Golden Gate Park – Happier Days
Four years ago, Joe arrived in San Francisco on a wave of seed money and AI dreams. Linh followed from London six months later—small suitcase, shy smile, blind faith in him.
Weekends were theirs: long walks in Golden Gate Park, eucalyptus air, koi drifting under arched bridges in the Japanese Tea Garden.
“Sakura… or was it saku-ra?”
Linh’s laugh—light, free. “You’re hopeless, Joe.”
Back then he held her hand without agenda, considered himself kind. That man feels like a ghost now.
Now the Russian Hill apartment is his stage. He’s cruel on purpose—testing how far her devotion goes, savoring the flicker of hurt in her eyes before she hides it.
Her visa depends on him. Her money depends on him. She thanks him for every dollar like it’s air.
“Sit.”
She obeys instantly—thighs pressed, spine straight, braced for the next cut.
The grip
“Don’t cling. You know I hate that.”
“I’m sorry.” She pulls back, hands folding like a scolded child.
He fists her hair, tugs sharply. Her gasp sends a dark thrill through him. Thumb traces the silver chain around her throat: PROPERTY OF JOE.
“You can stay.”
Her grateful smile blooms fragile. She leans for a kiss—he turns away. Rejection clean. Brutal.
Instead he forces her down—slow, deliberate—into his lap. She understands.
“Swallow every drop.”
She does—obedient, tear-streaked—then stays kneeling, forehead to his thigh, waiting.
After
He stands, tucks himself away, leaves her on the floor without a glance. Linh curls into herself and eventually sleeps. Joe doesn’t.
The park walks are dead. Code owns his weekends now. He wants the AI embodied—seductive, profitable. Real money. Real runway.
Then his phone lights up.