“Uh… around the West Union axis,” I say, my voice faltering slightly. His brow furrows, and I can sense the question forming in his mind. The West Union area was known for little more than a market square and an organization building—definitely not somewhere you'd expect someone like me to be headed at this hour. But, thankfully, he doesn’t push any further. I’m relieved.The rain picks up, drumming harder against the windshield, transforming from a gentle shower into a relentless downpour. It’s almost impossible to see the road ahead. “Shit,” he mutters, pulling over to the side. The smell of leather from his car and the intoxicating blend of his scent invades my senses, wrapping around me like an invisible blanket. It’s... overwhelming, almost intoxicating. The silence between us grows, thick with tension. I shift in my seat, hyper-aware of every breath, every beat of my heart. The rain outside beats in rhythm with my pulse, and I can’t shake the feeling of being trapped—not by th
Feeling the pressure in my bladder, I slowly open my eyes, squinting against the blinding light filtering through the windshield. I blink several times, trying to adjust. The rain has stopped, but the cold lingers in the air, biting at my skin. Glancing at the dashboard, I notice it’s 4:52 a.m. The clouds still hang low, dark and heavy from the earlier rainfall, but the world feels eerily still.Careful not to disturb him, I sit up slowly. He’s still asleep, one arm draped lazily over his eyes as if shielding himself from the world. For a moment, I watch him, feeling a pang of guilt for slipping away so silently, knowing he had good intentions. But I shake it off. I need to get back. I gently push open the car door, every creak sounding louder than it should. I gather my clothes, making sure not to make a sound, and quietly alight from the car. The air is sharp and cold against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. I glance back one more time before walking away, heading towards
"I'm so sorry, it won’t happen again," I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I stare at my feet, shame prickling at my skin."Don't tell me that. That’s what you always say," Paula snaps, it is quite obvious she is in a sour mood today. I can feel her eyes burning holes into me, and though it's not entirely my fault, I can't bring myself to argue. I overslept."Get to work," she orders with a dismissive wave of her hand, and I move quickly, the weight of my exhaustion pressing down on me like a heavy blanket. All day, I feel sluggish, and waves of nausea ripple through me. I force it down, clutching at my stomach when no one is looking. ****Later******The evening rush has hit, and the café is swarming with customers. The hustle and bustle makes my head spin, but I keep pushing forward, the thought of the weekend barely enough to keep me going. ‘Tomorrow’, I tell myself. Tomorrow I can rest. Or maybe not—I still need to search for another job. We need extra income, and our savin
“Mr… Mr. Hawthorne,” Paula stammers, visibly terrified by the fury blazing in his eyes. Heck, even I’m trembling. This is it, I am done for—I can as well kiss this job goodbye.“Thank God you're here,” the man sneers, his face contorting with disgust as he glances back at me. “This incompetent fool spilled coffee on me.”“I… I—” I try to explain, to say anything in my defense, but my voice is caught in my throat, choking on the overwhelming feeling that no one cares. I want to scream, to shout, but the weight of the moment silences me. The tears that have been brimming finally spill over, hot and uncontrollable.“Stop making matters worse,” Paula cuts in hastily, her voice a sharp whisper. “I’m so sorry, sir. We’ll compensate for this—”“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice trembling, eyes fixed on the floor as tears continue to fall. “Please… forgive me. I can’t lose this job. I’ve tried so hard.” My voice cracks, the vulnerability creeping in more than I intended. But I couldn't help it,
One thing I respect about him is that he never pushes—he respects boundaries. I think he must’ve noticed the hesitation on my face because he didn’t press me further. “Th… thank you,” I murmur, watching him stand up, his broad back retreating toward the desk. Cocky bastard. He doesn’t even bother turning around as he waves me off dismissively. Why is he even here today? He hardly shows up. God knows what might’ve happened if Mr. Hawthorne hadn’t walked in when he did. I shudder at the thought. The rumors would’ve been endless—my haters would’ve had a field day. At least I was validated this time, but it still feels like I narrowly dodged something worse.As I walk out of the office, I head straight for my usual spot. Geez, I’ve got so much to tell Maryam about her so-called "MCM." That’s what she calls him. Every time I complain about Thorn, she brushes me off, saying, “But he’s hot, so everything he does is valid,” As if good looks justify everything.Her favorite line? “There’s a
Upon reaching the camp, there wasn’t much to do, so I stretched my limbs and decided to sort through my clothes. I rampaged through the mess, folding and rearranging, though it was more of an excuse to keep my hands busy. The thing about being alone is that unwanted thoughts start creeping in, uninvited. The memories I claim to have buried, the people I say I’ve forgotten—none of it is true. They always crawl back into my mind, haunting me like shadows that refuse to disappear.I thought about the first day I returned home. Richard, the butler, had opened the door. His eyes had widened with shock, his lips parting as though he was unsure if he was seeing a ghost. Maybe he recognized me, but at that moment, I didn’t recognize him. His face was a blur, a distant piece of a life I had long abandoned. He scurried away, most likely to inform them that their long-lost daughter had returned.“My God, Claire!” my mother gasped when she saw me. Her hand flew to her chest, tears spilling from
