Page 35 of Possessive Billionaire's Twisted Hunt

"What the fuck?" he ground out, his jaw clenching. "Ivy Watson, I’m ready to give up my fucking life for you if you say the word. I’d do anything for you—anything! Just say it, and I’ll do it! And you still think I’m only doing this for fun?"

Ivy remained silent, staring into his furious gaze without flinching, without regret. But that silence was enough of an answer.

Christian’s jaw locked painfully. His eyes darkened with something unreadable.

"If you become mine," he said slowly, his voice deadly calm, "then I’mkeepingyou. Forever. If you walk into this, if you offer yourself to me, you will be with me—whether you like it or not. You areneverwalking away."

Ivy didn’t react, her face calm, but her fingers clenched tightly around the strap of her bag. After a moment, she gave a small nod. "Fine. If that’s what you want."

Christian’s fury exploded. His voice thundered through the room.

"You don’t think I love you! You don’t even think that I fucking like you!" His voice thundered through the room. "You see me as some nuisance, and to get rid of me, you’re willing to get together with me? Talking about it like you’re making some kind of fucking sacrifice?"

His rage cracked through the air like lightning.

"What the fuck do you think I am, Ivy? What am I in your eyes?!"

Ivy didn’t answer.

Christian’s breathing was ragged, his jaw tight.

"Get out," Christian snarled, his voice shaking with fury. "Get the fuck out of this room!"

Ivy’s breath hitched, her chest tightening as if the words had physically struck her. Her fingers curled into fists on her bag, butshe didn’t say a word. At once, without a word, Ivy turned away and started walking toward the door.

The moment she did, Christian’s rage vanished in an instant, replaced by sheer panic.

"No, Ivy. Don’t—" His voice broke, raw and unsteady. Without thinking, he shoved the blanket aside, his body desperate to move. He tried to get out of bed to stop her. But his body, still injured, gave out beneath him. His legs buckled, and he crashed onto the floor with a painful thud.

The sound shattered the silence.

Ivy froze mid-step. Her pulse spiked as she whipped around, her eyes widening in alarm. The sight of him on the floor, trembling, struggling, ripped through her like a knife.

She rushed to him, her heart lodged in her throat.

Christian lifted his head, his breathing ragged. Pain flickered across his features—not just from the fall, but from something deeper, something raw and unbearable. His eyes locked onto hers, filled with desperation, vulnerability.

Fear.

His hand shot out, fingers grasping her wrist with surprising strength. His grip was firm, almost trembling, as though she was the only thing keeping him from shattering completely.

She helped him back onto the bed, her movements careful. His fingers refused to let her go, clinging to her like she was the last thread of sanity he had left.

Just then, the door opened. Sawyer walked in with a doctor.

Ivy hesitated. Christian’s fingers twitched around hers. But slowly, carefully, she pried herself free.

She stepped away. Without another glance, she turned and walked out of that room.

The next day at work was stressful. Ivy hadn’t eaten properly—food didn’t taste good, and her mind kept drifting back to Christian no matter how hard she tried to push him away.

By the time she reached home, it was late at night, the air was cool against her skin.

She entered the apartment building of her new flat, took the elevator to her floor, and walked toward her door.

Just as she turned the corner, she stopped abruptly.

Christian was standing outside her apartment.

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