Chapter 1: Return to Savannah

After months surviving the world’s most dangerously possessive man—a guy who could have burned Savannah to the ground—I thought I’d finally earned my freedom.

I’d spent so long tiptoeing around his moods, pouring every ounce of patience into him until my nerves were threadbare. Now, finally, my job was done. I could breathe. But just as I was ready to slip away for good, he appeared in the doorway, haunted and hollow-eyed, as if he’d spent every night since I left searching for me in his sleep.

His gaze was raw, eyes rimmed red, like he hadn’t slept—or stopped crying—in days. He refused to let me go. I hugged him, heart pounding, and coaxed, "Hey, be good, I’ll go buy you some strawberries."

Every step away from him felt like stepping off a cliff, but I kept smiling. If I looked back, I’d never leave. I smoothed his hair and forced a gentle laugh. "Promise. Just strawberries."

Then, I vanished.

One blink, and I was gone—leaving behind a half-truth and the faintest ghost of strawberry sweetness. I was certain I’d finally earned my escape.

I never dreamed I’d be dragged back three years later.

But here I was. Not just in a different year, but in a Savannah that felt like another universe. The pitiful, broken Derek Stanton had become a kingpin—powerful enough to rule Savannah’s elite with a flick of his wrist.

His expression was glacial as he grabbed my wrist, throwing me onto the bed. With his tie wrapped tight around his hand, his voice scraped low and rough:

"Be good. The strawberries you owed me three years ago—should I leave them on your neck or your waist tonight?"

My heart did a slow, terrified somersault. Was this really the same awkward, wounded boy I’d left behind?