Lashirah_Hash

She thought she was free.

Until a billionaire and his daughter saw her — and decided she was theirs.

One wanted a wife.
The other wanted a mother.
Neither asked if she agreed.

They watched her for two years. Followed her every move.
Until one day, they flew across the world and bought her future — with smiles, paperwork, and charm that smelled like roses but felt like chains.

Now, she sleeps in silk sheets she didn’t choose.
Wears clothes she didn’t buy.
Answers to a name she didn’t earn.

Every touch is a test.
Every night is a transaction.
And every whispered “I love you” is a warning.

She hides pills beneath her tongue.
She dreams of running.
But there is no escape — only a cage made of wealth, obsession, and unbearable intimacy.

Because he doesn’t just want her body.
He wants her compliance.
Her mind.
Her loyalty.
Her womb.

And when the daughter discovers the truth —
she doesn’t cry.
She accuses.

Now the doors are locked.
The smiles are gone.
And the only thing more terrifying than being watched…
is being needed.

This isn’t love.
This is possession with a wedding ring.
This is family, twisted into obsession.
This is what happens when a girl becomes the answer to someone else's madness.

THE WIFE,THE MOTHER,THE PRISONER

Roman hadn't slept since the day she arrived.

Not because he couldn't, but because he didn't want to miss a single second.

She was most beautiful in silence — pacing, frowning, touching objects with hesitation like they might bite. He had memorized every movement. When she brushed her thumb over the chipped rim of the mug. When she folded her hands in her lap before eating, like she still believed in something greater than herself. When she stood beneath the vent and tilted her head like she was trying to feel the outside.

He kept the surveillance wall dimmed now — preferred the night-vision green hue. It made her skin glow like something divine. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his mouth.

"She's not fighting hard enough," Lelo muttered, curled like a cat on the rug behind him.

The corner where the light flickered once every eleven seconds. The tray slot that clicked exactly four minutes before food arrived. The narrow seam where the wall didn't quite align — just behind the wardrobe. The vent in the ceiling that she could reach if she stacked the mattress upright.

Fear had frozen into something quieter. Sharper.

She started keeping a log — not written, but etched in the underside of the bedframe with a dull spoon. Symbols. Ticks. Scratches.

She tapped walls to feel for hollowness.

She whispered to herself — not out of madness, but to remember the sound of her own voice.

> "Every cage has a crack," she murmured. "Even if you have to bleed to find it."

He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes.

Lelo didn't even look up. "She's trying to escape."

"She doesn't understand yet. This isn't a prison, Lelo. This is her resurrection. Her old world died. We buried it for her."

Lelo just drew on the hardwood with chalk — a picture of Serene with Xs over her eyes and hearts on her cheeks.

"She's still thinking like prey," Lelo said. "But I don't want a prey. I want a mother."

His reflection caught in the glass. Cold. Focused.

"She'll be both," he said. "Soon."

KNOCKING FROM INSIDE