Sienna Clark’s life took a sharp turn when her brother, driving under the influence, hit the wife of the wealthy Elijah Morgan. The accident caused her to miscarry and left her infertile, resulting in her brother being sentenced to prison. Desperate to secure his release, Sienna agreed to Elijah’s conditions and moved into a house he arranged.

The first night was shrouded in darkness, with only faint moonlight illuminating his face. His striking features were sculpted like a god’s, distant and untouchable. He carried a cool, intoxicating scent, and his voice, low and velvety, asked her softly, "How old are you?"

Overwhelmed with pain, she couldn’t answer and bit his shoulder in frustration. He groaned, a sound both sharp and restrained, before his actions grew harsher. Elijah was a man of undeniable power, and after only a few encounters, she found herself pregnant. Ten months later, she gave birth to a robust, healthy boy.

Sienna, barely more than a girl herself, became a mother before she could even process the reality of her situation. The burden was heavy, and though she had only wanted to fulfill her part and leave, the child tethered her heart.

The baby was allergic to formula and could only tolerate breast milk, binding Sienna further. A month of feeding him, of holding him close, intertwined her blood and soul with his in a way she couldn’t escape.

On the eve of the confinement period’s end, Elijah appeared again. He was in his early thirties, tall and imposing, his tailored dark suit outlining his strong frame. Sharp eyes glinted beneath his glasses, piercing through her defenses. His voice, low and magnetic, carried a seductive edge.

"Sienna," he said, "do you want to stay with your son?"

Hope flickered in her eyes, but she clenched her resolve and shook her head. "No. I won’t be a mistress."

"Not a mistress," Elijah replied, his words deliberate, "but a wet nurse."

"A wet nurse?" she echoed, her lips trembling as she repeated the term. A spark of longing ignited within her.

"Does that mean… I don’t have to leave him?"

The man nodded, his eyes flashing with steely determination.

But Sienna had been too naive to understand the full extent of his words. Being a "wet nurse," as he put it, entailed far more than simply feeding the child.

That night, Elijah approached her with his usual calm demeanor, his hand settling firmly on her shoulder. He pinched lightly, as if testing her resolve, before saying in an unyielding tone, “Take off your clothes.”

By morning, he was gone, leaving her alone to face the aftermath. As she washed up, her reflection in the mirror confronted her with bruises—faint purple marks tracing the path of his loss of control. Her cheeks burned in memory of the night before.

At first, she had resisted, her pride clinging to the idea that this was no different from being kept as his mistress. But Elijah was nothing if not skilled—both with his actions and his words. It wasn’t long before her defenses crumbled, and all she could do was clutch him tightly and cry.

Afterwards, he held her close, his voice low and coaxing, “Don’t think too much. Whether it’s once or countless times, it’s all the same. This way, you can stay with the baby and help your brother get out sooner.”

His reasoning hit its mark. Sienna couldn’t deny the truth of his words. Her parents’ untimely deaths had left her brother as her only family. He had raised her, paid for her education, and treated her like a cherished princess. If this was what it took to repay him, how could she refuse?

Yet, as she watched Elijah’s satisfied expression that night, a bitter thought crept in—she had been outmaneuvered from the start.

From then on, Elijah moved into the villa. Apart from his necessary social engagements, he returned each evening to spend time with her and the baby. It became a routine she both cherished and feared.

When she saw him cradling their child in one arm, while reading through documents with the other, an unbidden illusion would arise—that they were a family of three, bound not just by circumstance but by love.

Yet she knew this life was borrowed, stolen even, and that one day, the price for it would have to be paid.

That day came sooner than expected, when an uninvited guest arrived at the small villa.

Sienna froze as she opened the door to face Courtney, Elijah’s wife.

This wasn’t their first meeting. The last time she had seen her, Courtney was sprawled in a pool of blood, her pallor ghostly white. Now, though, she was radiant—her skin glowing from meticulous care, her figure as graceful and striking as that of a supermodel.

Standing before Courtney, Sienna felt small and insignificant, like a clownfish swimming beside a shark.

Elijah’s mother arrived unannounced, accompanied by Courtney. Without warning, she shoved Sienna aside and demanded arrogantly, “Hand over my grandson.”

Sienna steadied herself, swallowing her anger. She spoke as respectfully as she could manage. “Madam Nancy, the child is still very young and needs breast milk. Elijah agreed that I could care for him a little longer.”

Her words barely left her lips when Nancy, Elijah’s mother, slapped her hard. The force of the blow sent her reeling, leaving a burning imprint on her cheek.

“You shameless woman!” Nancy spat, her voice dripping with venom. “You’re nothing but a tool for giving birth. Even if Elijah has any interest in you, it’s just a fleeting novelty. Don’t think for a second you’re anything more than that.”

