His Captive Obsession Chapter 01

His Captive Obsession Chapter 01

I had been helping my mom at her hot dog stand for four years when the gorgeous guy she kept locked in the basement escaped.

The very next day, the powerful Vance family announced they had finally found their long-lost heir.

On the news, a dark-eyed man glared into the camera and issued a chilling threat.

“To the wicked woman who kept me prisoner—if I hadn’t lost my memory of your face in that car accident, I’d have destroyed you by now.”

I felt a pang of sadness. How could Daddy forget Mom and me?

Turning around, I expected to see my mom devastated, but instead, she was crying tears of pure joy.

“Holy shit! I’m finally rid of that obsessive psycho!” she cheered, throwing her hands up. “I’m free!”

I just stared at her, completely confused.

******

My dad was fragile, breathtakingly handsome, and a total crybaby.

He actually loved it—being collared and chained.

Whenever Mom got home from work, his eyes would turn red with unshed tears as he begged for her attention like a needy puppy.

“My love, please unlock me,” he would whine.

Mom remained entirely unmoved.

“It’s not time yet,” she would reply coldly.

Daddy would bite his lip, his eyes turning icy as he snapped, “How can you be so ruthless? You never let me eat enough, and you wouldn’t even care if I died of thirst! I can’t take it anymore—unlock me, give me my freedom!”

Mom slapped him without hesitating.

Daddy lowered his gaze, shut his mouth, and let out a soft, strangely satisfied sigh.

“The collar you bought last time was too small,” he murmured submissively. “Be more careful next time, or I won’t wear it. Are you hungry, babe? Go wash your hands for dinner.”

The dinner table was loaded with a feast.

Daddy made it all, and it tasted incredible.

Usually, we ate in silence, but Daddy could never help himself. He would keep pleading in a low voice, “Babe, I’m hungry. Babe, unlock me. Please, please…”

Mom wouldn’t answer. She just quietly and aggressively shoveled food into her mouth.

Daddy would whimper and complain under his breath, “Wicked woman, stripping away my freedom…”

Before I turned four, I genuinely thought they were deeply in love.

A boy at my daycare, Jimmy, told me that a happy family meant parents who didn’t fight and kissed a lot.

I totally agreed with him.

But then I turned four, and I actually started making sense of things.

I realized that normal dads didn’t get chained up in basements.

Things began to feel very off.

Daddy always cried late at night.

One night, after wetting the bed, I went to knock on their bedroom door and heard him crying out in a pitiful voice.

“Babe, I’m going to die, you’re biting too hard… Please, I don’t want to be locked up anymore. Just thinking about you hurts…”

Back then, I was brave enough to bang on the door.

“Daddy, is someone hurting you?” I called out.

The noises inside stopped instantly.

After that night, they installed a motion sensor outside their door that blared an alarm every time I got close.

Because of that, I became absolutely certain of one thing.

Their relationship was deeply toxic.

But before I could figure out a way to fix it, my dad successfully escaped.

That evening, Mom and I finished selling hot dogs and went to the street fair to sell flowers.

The summer night air was cool.

By the time we got home, the basement was completely empty, leaving behind nothing but a heavy chain.

I was too exhausted to think and fell straight to sleep.

The next morning, the news was playing on TV, and there was Daddy’s face.

He didn’t look like the teary-eyed man I remembered.

With a bandage wrapped around his forehead, he stared coldly at the camera, completely detached.

His words were venomous.

“To the wicked woman who kept me prisoner—if I hadn’t lost my memory of your face in that car accident during my escape, I would have destroyed you by now.”