Ava's Pov As I walked out of the hospital, I couldn’t stop thinking about how this could have happened. Pregnant. Again. My hand instinctively went to the scar from my last miscarriage. That pregnancy wasn’t really mine—I had been reborn into this body, carrying the trauma of being raped. But this child, the one growing inside me now, was different. It was mine and Richard's, conceived in love The thought made my heart ache with fear. Could I handle this? Could I protect this life? Lost in these thoughts, I barely noticed the van screeching to a halt in front of me until three masked men jumped out, surrounding me before I could react. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice trembling. They didn’t answer, only moved in closer. Panic surged through me. Before I could scream, they grabbed me, lifting me off the ground and shoving me into the van. My cries for help were cut off as they sealed my mouth with tape and tied my hands. Inside the van, I struggled against the rop
Richard’s POV The house was a wreck. Or maybe it was just me. I couldn't tell anymore. My head was spinning, my vision blurred, and the stench of whiskey hung in the air, mingling with the stale odor of neglect. Empty bottles littered the floor, remnants of countless nights spent drowning in alcohol, hoping to numb the pain that clawed at my chest. I staggered across the living room, the world tilting with every step. My legs felt like they were made of lead, each movement heavy and unsteady. I reached for the bottle on the coffee table, my hand trembling as I lifted it to my lips. The burn of the whiskey as it slid down my throat was the only thing that felt real anymore, the only thing that reminded me I was still alive. How long had it been? Weeks? Months? Time had lost all meaning. Every day bled into the next, a relentless cycle of emptiness and despair. I’d done everything—called in every favor, dug into every dark corner of the underworld I knew, even begged for help f
Ava’s POV How long had it been? Days? Weeks? Months? Time had lost all meaning in this hellish place. The darkness was absolute, a suffocating blanket that pressed in on me from all sides, erasing the edges of my reality. The only indication that time was passing at all was the faint, muffled clink of the metal tray as food was slid through the slot in the door—once a day, or at least, I thought it was once a day. Even that was uncertain. I sat in the corner of the cold, damp room, my back pressed against the rough concrete wall. My legs were pulled up to my chest, my arms wrapped around my knees as I tried to keep warm. The thin, ragged dress I wore did little to protect me from the chill that seeped through the stone floor. My hair hung in limp, dirty strands around my face, a far cry from the carefully styled locks I once took pride in. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bathed. The smell of sweat and fear clung to me, mingling with the stale odor of the room, a smell I
Richard's POV Eight months. Eight long, torturous months since I last saw Ava. My mind barely registered the passing days anymore, each one bleeding into the next as the hope of finding her slowly slipped through my fingers. Yet here we were, on the way to a dilapidated car house, following a lead that might finally bring an end to this nightmare. The private detective we hired had finally come through, trailing Han’s every move. It turned out she had been visiting this particular place frequently, always cautious, always looking over her shoulder as if she knew someone might be watching. I felt like a fool for not thinking of it sooner, for not piecing together the clues that were now so glaringly obvious. How many times had I gone over every possible scenario in my head, only to overlook this crucial detail? The car bounced along the uneven road, the worn tires struggling against the gravel. Ava's father, a stoic man whose presence had become a strange comfort du
Ava's POV I heard the chaos outside long before I saw it—shouting, the crack of gunfire, the unmistakable sounds of a battle raging just beyond these walls. My heart pounded in my chest, the rapid thumping almost drowning out the noises. For a moment, I was frozen, unable to move, every muscle tensed with fear. But then I saw it. The door to my dark prison was ajar, left open by someone in their haste to join the fight. This was my chance. I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my unborn child pressing against my lungs. The pregnancy was making every movement a struggle, but I couldn’t afford to hesitate. I had to move. I had to get out of here. Carefully, I slid out of the small cot I’d been confined to, my legs shaking as I stood. The building was vast, and the hallways stretched endlessly in both directions, dimly lit and ominous. I didn’t know which way led to freedom, but staying here meant certain death. I had to try. I clutched my belly with one hand, the o
Richard's Pov It's been a week. Seven endless days since Ava slipped into a coma, and every single day, the world felt like it was unraveling. I could barely recognize her now—she looked so thin, so fragile, lying there with tubes and wires keeping her tethered to life. The doctor had said something about her needing to go into some kind of induced coma, but the words barely registered. All I could think about was her, lying there, unmoving, while I was expected to sit and watch.I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. It was a mess, just like everything else. My clothes were wrinkled, and I hadn’t bothered to shave in days. What did it matter? Nothing mattered if Ava didn’t wake up. The door to the hospital room opened, and the doctor walked in, his face a blend of concern and professionalism. He approached Ava’s bed, checking her monitors and gently placing a hand on her swollen belly. I watched him, every second feeling like an eterni
I held my newborn son close, feeling the weight of him in my arms. The doctors had congratulated me, saying both Ava and the baby had made it through the emergency C-section, but Ava was still in a coma. I looked down at him—he had her curly hair, her high cheekbones. The resemblance was so strong that it tugged at something deep inside me. His tiny hand reached up, his fingers curling around mine as he tried to bring them to his mouth. “Hey, little man,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. He squirmed, his small body wiggling in my grasp. There was a life in him, a spark that reminded me so much of Ava. As I stood there, lost in the moment, I heard the sound of small footsteps approaching. I turned just in time to see Tommy rush into the room, his face lit with curiosity and excitement. Behind him were his grandparents, giving me a nod as they let Tommy run ahead. “Papa!” Tommy’s voice was full of energy as he reached me. His eyes were wide as he looked at the baby
Richard's Pov I stood by the changing table, my hands steady as I carefully fastened the clean diaper on Anthony. His little legs kicked playfully in the air, and I couldn't help but smile as he cooed up at me, his tiny fingers grasping at the air. The scent of baby powder filled the room, mingling with the faint smell of fresh linens. As I finished securing the diaper, I heard Tommy's small voice pipe up from behind me. "Papa, all babies stink!" Tommy declared with the straightforward honesty only a five-year-old could muster. I chuckled, shaking my head. "You were the same when you were this little," I replied, turning to look at him. "And we still loved you all the same." Tommy giggled, his laughter filling the room with a warmth that made my heart swell. "I wasn't stinky like him!" he protested, though the mischievous twinkle in his eyes betrayed him. "You were," I insisted, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "And you did the same thing, kicking your legs and trying t