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

But she walked like she was running from something.

Her feet moved fast, eyes darting across faces, reflections, shadows. Her chest tightened with every turn. Her scarf didn't sit right. Her bra felt too tight. Her heart… didn't settle.

Every man she passed wore Roman's eyes.

Every child's giggle echoed like Lelo's.

By the time she reached campus, her palms were damp.

And now… her stomach burned with one thought over and over:

> What if they test me? What if he wants to check if I'm carrying his obsession?

There were pharmacies on every block.

She walked past three on the way to class.

Each time her legs wanted to walk in.

Each time her spine screamed: You are being watched.

She saw no cameras. No guards. No threats.

Behind her eyes. Beneath her skin.

By the second lecture, she was trembling.

She couldn't focus. Couldn't write. Couldn't breathe through the memory of his body over hers. Inside hers. Whispering forever with his mouth and thrusts.

Her roommate plopped beside her with a loud sigh.

> "Girl, I need a detox," she said, rummaging through her bag. "Too many parties. Too many mistakes."

She pulled out a makeup pouch. It jangled.

Serene saw the flash of white and pink — a familiar bottle half-spilled with round pills inside.

She turned toward her with careful calm.

> "Hey, do you still have extras? Of those?"

> "I thought you weren't… you know."

"I'm not," Serene said too quickly. "I just… need them."

Serene smiled. It looked wrong even to her.

> "I'm just trying not to be someone's mistake."

The bottle hit her palm five minutes later.

And whispered in her head — not to God, but to herself:

> Hide them well. Swallow them fast. Don't give them what they want.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE PHARMACY