Courtney stepped forward, her voice soft as if trying to calm the situation. “Mom, don’t be so angry. She’s still young. Let’s explain it to her calmly.”

Nancy sneered, her anger unrelenting. “Young? She’s already an expert at seducing men at this age. Courtney, you’ve always had too kind a heart. I’ve told you before, the one thing I can’t stand is a mistress.”

Courtney’s face turned pale, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Mom, I’m just… afraid of Elijah.”

“Afraid? What’s there to fear? If the sky falls, I’ll hold it up for you.” Nancy turned back to Sienna. “Now, give me the child. We’re leaving.”

Sienna’s heart pounded in panic. She knew if they took the baby, it would be near impossible to get him back. Desperately, she reached for the child, engaging in a tug-of-war with Courtney.

In a calculated move, Courtney let go of the child. The baby, barely a month old, fell to the floor with a heart-stopping thud. He let out a single cry, piercing the room like a knife, before falling silent.

Horrified, Sienna froze for a moment, then rushed forward, desperate to check on the child.

Nancy erupted in fury. “You vile woman! How dare you throw my grandson? I’ll kill you!”

As she lunged toward Sienna, chaos ensued. Sienna, frantic to get to the baby, pushed Nancy aside. The older woman stumbled, her forehead striking the sharp corner of the table.

A bloodcurdling scream filled the room as Nancy crumpled to the floor, clutching her head. Hot blood trickled down her face, spilling into her eyes.

Courtney’s voice trembled with panic. “Mom! You’re bleeding! Don’t move—I’ll take you to the hospital. Please, hold on!”

Courtney showed no concern for the child. Instead, she focused on helping Nancy, guiding her out of the villa without a backward glance.

Sienna’s hands trembled as she picked up the baby. His tiny face was pale, his lips tinged with blue. He cried weakly, his little voice barely audible. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gently cradled him, pressing her face close to his, softly murmuring, “It’s okay, baby, Mommy’s here.”

Still, the fear gnawed at her. She couldn’t risk anything—she needed to get him to a hospital. Barefoot and frantic, she hailed a taxi, holding the baby tightly against her chest.

At the hospital, the doctor reassured her that the baby was fine, but the ordeal had left him shaken. Relieved yet exhausted, Sienna sat in the hallway to catch her breath. She realized then that in her rush, she had sprained her ankle. Wincing, she limped to the pharmacy to get some medicine, only to freeze in her tracks when she saw Courtney.

Sienna’s first instinct was to approach her, to apologize to Nancy despite everything, but she hesitated. If she made things worse, it might affect her child’s safety. Gritting her teeth, she decided against it and returned home silently.

That night, the baby was restless. His small body was wracked with a fever, and he vomited milk several times. Sienna stayed by his side, rocking him gently, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth, and whispering soothing words. She didn’t sleep, not even a moment, until dawn began to break.

When she finally closed her eyes, exhaustion pulling her under, the sound of heavy footsteps jolted her awake.

Opening her eyes, she saw Elijah standing at the door, his expression dark and foreboding.

Before she could utter a word, he grabbed her wrist, his grip like iron. “Come with me.”

He dragged her into the next room, his movements sharp and unforgiving. Once inside, he slammed the door shut, then pushed her onto the bed. His tall frame loomed over her as he pinned her down.

“Sienna,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve gotten bold.”

Sienna shrank beneath him, her heart pounding. “Elijah, you’ve misunderstood. Let me explain—”

He cut her off, grabbing her hands and pressing them against the pillow, trapping her completely. “I hate excuses,” he said coldly.

“I didn’t hurt her intentionally,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I would never—”

“You didn’t?” His sneer was like a dagger to her chest. “Then what about my mother? Do you think I’ll believe a word you say?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to—”

But her voice faltered as she met his gaze, filled with mockery and disdain. He didn’t believe her. He never would. To him, she was nothing more than a tool—a vessel for his child, a convenient scapegoat.

Her throat tightened as his hand brushed her neck, his grip lingering with an unspoken threat.

In that moment, Sienna thought bitterly: If he strangles me now, it’ll all be over. No more pain, no more humiliation.

Without warning, Elijah tore off her thin pajamas, his actions cold and devoid of care. The sharp, unrelenting pain tore through Sienna, forcing cold sweat to bead on her forehead. She didn’t dare make a sound. Her teeth bit down hard on her lower lip, drawing blood, while her trembling fingers gripped the bed sheets tightly, her knuckles turning white.

Each passing moment felt like an eternity. Just when she thought she might lose consciousness from the agony, he leaned down and crushed her lips with his own, his kiss as cold and suffocating as his presence. It wasn’t an act of comfort; it was domination, a brutal reminder of her powerlessness.

