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

She existed in this place like mist—ungraspable, unbothered, untouched.

She still walked the halls like a polite guest.

Still smiled that hollow smile that tasted like paper and hope.

And that was her greatest mistake.

Gloria watched Serene from across the dining table with a new kind of venom. The kind of hatred that only blooms in women who feel invisible again.

"She's pretending," Gloria hissed to Roman that evening after dinner. "Like she's better than us. Like she doesn't want you."

Roman had only nodded, pouring himself another glass of brandy.

But something in the way he did it… something about how long he stared into the amber made her reach into her purse.

A fine silver packet. Crushed between her fingers. Dissolving into his drink without a sound.

Just enough to stir an old hunger.

Roman came in late — his shirt undone, veins like fire under pale skin, the taste of iron on his tongue. His eyes didn't settle.

Gloria rose from the bed like a woman ready to be claimed.

"I missed you," she whispered, the straps of her dress sliding from her shoulders.

She stepped forward. Touched his chest.

"Do you remember the last time?" she asked, voice sweet with perfume and old desire. "The way you said my name?"

Not Gloria. Not the ghost in front of him.

Bare shoulders. Closed eyes. A slight gasp when her fingers brushed the window in the mornings. Her mouth when she bit the edge of her pen. Her skin—black velvet wrapped in defiance.

But he was already walking out the door, chest rising and falling too fast, the ache in his body now sharpened into something cruel and focused.

Down the hall, Serene was brushing her hair by the mirror. Her sleeves pushed up. Her neck exposed.

She didn't hear the footsteps at first.

Not until they stopped behind her door.

"Roman?" she said, softly. "Is something—"

He crossed the room in three slow steps.

> "Don't smile at me like you've forgotten."

THE SMILE THAT SHATTERED -PART 1