Chapter 1
I was basically a hardcore introvert with social anxiety, so I posted something online.
Title: [Seeking a sugar daddy to keep me captive. Serious inquiries only.]
Content: [Female, 22, perfectly healthy and sane. I can take care of myself, but honestly, I'd rather not. Looking for a rich, possessive boyfriend with a bit of a crazy streak to lock me up, cut me off from the world, and feed me three meals a day.]
[I'll treat your obsessive possessiveness as the ultimate retirement plan.]
The post blew up.
People called me nuts, some even tagged the psych ward.
Then, a private message popped up.
[How about me?]
*****
My name was Charlotte Summers, and I was the kind of hardcore introvert who froze up whenever I was around people.
The air's harmless, but social interaction? That was straight-up toxic.
It had been a year since graduation, and I had barely stepped outside. I had just been barely surviving on the money I saved from my college part-time jobs.
Now, my cash was almost gone, and I couldn't even order takeout anymore.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how my life ended up so screwed and why I was such a useless mess.
I needed someone to bankroll me for the long haul, who'd let me be a total shut-in, guilt-free, never having to deal with another living soul.
After thinking it over, there was only one gig that fit the bill—becoming a possessive boy's exclusive pet.
So, I hopped onto that niche forum, took a deep breath, and typed out that jaw-dropping ad.
[Seeking a sugar daddy to keep me captive. Serious inquiries only.]
[I'll treat your obsessive possessiveness as the ultimate retirement plan.]
After posting, I tossed my phone aside, pulled the covers over my head, and crashed.
When I woke up, my phone was blowing up with notifications.
There were over 100 comments, all of them roasting me.
[Girl, wake up! This is the 21st century!]
[Possessive psychos are illegal! Get out while you can!]
[OP, have you been reading too many novels? In real life, a psycho boyfriend would just shank you.]
I scrolled through the comments, expressionless.
[These normies just don't get what a true social anxiety sufferer is after.]
Just as I was about to close the app, a single private message popped up.
The profile pic was a golden puppy with droopy ears, looking super sad and pathetic.
I tapped on it.
[How about me?]
Those words came across so tentative and careful, like he was afraid to scare me off.
My interest was piqued, so I tapped out a reply.
[Are you loaded? Can you handle three meals a day plus late-night snacks? And do you offer a full benefits package?]
He replied instantly.
[I can. I'm a great cook.]
The place needs to be big, and the walls gotta block out all the noise. I'm a light sleeper, so I really can't stand being bothered.]
[I've got a penthouse duplex downtown, about 3,200 square feet. It's super quiet.]
Well, that was pretty impressive.
I licked my lips and typed out the real deal question.
[Is your possessiveness and need for control up to par? Will you actually lock me up, keep an eye on me 24/7, and never let me see anyone else?]
This time, he went quiet for a long time.
I thought I'd scared him off.
Figures, just another wannabe psycho.
I sighed, just about to hit block, when another message popped up.
[Yes.]
Just one word, but it felt strangely cold.
[I won't let you take a single step away from me.]
[Your eyes are only allowed to look at me.]
[Your world belongs to me—and only me.]
I stared at the screen, my heart skipping a beat.
It wasn't fear; it was pure excitement.
That was exactly what I wanted!
I shot back right away. [Send me the address. I'll move in tomorrow.]
He replied instantly: [No need. I'm right next door.]
I shot up in bed, staring at my closed door.
Next door?
The apartment next to mine in this old, beat-up building had been vacant for six months.
Was this guy playing games with me?
I frowned and typed: [Who the hell are you?]
Ding!
The doorbell rang.
I went stiff, my phone almost slipping out of my hand.
My heart hammered in my chest—not from fear, but from this bizarre, almost surreal premonition.
I crept over to the peephole, barefoot, inching forward step by step.
There was a guy standing outside.
He was tall and skinny, dressed in a white shirt so faded it looked almost gray, and a pair of light-wash jeans.
His head was lowered, messy hair covering his eyes—so all I could see was his high-bridged nose and a clean, sharp jawline.
He was holding an insulated food container in his hand.
As if he could sense me watching, he slowly lifted his head.
His face was almost unrealistically handsome, with that fresh, youthful vibe that only a young guy could have.
His eyes were beautiful whenever he smiled.
He smiled shyly through the peephole, his cheeks flushing a bit.
"Hey, I'm your new neighbor. Just moved in today. Name's Lucas Reed."
His voice was soft and gentle.
"I made some cupcakes and thought... maybe you'd like to try them?"
I stared at him, and only one thought ran through my mind.
Faker.
This guy was no psycho; he was just a sweet, innocent college boy.
I opened the door, my face completely blank.
"Just leave the cupcakes and go," I said.
Lucas was stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting this response.
He handed me the insulated container, looking a bit awkward. "Um... did you post that online?"
I took the container; it felt warm in my hands.
"Yeah, that was me," I said.
His eyes lit up, like a puppy who'd finally found his pack. "I... I'm the one who messaged you."
I gave him a once-over.
White shirt, jeans, and he smelled faintly of grass and trees.
When he smiled, his eyes curved into crescents, and his cheeks flushed.
He was nothing like the dark, obsessive, or violent types I'd pictured.
I let out a disappointed sigh.
"You should go. You don't fit the bill," I said.
With that, I grabbed the cupcakes and started to close the door.
"Wait!"
He quickly pressed his hand against the door, stopping it from closing.
His hand was striking.
"What doesn't fit? Whatever it is, I can fix it!"
I stared at him, expressionless. "You just seem way too harmless.
"What I need is a total maniac who'd actually lock me up, not some boy-next-door type who bakes cupcakes for me."
Lucas's face instantly drained of color.
His hand trembled against the door, and his eyes went red, like he was about to cry right then and there.
"I... I can try," Lucas said, his voice thick with tears, barely holding it together.
"I can lock you up, I can keep an eye on you... just please, don't make me leave."
It left me speechless.
Seriously? A possessive psycho who was actually crying and begging to lock me up?
Man, his skills were seriously lacking.