The city lights shimmered through the large windows of Damien Blackwood's office. Damien sat at his desk, his fingers lightly tapping against the surface as he sipped a glass of wine. His eyes were dark and intense, filled with a calculating look. Across from him, Ethan sat relaxed, a slight smirk on his face.
"Still thinking about her, huh?"
Ethan asked, leaning back in his chair. "I've never seen you this… desperate."
Damien didn't take his eyes off the city skyline.
"It's not about being desperate," he replied slowly, his voice low and threatening. "It's about making her mine—completely mine."
"Making her yours?"
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You mean… the girl you've been looking into for years? The one who has no idea you even exist?"
A slow, almost predatory smile spread across Damien's lips.
"I don't want her to know I'm out there… not yet. But I will find her, claim her. And nothing… and no one… will stop me when I do."
Ethan shook his head, his tone a mix of amusement and concern.
"Man, you make it sound like a mission. I mean, it's just a girl."
"Just a girl?"
Damien's voice dropped, sharp like a blade. "Ethan, she's… the one I've wanted for years. The one I've watched from afar. And I don't let what I want slip away." His eyes burned with intensity, almost frightening in their determination.
Ethan chuckled nervously.
"Alright, alright. But remember, man… don't scare her off before you even meet her."
Damien leaned back, a faint and dangerous smirk playing on his lips.
"Let her be scared. Fear only makes things interesting."
15 years ago.
The Blackwood mansion glittered with lights that night. Crystal chandeliers sparkled, music played, and children ran across the large garden, their laughter mixing with the clink of champagne glasses. A table overflowed with lavishly wrapped gifts — gold bows, silver ribbons, boxes taller than the boy they were meant for.
But ten-year-old Damien Blackwood sat in his chair with little interest, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd.
His father sat down beside him, pride in his voice. "Well, Damien, you've got everything a boy could ask for. But tell me, son… is there something else you want? Something we haven't given you yet?"
Damien's gaze stopped at the far corner of the garden.
There she was.
A small girl, barely five, holding a worn stuffed bunny. She wasn't playing or running with the others. She stood alone, wide innocent eyes fixed on the games she was never invited to join. There was a softness to her — fragile, breakable, as if she wanted to play but didn't belong in this world of glitter and gold.
Damien lifted his finger and pointed straight at her. His voice was steady, certain.
"I want that doll."
His father following his gaze, frowned., "Damien… she's not a doll. That's our gardener's daughter."
Damien didn't blink. "I don't care. I want her. You said you will give me everything I want."
There was no tantrum, no childish whining. Just a quiet, unsettling certainty.
His father forced a laugh, brushing it off. "People aren't gifts, Damien. You can't have her. Now come, let's open your presents."
He reached for his son's hand.
But Damien barely moved, his eyes locked on the little girl across the lawn. The noise of the party faded; the lights and laughter blurred. All he saw were those wide, innocent and curious watchful eyes.
And in the silence of his young heart, Damien Blackwood slowly said to himself—
One day, I'll have her. Make her my beautiful doll. One day… she'll belong to me.
"Damien."
He was snapped back from the darkness of his past by Ethan's voice. The picture of his beautiful doll with big, innocent and naive eyes sparkled, and Damien blinked, his jaw tensing.
"Thinking about her again, huh?" Ethan's smile was crooked as he teased.
Damien said bluntly, "Shut up," in a low, menacing tone that put an end to discussions.
Ethan just grinned more broadly. "You're gone, man. You are crazy for her."
Damien's eyes glinted as he leaned back in his chair. "crazy, no. I'm obsessed with her, i need her and I'll have her, too.