It is Monday already. I was heading to work, the weight of the weekend still heavy on my shoulders. The agent had shown us places way outside our budget, and it was a struggle—honestly, a draining, frustrating struggle. We wanted a decent place, something that didn’t look like it would fall apart with one strong breeze. But our budget had us cornered, leaving us at the mercy of what little we could afford.We had to settle for something in a lower-class neighborhood—a ghetto, really. But it wasn’t too bad, considering the other places we were shown. It was decent enough, and that’s all we could ask for. Two bedrooms, small but comfortable. At least Maryam and I would have our own spaces. It wasn’t much, but it was something. We’ll move in completely tonight, scraping by with just mattresses. Sofas, home décor, and the little touches would come later, once we could save up again. One step at a time."Good morning," I greeted the watchman as I entered work. His smile was warm as he ans
Sebastian’s POV:After my time with Ella, I decided it was best to freshen up before bed. I entered my room, pulling off my black shirt, when something—or rather, someone—caught my attention. There she was, on the CCTV feed connected to my iPad. I’d tuned in earlier to check on things, a habit I developed to ensure my branches ran smoothly when I wasn’t there.I’d forgotten to exit the feed.Something about her always felt off. Sketchy. And I couldn’t figure it out. Daphne had a habit of being the last to leave the café, always staying after hours when no one else was around. It was just her and the security outside, and I’d noticed this pattern more than once. That day, when that sick bastard laid his hands on her, something inside me snapped. The rage I felt was enough to ignite the world. I despised men who acted like animals, treating women as if they were property. I imagined how I’d react if someone touched my little girl that way. Daphne may not be my daughter, but she was som
Charles soon turned, leaving the room with a chuckle, clearly enjoying the moment, thinking he might bag a contract by the end of the day. “Let go of me!” I screamed, thrashing with every ounce of strength I could muster. My nails clawed at his arms, my legs kicking out blindly. His grip only tightened, and I felt his hot, sour breath on my neck.“Stop fighting, Whore,” he growled, his tone laced with menace. His filthy hands roamed where they shouldn’t, and panic clawed at my chest. Fear flooded through me like a wildfire—not just for myself but for my unborn baby and Claire.Claire… Is this what she endured? I couldn't imagine her calling such a man Father, even after all he had put her through.I was always jealous of their relationship, always wondering why it couldn't be me, why he constantly chose her before me. I doubted myself, wondering if I acted a little bit more Claire, I would be more…loveable. If I perfected her tone, manner, and everything else. Tears blurred my visi
Sebastian’s POVThe first time I saw Daphne, something shifted in me. There was something about her—fragility masked by a fiery determination—that captivated me in a way I couldn’t explain. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was magnetic, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.But tonight, it wasn’t just her strength or her sharp tongue that caught my attention. It was her vulnerability, the way her body stiffened under the watchful eyes of those twisted old men in the room. Their gazes lingered on her like predators sizing up prey, and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to lose it there and then. I clenched my fists, fighting back the rage boiling inside me. This wasn’t the time or place. I had to play the part, no matter how much it sickened me. When the bidding began, I raised my paddle without hesitation. I wasn’t bidding for art; I was protecting her from the leering eyes of monsters.When the hammer fell and the art was “mine,” I felt a twisted mix of relief and disgust.
“Daphne? Don’t panic.”I tried to respond, but my voice came out raspy, my throat tightening as though invisible hands were choking me. I gasped, desperate for air, as the room began to spin. My mind slipped into the past—dark, horrifying memories clawing their way to the surface.I was back in the stone room, surrounded by cold, damp walls that whispered torment. We were tied, naked, and broken. We didn’t dare believe escape was possible. Our captors paraded us like art, like objects. They said they were bidding on portraits, but we knew better. They were bidding on lives.My legs refused to move. I stood rooted to the spot, my trembling hands betraying the anxiety creeping in. It felt as if taking even one step closer to reality would shatter the fragile illusion that I’d escaped that life. What if I never truly had? What if this life—my freedom, my hope, Sebastian—was all a lie? A cruel trick my mind played to survive?“Was I even real?” I whispered to myself. My breath hitched. “I
I stared at the mirror, barely recognizing the face reflected back at me. My skin was pale, my lips painted deep red, and my eyes hollow but sharp. I settled for a ball gown, enough to hide my baby bump. Elegant and dangerous, this wasn’t me. It couldn’t be. But tonight, I had to be someone else —I had to be Claire. “Daphne.” Sebastian’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “Are you there?” He called out from the miniature transmitter he gave me in a pin form. “Nate will be there,” he said quietly. “Stay close, blend in, and follow my lead.” I nodded, forcing down the lump in my throat. I couldn’t mess this up. I went down to the living room my heard thundering, and heels clicking against the floor. I had threatened Claire to stay and pretend to be me. It was cold and silent, the ticking clock pounding in rhythm with my heartbeat. Every breath was tight in my chest as I waited, shoulders straight, fingers trembling at my sides. Footsteps echoed behind me. “Claire.”
