Some people beg for death, yet the world forces them to live. Others cling desperately to life, yet fate pries their fingers away, leaving them to fall.

Calista wasn’t sure which one she was.

She had met Elias long before fate turned them into something twisted. Back then, they were just two lost children in a world that never loved them.

She was the girl with hollow eyes, trapped in a house full of wealth but starved of affection. He was the boy with nothing, fighting for scraps in an unforgiving world. They shouldn’t have met. Their worlds weren’t meant to touch. But fate was cruel, and loneliness was a thread that wove them together.

She remembered the first time she saw him. A boy with storm-colored eyes and bruised knuckles, staring at her through the rusted iron fence of her family estate. He wasn’t afraid of the guards, the dogs, or the walls meant to keep people like him out. He only watched her, unblinking, as if he had found something worth looking at in a world that had given him nothing.

And she? She had never been looked at like that before.

Calista didn’t know why she had done it—why she had slipped through the gates late that night, offering him a stolen piece of bread and the smallest of smiles. But she had. And he had taken it, not just the bread, but the moment, the silent understanding that they were both trapped in different kinds of cages.

Their friendship had been built in stolen moments and whispered secrets, in the quiet rebellion of two children who refused to be forgotten. She gave him books, and he taught her how to fight. She gave him a name to say when the world grew too dark, and he gave her the feeling of safety she had never known.

But childhood promises were fragile things. The world had a way of tearing apart what was never meant to last.

Years later, standing before the towering mansion that now belonged to him, Calista knew one thing for certain—Elias was no longer the boy behind the fence. And she? She was no longer the girl who believed in safe places.

The black iron gates had closed behind her minutes ago, locking away whatever remnants of her past had still clung to her. There was no turning back. Her father had signed away her freedom with a single stroke of his pen, and just like that, she had become his.

Not a daughter, not a person—just an exchange.

A deal sealed in silence.

Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into the flesh of her palms, as if pain could tether her to something real. But reality had never been kind to her, and it wasn’t about to start now. The front doors loomed ahead, polished and pristine, utterly untouched by the storm raging around her. She wondered if he was already inside, waiting.

Elias.

The man who had everything, yet still wanted her.

She knew his name long before tonight. Whispers of him traveled through shadows, slipping between fearful lips and trembling hands. Ruthless. Powerful. A man whose empire was built on blood, yet whose soul remained unreadable. He was an enigma of contradictions—a man who fought to live, yet carried the gaze of someone who wouldn’t mind dying.

Calista took a slow, measured breath, the weight of the night pressing against her chest. Fear was useless now. Hesitation was a luxury she could no longer afford.

With one final glance at the rain-drenched sky, she stepped forward and walked through the doors of her new reality.

Into the world of Elias.

The past never really dies. It lingers in forgotten corners, whispering in the silence between heartbeats. And tonight, the past had a name.

Elias.

Calista stepped into the mansion, her wet shoes sinking into the polished marble floor. The air smelled of smoke and rain, of something expensive and untouchable—like him. Dim lights cast long shadows across the endless hall, making everything feel stretched and unreal.

It was too quiet.

She knew better than to believe in silence. Silence wasn’t peace; it was a loaded gun waiting to go off.

Then, from the far end of the room, a voice cut through the stillness. Deep, steady. Too familiar.

“You’re late.”

She turned slowly.

Elias stood at the top of the staircase, dressed in all black, his presence swallowing the light around him. He had changed in the years since she last saw him. The boy she once knew had been lean from hunger, his clothes too thin to keep out the cold. Now, he was all sharp angles and ruthless control, power built into every movement.

But his eyes—storm-dark, calculating—hadn’t changed at all.

Calista swallowed hard, lifting her chin. “Was I expected to come running?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he descended the stairs with unhurried steps, like a king walking toward something already his.

“I thought you’d forgotten me,” he murmured when he reached her.

She almost laughed. “Forgotten you?” Her fingers twitched at her sides. “How do you forget the only person who ever felt real?”

Something flickered in his expression, gone before she could catch it.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she whispered, though it was too late for that now.

“I didn’t come,” Elias corrected. “I took.”

The words wrapped around her like a chain. I took.

Of course, he had. That’s what he did. That’s what he had always done.

The boy behind the iron fence had once told her he would own the world one day, that he would tear it apart piece by piece and put it back together under his own rules. And she—she had been the only thing he had ever wanted to keep.

Calista shivered as she looked at him now, the ghost of that boy still lurking beneath the man he had become.

Was this what they had been fighting for all along?

She had thought their story ended years ago. But as she stood before him, watching the slow, knowing smile curve his lips, she realized the truth.

Hi everyone Authy this side just wanted you to know I will update 2 chapters regularly

hope you will like it

it's a dark romance story

if you like, try reading other stories of mine

the one who know me I am sorry I was not posting any update

I will be updating all stories which are pending

Comment what you are feeling about this story

like it and subscribe it

and a heart felt apologize to all readers

Elias was everywhere.

No matter how much Calista tried to ignore him, his presence stretched into every corner of the mansion, suffocating, inescapable. He didn’t force her to stay, not with words or chains. But the way he watched her, the way his eyes followed her every movement, was enough to make her skin crawl.

She refused to acknowledge it.

Mornings were the worst. She would wake before dawn, slip into a crisp white shirt and a fitted blazer, and leave before he could corner her with his quiet intensity. Her job was her only escape. The long hours, the relentless workload, the sharp sting of exhaustion—it kept her sane.

If Elias cared that she avoided him, he never showed it. But he was always there.

One night, as she slipped through the front door past midnight, aching and drained, she found him waiting in the dimly lit hall.

“You’re late.”

His voice was steady, unreadable, but something about it made her pause.

Calista kept her eyes down, fumbling with the buttons on her coat. “I had a lot to do.”

Elias leaned against the wall, arms crossed, gaze heavy. “You always do.”

She didn’t respond.

As she turned toward the staircase, his voice cut through the silence again.

“You’re bleeding.”

Calista stilled.

She glanced at her arm, where a tear in her sleeve revealed a deep scrape. It wasn’t the worst she had suffered at work. Some contracts weren’t signed with ink—some required a different kind of negotiation.

“It’s nothing.” She started walking again.

Elias moved before she could reach the stairs, blocking her path in one smooth step.

“Sit.” It wasn’t a request.

Calista clenched her teeth. “I don’t need—”

But he was already pulling her coat off, his fingers grazing the bruise forming on her wrist. His touch was light, almost hesitant, but it burned.

His gaze flicked up to hers, sharp, unreadable. “Who did this?”

She pulled away, forcing a laugh that tasted bitter. “I told you, it’s nothing. This is just what my job requires.”

A muscle in his jaw tightened. “Your job requires you to bleed?”

She didn’t answer.

He exhaled slowly, like he was trying to steady something inside himself. Then, without a word, he turned and disappeared into the next room. A moment later, he returned with a small first aid kit.

Calista watched warily as he knelt before her, taking her arm with a grip that was firm but careful. She hated how natural it felt.

“I don’t need this,” she muttered as he dabbed antiseptic onto the wound.

Elias didn’t respond. He only worked in silence, wrapping the bandage with a precision that felt almost too gentle for someone like him.

She should have pulled away.

She should have told him to stop.

But for some reason, she stayed.

And when he finally looked up at her, something dark and quiet in his expression, she knew—Elias wasn’t going to let this go.

No matter how hard she ran, no matter how much distance she tried to put between them, Elias would always find her wounds.

And worse, he would always try to heal them.