For a fleeting second, Sienna truly believed he intended to destroy her completely—body and soul.

When he was finally done, he left her discarded on the bed without a second glance. The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom as she lay motionless, her body trembling from the ordeal.

When Elijah returned, freshly dressed and composed, he tossed her clothes at her without care, his tone sharp and impatient. “You have ten minutes. Get up and go to the hospital with me to apologize.”

...

In the hospital ward, Elijah pushed Sienna forward and said firmly, “Apologize to my mother.”

Nancy frowned in disdain, her tone cutting. “Tell her to get out and stop causing trouble for me.”

“Mom,” Elijah said smoothly, a calculated calmness in his voice. “The doctor mentioned the baby is weak and needs breastfeeding. I left the child in her care, and it’s my fault for not clarifying things sooner. This misunderstanding is on me.”

He subtly nudged Sienna, signaling her to speak. Panicked, she quickly stammered, “Madam, I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Nancy let out a huff, but seeing her son take responsibility, she relented. She shot Sienna a scornful look before turning her attention back to him. “You’re supporting her now?”

Elijah met her gaze without flinching, lying with perfect ease. “Support her? Of course not. Who started such baseless rumors?”

His mother’s sharp eyes shifted to Courtney, who froze under the weight of her gaze. Courtney’s face paled, and she quickly lowered her head, her hands trembling slightly.

Satisfied, Elijah turned back to his mother, his authoritative tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll keep an eye on her and the child myself. Surely, you have no objections to that, right?”

Nancy thought for a moment before speaking, her tone softer but still firm. “Then let her live in the Morgan Family home. It’ll prevent further gossip and rumors.”

Sienna’s heart sank, her watery eyes darting to Elijah. Desperation filled her gaze, silently pleading for him to refuse. She knew living under the same roof as Nancy and Courtney would be a nightmare.

But Elijah remained unmoved. Ignoring her silent protest, he nodded decisively. “Fine. She’ll move in with the child tomorrow.”

Outside the ward, Sienna finally found her voice. “Do I really have to go? Can’t I stay where I am?”

Elijah’s response was ice-cold. “No. You don’t have a choice.”

Her lips quivered as she bit back tears, her voice barely above a whisper. “But—”

“Do you want to lose the child?” he interrupted sharply, his words a blade to her heart.

Sienna clenched her fists, her voice trembling as she asked, “And my brother...?”

When Sienna mentioned her brother, Elijah’s lips curled into a chilling smile, one that sent shivers down her spine. It wasn’t a smile of amusement but one cold and bloodthirsty, sharp enough to cut through her resolve.

“I forgot to tell you,” he drawled, his tone laced with cruel indifference. “I’ve heard your brother isn’t doing too well in there. In fact, he might not survive.”

Sienna’s legs buckled as a wave of panic washed over her. Desperation overtook her, and she clung to his shirt as though it was her lifeline. “Please,” she begged, her voice trembling, “don’t do anything to him. He didn’t mean for the car accident to happen. Please, I’m begging you.”

Elijah’s expression darkened, and in a swift motion, he pinned her against the wall. His sharp, piercing eyes bore into hers, leaving no room for hope. “Sienna,” he said slowly, his voice like a blade against her skin, “if you want your brother to stay alive, you will do exactly as I say.”

Her heart sank, and an icy dread spread through her veins. She felt trapped, regretting every choice that had led her to this moment. She didn’t want to continue this nightmare, to be reduced to nothing more than a wet nurse and a pawn. But she had no escape. Her brother’s life depended on her submission.

Without another word, Sienna left, her steps heavy with resignation, and began packing her belongings.

The next morning, Elijah’s assistant arrived in a sleek black car to escort her and the child. The vehicle glided through the city streets before arriving at Orchid Grove, the Morgan Family estate.

As the massive black iron gates creaked shut behind her, Sienna felt a suffocating weight settle over her chest. The estate was grand, sprawling, but to her, it felt like a gilded cage—her freedom now locked away with an uncertain fate.

The housekeeper, a middle-aged woman with a rigid posture and an icy demeanor, met her at the door. Without sparing a glance at Sienna, she led her into the nursery.

“This is the young sir’s room,” the housekeeper said curtly. “Take good care of him. Do your job and don’t cause any trouble.”

Sienna lowered her head, biting back a retort. She placed her luggage in a corner and carefully lifted the baby into her arms. His small, fragile frame stirred her heart, but it also reminded her of her predicament—her tether to the Morgan Family’s cruelty.

The Morgan mansion was eerily silent, its vast halls echoing with emptiness. With Nancy still in the hospital, the oppressive stillness felt even more pronounced. Every shadow seemed to loom, every corner a reminder of the cage she was now confined to.