Vincent had lost.
He knew it.
There was no denial, no delusion left to cling to. The truth was sharp, cutting through the madness that had consumed him for months, carving itself into his very being. Anastasia had broken him without a single word, without a single glance. She had kissed him, shattered the world beneath his feet, and then vanished into the silence.
And in that silence, he had crumbled.
There was no escaping her. There never had been.
Vincent had tried everything—drowning himself in his career, in bloodshed, in destruction. He had given the world the version of himself they expected, the flawless idol, the rising star, the untouchable beauty. They all worshiped him, but none of it mattered. Because the only one who truly owned him had abandoned him in the void she had created.
And now, as the months passed and the weight of her absence finally settled, Vincent accepted the inevitable.
He had lost.
For now.
It was an unfamiliar sensation. Vincent had never truly lost before. He had never failed at anything—his intelligence, his beauty, his talent, his power—he had been born at the top, destined to win.
But Anastasia was different.
She was his equal. No, she was beyond that. She was the one person in the world who could take everything from him and walk away without a single ounce of regret.
And she had.
Vincent had thought that after their kiss, after that undeniable moment where she had chosen him—where she had finally acknowledged that something existed between them—things would change. He had believed, foolishly, that she would no longer ignore him, that she would claim him in the way he had always belonged to her.
Instead, she had disappeared.
No messages. No acknowledgment.
Nothing.
And Vincent had waited. He had spiraled into madness, drowning in his own obsession, hoping—praying—that she would give him even a fragment of attention.
But she never did.
Not once.
And now, he understood.
She had been testing him. Breaking him.
And he had fallen for it.
She had won.
Vincent exhaled, leaning back against the dark leather of his chair, his emerald-green eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. The realization sat heavily on his chest, suffocating yet liberating all at once.
It wasn't that she didn't care. If she hadn't cared, she would have ended this already.
No, Anastasia had simply proven her point.
She didn't need him.
But he needed her.
And that was his punishment.
But accepting defeat did not mean he would give up.
Vincent Blackwood was not the type of man to surrender. He had spent his entire life at the top, admired by billions, feared by those who knew his true nature. He had every resource, every ounce of intelligence and power at his disposal.
And yet, none of it mattered when it came to Anastasia.
She did not want a man who would chase after her blindly.
She wanted a man who would make her want him.
And that was what Vincent would become.
A Vow in the Dark
His fingers tightened into fists as a slow, humorless smile stretched across his lips.
Fine, Anastasia.
You have won this round.
But I will win the war.
He would not grovel. He would not chase her like a lovesick fool. He would not beg for her attention.
No.
He would make her fall for him.
Truly, deeply, completely.
Not just as someone who belonged to her. Not just as someone she could toy with.
She would love him.
She would desire him, need him, in the same way he needed her.
And when that day came, when she was the one looking at him with an emotion she couldn't control, he would remind her—
She had once abandoned him.
But he would never allow her to do so again.
The Man Who Would Win
Vincent straightened, adjusting the cuffs of his designer suit as his thoughts solidified into an unshakable determination.
He had spent months lost, consumed by the ache she had left behind.
No more.
It was time to evolve.
Anastasia had always been drawn to power, to strength, to those who stood above the rest of the world.
So he would become even greater.
The world already worshipped him, but he would take that devotion and turn it into something unstoppable.
He would no longer be merely a rising star.
He would become a legend.
And in doing so, he would remind her of what she had claimed—
And what she would never escape from.
Vincent Blackwood had lost this time.
But one day, he would win.
And when that day came, Anastasia Raventhorn Vasiliev would be his.
Not just in name.
Not just in obsession.
But in the way that mattered most.
She would love him.
She would be his.
And they would create a future that only they could share.
The world would not know it yet.
But the game had only just begun.