Billionaire's Crazy Obsession

Genevieve stared at the Hale's Corporation building towering before her, its glass walls glittering with the reflection of the city lights. From where she sat, she could see floors flickering with movement warm light spilling out into the cold night, mocking her as if the building itself was alive while she sat abandoned outside.

She sat on a stone slab just outside the entrance, a narrow strip of marble edging lined with a few green plants, meant more for decoration than protection. Snowflakes fell steadily, melting into her thin dress and the light sweater clinging uselessly to her skin.

Her body was drenched, her skin raw from the icy wind, but her face was blank. She barely felt the snow anymore.

At the entrance, one of the security guards shifted uncomfortably. His eyes kept drifting toward the fragile figure sitting in the snow. He leaned closer to his colleague.

“That lady’s been sitting there for the last three hours,” he muttered, voice low but uneasy. “What is she even doing? Should I go tell her to leave? This is a corporate building, not some goddamn lounge.”

The second guard’s head snapped toward him, alarmed. He quickly grabbed the man’s arm before he could take a step forward. “Are you insane?” he hissed. “That’s Mr. Hale’s wife!”

The first guard frowned. “Mr. Hale? You mean… Victor Hale.?” His throat went dry as the name left his lips. His posture straightened instantly,

blood draining from his face. “The owner of this building? Our boss?”

“Yes, you fucking moron!” The other guard gave a quick nod, as if afraid even the whisper might be overheard. “She’s his wife.”

The first man staggered back to his post, shock written across his features.

His eyes flicked back to the drenched woman, puzzled. “Then… Why is she sitting there like that? Why doesn’t she go up to his office?”

“She’s not allowed in,” the second guard muttered, his voice dropping lower. “Mr. Hale gave the order himself—his wife isn’t to be let through under any circumstances. I heard it from Sheena, you know, that blonde Who's been at the front desk for over ten years? She said he even told her to throw away anything his wife tries to send him.”

The first guard’s mouth fell open. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “Rich people… I never thought they’d treat their wives like this. Look at her. She doesn’t even look like one of them. She looks more like one of the women in my neighborhood who can barely make ends meet.”

“Shut your mouth,” the other guard snapped, his tone sharp. “We don’t know what goes on in their house. Don’t speak too much or we’ll both be in trouble.”

The first guard swallowed hard, falling silent. He turned his attention back to the steady 10 p.m. traffic, though his eyes still flicked to the lonely figure now and again.

Genevieve trembled when another gust of icy air whisked past, cutting through her

drenched clothes. For a moment,