Page 19 of The Art of Obsession

Hmm… try billionaire artist? Check. Hauntingly handsome? Check. World at his feet? Check. You being hopelessly obsessed?Double check.

Oh, so now noticing someone exists means I’m obsessed? Great logic, Cherry. Truly groundbreaking.

Girrrl, he’s not just living rent-free in your head. He’s hosting exhibitions there. Honestly, Evie, if I had a man like Acheron ruining my life, I’d thank him for the privilege.

I amnotsome “pick me” girl.

Oh, sweetie, you’re not a ‘pick me’ girl—you’re a ‘pick me apart because I can’t stop thinking about him’ girl. Big difference.

Cherry, I love you, but if you don’t buzz off like the annoying little mosquito pixie you are, I’m putting you on mute. Permanently.

Ha! Good luck with that.She turns, flutters her wings, and flips me the bird.I’ll be off…forming a fan club in Acheron’s honor. Feel free to join when you’re done pretending he’s not the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to you.

The music is still thunderingas I step back into the club, the bass vibrating through my chest like a second heartbeat. Multicolored lights flash across the dance floor, and everything feels normal. Just a crowd of people dancing, laughing, living.

And then the screaming starts.

It cuts through the music like a knife spreading across the room in waves. People turn. People point.

I follow their gazes upward.

A body swings from the rafters. Hung. Lifeless. The rope creaks as it sways, back and forth, like a grotesque pendulum.

Horror rips through my blood and ricochets my heart.

My stomach plummets, and a strange, cold numbness washes over me.No.I don’t want to look closer, but I can’t stop myself. His dark jeans, the crisp white shirt, the tousle of hair—until my gaze locks on his face.

Jake.

Jake who kissed me on the rooftop and said I was worth more.

His lifeless eyes stare blankly down at the chaos below, his mouth slack, his head hanging at an unnatural angle.

The world tilts.

I stagger back, a strangled noise catching in my throat.No, no, no.

The crowd around me is screaming, breaking apart like a stampede. Someone crashes into me, and I stumble, nearly falling to my knees. But I can’t look away. My heart pounds so hard it hurts.

This is my fault.

My blood congeals. Because it’s Acheron. This was him.

He’s here.

The realization jolts me out of my frozen state. I turn and run, shoving through the crowd, my legs barely holding me up.

The night air hits me as I burst through the doors, gasping for breath. I don’t stop running until I reach my car, my hands shaking so badly I can barely grip my keys.

I fumble with the lock, desperate to get inside, to escape, tobreathe. My chest is tight, my vision swimming.

It’s not real. It can’t be real.

I’m shaking head to toe even when I get inside. My fingers are clumsy, too slick with sweat.

And then I hear it.

A sound like leather tightening.