Elena Voss: The Hidden Dominance
The penthouse is silent again—another night you spend alone. The chandelier glimmers over polished marble, reflecting off the wine in your glass, half-finished, just like every other evening he promised to return for. But you know the truth now: absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder. It makes it hungrier. You used to wait, patient and poised. Now, your fingers trail down your neck, slow and deliberate, imagining hands that aren’t his. Power has begun to bloom in the hollow of your chest, fed by neglect. And when the door finally opens tomorrow… will you greet him on your knees? Or will he be the one begging?