like a witch. There were tears on her face. Her lips were contorted into a pained expression.

Lucian's jaw tightened. Damn kid's too talented. Too perceptive. And this? This hurts to look at.

"I read online that she used to dance in a club before she met Danilo Mendoza. She only stayed with him because he was handsome and rich. Some even say that the kid isn't his."

Lucian turned toward the two maids who had just entered, carrying grocery bags and chatting.

"Really? I only saw her on the news when she was accused of killing Danilo Mendoza. Poor guy. They said he was kind."

"It's Sir Viktor I feel sorry for. That Magdalena is just using him."

Lucian stood abruptly. The maids looked up, startled. His glare silenced them immediately, and they scurried into the kitchen.

He ground his teeth and marched upstairs, sketch pad in hand, and knocked on the door of the mother and daughter's room.

Lena opened the door, and before she could speak, Lucian shoved the sketch pad toward her. "Clean up your kid's mess. You're not the one paying the staff here."

Lena's lips parted in shock. She took the pad, but before she could respond, Lucian turned his back and walked off.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and entered his room. Throwing himself onto the bed, he stared at the ceiling.

His mind drifted again.

Her Spanish eyes.

Her innocent face.

The softness of her lips.

The taste of her mouth.

The sound of her moans.

The heat inside her.

Damn. He wanted to hear her scream. To scream his name. To beg for him.

He was losing his mind. He wanted to own her. To mark her. Again. Her lower back would look perfect with a tattoo of his name. He imagined trailing his fingers over it while thrusting into her from behind.

A wicked grin twisted his lips as the image burned into his brain.

Magdalena, underneath him. Flushed, sweaty, hair tangled across his pillow. Her moans filling the air as she took him whole.

"Argh! Magdalena..." he groaned, pressing one hand against the bathroom tile as he gave in to the heat.

"Damn, baby. You're mine. All mine..."

Eventually, he found himself under the shower, panting, soaked, his palms pressed against the cold tile.

He smirked. His eyes were dark. Possessive. Dangerous.

"You're so doomed, woman. You should never have crossed into my territory."