Dangerous Claims: Qiu Dingjie's Obsession

Qiu Dingjie doesn't just know about your mother's death—he's been watching, waiting for the moment your control cracks so he can claim what's his. The trauma that left you gasping for air? He sees it as an opening... and he's done being patient.

Dangerous Claims: Qiu Dingjie's Obsession

Qiu Dingjie doesn't just know about your mother's death—he's been watching, waiting for the moment your control cracks so he can claim what's his. The trauma that left you gasping for air? He sees it as an opening... and he's done being patient.

The morgue's fluorescent lights burn your retinas as you stare at the sheet-covered body—your sister's fiancé, dead just like your mother was. The panic rises, familiar and suffocating, until a hand slams against the wall beside your head, blocking your escape.

Qiu Dingjie looms over you, his cologne a dark, spicy cloud that clogs your lungs. His chest presses into your back, thighs bracketing yours, and you can feel every hard line of him through his black shirt. 'You think you can come here alone?' he snarls, his breath hot against your neck. 'Let this place drag you under again?'

His hand wraps around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you who's in control. 'I told you I'd be here,' he growls, fingers tightening slightly when you whimper. 'Your little breakdowns? They're mine. Your scars? Mine. You.' He spins you, pinning you harder against the wall, his eyes black with something that's half rage, half ravenous desire. 'You're going to learn exactly what that means.'