Chris POV

People say love makes a man whole. But I’ve only seen it destroy.

I watched it ruin my father...a strong, respected man, once feared, once proud. He turned into a broken fool the day my mother walked out. I saw him fall to pieces in real time. He begged her, cried for her, drank himself to sleep night after night, hoping she’d come back. But she didn’t. She moved on like he never existed, like the life they built was dust.

He gave her everything. She took it all. Then spat in his face.

From that moment, I understood something most men learn too late: Love is a trap.

It makes you soft. Makes you foolish. Makes you kneel.

And I was never going to kneel for anyone. Not a woman. Not ever.

I don’t do love. I don’t do emotions. I don’t believe in fairy tales, soulmates, or happily ever after. I believe in control. In power. In legacy. I believe in getting what I want, when I want it, and never apologizing for it.

And most importantly...I don’t lose.

That’s the first rule. The only rule.

People like to think power means having wealth or fame or a thousand people shouting your name. They’re fools. Power is one thing: control. Control over situations, over outcomes and over people.

And I control everything I touch.

Deals don’t fail. Plans don’t fall apart. And when I want something, I take it. That’s how empires are built. That’s how men like me survive.

I’ve never been confused about what I want out of life. I have never wanted a traditional wife, not some delicate, emotional mess who thinks tears change the world. No. I want legacy. An heir. A name that doesn’t die when I do.

So I planned it all. I wasn’t going to marry someone who’d think love gave her leverage. I wasn’t going to let emotion rot my foundation. I just needed the right vessel...a woman who could carry my child and not make it complicated.

Because let's face it, women aren’t meant to be loved. They’re meant to be ordered. Controlled. Owned.

No matter what you give them...attention, loyalty, your heart... it’s never enough. They always want more. They’re insatiable. Loving them is like trying to fill a hole with smoke. A waste of time. A waste of emotion.

And emotions make you weak.

That’s why I don’t play games I know are rigged. I know exactly what I want and Janet is the perfect candidate

She has everything I am looking for. Beauty, spirit, a bit of fire in her eyes. And most importantly, no power. No money. No backing. She is poor, desperate, and struggling to survive. This means, she could easily be controlled.

Poor girls like her are not meant to be strong-willed. They are never supposed to think. Never suppose to fight back. All they have to do was obey, follow the rules and be grateful.

But instead of Janet to be submissive, she ran. She fucking ran.

She spat in my face by choosing that useless boy over me. James...a broke gambler with no name and no spine.

That was her first mistake.

I could’ve gone after her immediately. But I don’t chase. I don’t stoop. I don’t rush.

I waited.

I hired someone to follow her, watch her, document every moment. And I saw it all , the way life broke her down. The cheap food. The secondhand clothes. The constant fear. The lies James told her to keep her quiet. The way he’d come home drunk and shout until she cried.

She chose that. Over me.

That was her second mistake.

So I set the stage.

I knew James would gamble again. He’s the type...weak, reckless, easy to bait. I just had to show up, let him dig his own grave, and offer the rope.

He didn’t even hesitate.

The moment he lost, he threw her on the table like she was just another card.

“She’s all I’ve got,” he said. “Just one year.”

Pathetic.

That’s what disgusts me the most , not that she left, not even that she disobeyed me, but that she trusted someone who saw her as worthless.

Now she’s here.

In my house.

And she looks at me like I’m the monster. Like I’m the villain in her story.

She thinks I’m the reason she’s suffering.

She doesn’t understand.

I didn’t destroy her life. I didn’t break her. Her father did. James did. Life did.

All I did was collect what already belonged to me.

I won’t explain myself. I don’t need to.

I’m not here to convince her of anything.

I don’t want her love.

I don’t want her smiles, her thanks, her fake forgiveness.

I want her silence.

Her obedience.

Her womb.

I will get what I came for...an heir. My heir. The future of my legacy.

She can scream all she wants. She can fight. She can cry. She can call me every name in the book. I don’t care.

She’s not here to be happy.

She’s here to serve a purpose.

And if she still thinks she can test me, defy me, bite the hand that now owns her, she’s more foolish than I thought.

In this house, I speak...and things happen.

I command, and people obey.

There is no begging. No excuses. No mercy.

No one walks out on me twice.

She had her chance to behave.

Now?

Now she will learn.

I will bend her. Shape her. Strip her of every illusion she still carries.

If she thinks I’m cruel now, she hasn’t seen what I become when someone defies me.

She is mine.

And I will break her, rebuild her, and own her...completely.

Not because I want her.

But because I can.

Janet, my property.