Tyron’s words echoed in my head, a dizzying storm of confusion and disbelief.
“I had you kidnapped.”
My body turned cold. My stomach twisted in knots as I stared at him, waiting—hoping—I had misheard. But no. He looked at me with guilty eyes, confirming the unthinkable.
Tears burned down my cheeks. “W-Why?” My voice cracked, my hands trembling as I clenched my fists.
Tyron inhaled sharply, then, without warning, he pulled me into a desperate hug. His body shook against mine, and I felt something wet land on my shoulder. He was crying.
“Because… because this is the only way I can get my inheritance,” he choked out. “My father… He has Stage 4 cancer. If I don’t prove I have a heir, he’ll leave everything to my step-brother. That's why I fucking need you. My father only wants you."
I struggled against him, anger boiling inside me. “So that’s all this is to you? A business deal?” I shoved him away, glaring at him through my tears.
He swallowed hard, his eyes begging for something—understanding, forgiveness, anything. “Gabbi, please… Just stay. Give birth to our child. Then, if you want to leave… I won’t stop you.”
I let out a bitter laugh, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “You expect me to trust you after everything?”
Tyron stepped closer, his voice cracking. “I swear. After the baby is born, you can go. I won’t force you to stay.”
I searched his face, trying to find a trace of sincerity. A part of me wanted to scream, fight, escape—but where would I go? I had no one left.
So, against my better judgment, I nodded. “Fine. But once I give birth, I’m leaving.”
Tyron exhaled in relief and, without another word, led me to his car.
Months passed, and I played my role—the obedient, pregnant fiancée. Tyron provided everything I needed, from medical check-ups to expensive maternity clothes. But something never sat right.
There was an uneasiness in his home. A darkness beneath the surface.
I had learned to trust my instincts. And they told me one thing—something was very, very wrong.
So, I started investigating.
It started small. Checking his drawers, listening closely to his phone calls, observing the way his employees interacted with him. The more I searched, the more the knots in my stomach tightened.
And then, one night, I heard it.
A woman’s moans.
I froze outside Tyron’s study, my heart hammering in my chest. I knew that sound. Knew what it meant.
I pressed my ear against the wooden door, listening.
“Are you sure she won’t find out?” the woman’s voice purred.
Tyron chuckled. “She’s too busy carrying my child. She won’t suspect a thing.”
My breath caught in my throat. My hands curled into fists as a hot wave of anger and betrayal surged through me.
I should’ve known.
All I ask is respect!
Memories of our past relationship flashed in my mind—how he always made me feel like I wasn’t enough. The way he’d glance at other women when he thought I wasn’t looking. The way he’d lie, manipulate, and twist every situation to his advantage.
And here I was, trapped once again in his twisted game.
I should’ve never agreed to this.
The stress took its toll on me.
Weeks passed, and my body felt weaker. My stomach cramped painfully, and I began bleeding. At first, I ignored it, convincing myself it was nothing.
But then, one night, I collapsed.
Tyron rushed me to the hospital, his face unreadable as he paced outside the examination room.
The doctor frowned as he reviewed my tests. “Your body is under extreme stress, Ms. Ziu. The trauma is affecting your pregnancy. If this continues… you could lose the baby.”
I barely reacted. Maybe that would be for the best.
Tyron, however, was furious.
The moment we returned home, he slammed the door shut and turned to me, his jaw clenched.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted. “You’re not even taking care of our baby properly!”
I snapped.
“I’M NOT TAKING CARE OF THE BABY?!” My voice shook with rage. “Maybe I would if I wasn’t so busy listening to you screw another woman in the next room!”
Tyron stilled. His eyes darkened, but for once, he didn’t deny it.
I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “You haven’t changed at all. You always made me feel like I was never enough. Even when we were together, you made me doubt myself—made me feel small.” My voice cracked, but I forced myself to keep going. “And now, you expect me to carry your child while you sleep around?”
Tyron’s lips curled into something unreadable. “This was never about love, Gabbi.”
His words cut deep.
He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “This is just business.”
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. A small, stupid part of me had hoped—hoped that maybe, just maybe, I had meant something to him.
But no.
To him, I was nothing more than a means to an end.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
My mind was restless, replaying every red flag, every warning sign I had ignored.
Then, as I lay in bed, I heard something.
Tyron’s voice.
I slowly sat up, straining my ears. He was talking to someone on the phone in the next room.
“…The baby will be mine once she gives birth.”
My blood ran cold.
I know right.
I tiptoed toward the door, pressing myself against the wall.
A second voice—Jerry, one of Tyron’s closest friends—spoke. “And after that? What about Gabbi?”
Tyron sighed. “She won’t be a problem.”
A pause.
Then—
“I’ll kill her.”
We didn't talk about this.
My breath hitched. My body turned to ice.
I felt the world tilt beneath me as my worst fears came true.
And then, Jerry’s next words sent pure terror through my veins.
“You’re really going to do the same thing you did to her father?”
