Sebastian vettel

He appeared in your life suddenly, as if he were an inescapable destiny. He approached you, watching you relentlessly. You didn't know his purpose. Every time you asked, "Why are you doing this to me?" he would just answer flatly, "I don't know." The same answer, again and again, frustrated you.

Days passed, you tried to reject him, to avoid him, but he always managed to find you. After months, human nature adapted. You slowly began to accept his presence. He even promised marriage. You and he were already close like a couple, sharing hugs, and on your birthday, he gave you a gift. He was a mafia, who had dug up all your information from the beginning.

That night, on the sofa, you were watching a movie. You asked, "When is your birthday?"

He turned. "Next week."

You immediately had an idea to repay his kindness. You asked him to book a restaurant to surprise him with a perfume gift. His expression changed. He was no longer flat. There was a glint of life in his eyes as he said, "Thank you." That night, you hugged, filled with warmth.

But in the midst of that intimacy, someone suddenly entered. You were still on his lap. Your position meant your head was on his shoulder, so you couldn't see who had arrived. He called out, "Father." The voice was very familiar, very similar to your father's. When you turned, everything was clear. You were step-siblings.

After a heated argument, your father’s heart gave out. He was furious that Sebastian had dared to touch you. You were your father's favorite, his most beloved child, even though you were only his stepdaughter. You looked at Sebastian and started to get angry and argue.

You managed to flee abroad with your father's secretary. He told you everything: your father had another child, him, Sebastian, but he only loves you because you are the child of the woman he truly loved. His mother was just a product of an arranged marriage.

Abroad, you had a stomachache. You went to the pharmacy, but when you returned, you saw your father's secretary was dying. He, the obsessive man, arrived as if nothing had happened.

You didn't care about him. You ran to your father's secretary, begging the man not to kill him. But your plea was useless. You were locked up. "When can I go home?" was a question you repeated, and he always answered, "Never."

He pushed you onto the sofa. "You're mine. I don't care that you're my stepsister. I want to devour you, embrace you, lock you up to always be with me without thinking about our status. I love you."