“I… I…” My voice faltered as my breath hitched. “Daphne? Is everything alright?” Sebastian’s voice cut through the mic, steadying me. I straightened my posture, forcing control back into my trembling hands. “Richard?” I snapped, turning to face the butler. “You caught me off guard.” His eyes widened, and his hands shook slightly. “Miss Claire… I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He bowed his head respectfully. I bit back a laugh, savoring the rush of dominance. Since my return, I’d noticed Claire had dyed her hair back to brunette, making us nearly identical again. Apparently, not even Richard could tell the difference. Lifting my chin, I channeled Claire’s practiced poise and walked out of the room, heart drumming in my chest like a distant war drum. Back in my room, I locked the door and retrieved the stolen documents, snapping photos and sending them to Sebastian. His reply came quickly: We need to act fast. Time isn’t on our side. Collapsing onto the bed, I FaceTi
It was the next day already, I was left yet again alone in the house. Father and mother were invited by the Stones for a buisness negotiation, while Claire is out to see her “doctor.” I knew she was up to something.Currently standing outside my father’s office, my palms were slick with sweat. The hallway was deathly quiet, My heart pounded so hard I thought it might echo through the empty corridor.I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the small lockpick set Sebastian insisted I carry. My fingers trembled as I held the cold metal. Memories of my father’s punishments clawed at my mind, the only times I came here was when I did something wrong or received scoldings. The slaps, harsh condescending words, and unforgiving eyes, always compare Claire and me. This was his space. I was never supposed to be here.Suddenly, Sebastian’s calm voice crackled in my ear through the tiny microphone he’d given me.“You’ve got this, Daphne. Slow breaths. In and out.”I inhaled sharply, holdi
“Yes, you heard me right. I’m six months pregnant… and it’s a boy.”The room went silent. The air felt heavy like the walls themselves were holding their breath. Claire’s face turned ashen, her eyes widening as she struggled back to sit up.“That’s… that’s not possible,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “But…”I folded my arms, keeping my voice steady though my chest felt tight. “What’s not possible, Claire? That I’m pregnant? Or that you all thought I couldn’t have children?”I turned to my father, who stood stiff and unreadable, as always. “Nathaniel is investigating Dr. Matthews. It seems he’s been deliberately giving us false results… like he’s working for someone.” I stepped forward, holding my father’s gaze. “So… please, Dad… I’ll need your help.”His expression darkened a bit, the sharp edge of suspicion flashed in his eyes, but he said nothing.Claire squirmed like a cornered animal, her hands trembling at her sides. “N-No… don’t.” Her voice was thin, almost a plea. She looked
She let out a blood-curdling scream, her voice echoing through the house as she gripped her ears, her body shaking. The smirk that had been playing on my lips vanished instantly, replaced by shock. “Miss Claire!” Richard rushed to her side, his face pale. “Claire… Are you okay?” “No! No! Stay the hell away from me!” she shouted, her voice frantic, her legs kicking as she writhed on the floor in a fit of hysteria. I could hear frantic footsteps pounding the hallway, and the door flew open. “What is—” Her sentence was cut short when she gasped, covering her mouth. “Daphne? You’re alive?” I could hardly believe it myself. “Mother, Father!” I cried, running to them. I fell into their arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “I never thought I’d see you again.” “Are you okay? What happened? How?” Father croaked, his voice strained as he looked me over, his gaze scanning me as though he couldn’t believe I was standing before him. “You… You’re alive.” “Yes, Father, I’m alive.” But before I could
“Please, take care of yourself, okay?” Maryam cried, pulling me into a tight hug. Her voice was shaky with concern as she wrapped her arms around me. “Eat well… and take care of Alex too.” “I will, I promise,” I whispered, squeezing her tightly. I couldn’t help but feel my heart break as I hugged her back. “Eww, get your snorty body off me,” I fake-gagged, making her laugh and slap my arms lightly. I turned to Ella, who was standing just behind Maryam. Kneeling down in front of her, I pulled her into a warm hug and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to miss you, my Ella bear. I’ll FaceTime you every day, okay?” “Okkkk,” she replied with a cheerful smile, wrapping her little arms around me. She wiped away the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. “Big girls don’t cry, Daphne.” I pinched her cheek, dragging it playfully. “You’re right, I’m not a big girl,” I teased, giving her a wink. My heart ached at the thought of leaving her, but I knew I couldn’t back out now. After a brie