“H-Help! I got stabbed!”

The desperate cry sliced through the quiet hospital halls, freezing me mid-step. My heart pounded, my grip tightening on the clipboard I was holding. That voice—familiar, agonized, desperate.

My stomach twisted. I turned and sprinted toward the source of the sound, my shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor. The cold hospital air felt suffocating as dread clawed at my throat.

And then, I saw him.

My father.

Lying on the cold tiles, his white shirt soaked in blood, a knife embedded deep in his stomach. His face was contorted in pain, sweat dripping down his temples.

“Dad!” My voice cracked as I stumbled toward him, falling to my knees. I reached out, my hands hovering over the wound, unsure whether to press down or pull the knife out.

His trembling fingers grasped my wrist, his grip weak but urgent. “G-Gabbi… Run.” His voice was barely a whisper, but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable.

“No! I won't leave you!” My vision blurred with tears. “Somebody help us!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my body shaking uncontrollably.

Footsteps pounded against the floor, and soon, a team of nurses and doctors swarmed around us. I was forced back as they lifted him onto a stretcher and rushed him into the emergency room.

I followed, my heart hammering as I watched them try to save him. Every beep of the monitor, every hurried command, every compression on his chest—it all blurred together in a haze of panic and desperation.

Minutes turned into hours. And then, the Doctor walked out, his face grim.

“I’m sorry… We did everything we could.”

My world shattered.

A strangled sob ripped from my throat. I barely registered my legs giving out beneath me as I collapsed onto the hospital bench.

Dead.

My father was dead.

I don’t remember how I finished my shift. I was just… numb. My body moved on autopilot, my mind drowning in grief.

When my shift finally ended, I walked out of the hospital, the night air biting against my skin. The parking lot was nearly empty, the streetlights casting long shadows.

My hands shook as I reached for my car keys, but a strange feeling crept up my spine. The air felt too still.

Then—footsteps.

Slow. Measured.

A shiver crawled down my neck. My heart pounded as I turned—

But before I could react, a cloth pressed against my mouth.

A sickly-sweet scent filled my nostrils. My body jerked in panic, my arms flailing, but my limbs grew weaker with every second. My vision swam. The world tilted.

Then—darkness.

I woke up to the blinding glare of surgical lights. My head pounded, my throat dry and scratchy. I tried to move, but my body felt… off.

Something was wrong.

The room smelled sterile—antiseptic and something else. A deep, gut-wrenching sense of dread coiled in my stomach.

I forced myself to sit up, my limbs sluggish, my mind foggy. And that’s when I saw him.

A doctor.

He stood at the foot of the operating table, scribbling on a clipboard. His face was unreadable, detached.

“What… happened to me?” My voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

He glanced at me, then calmly removed his gloves. “The procedure was successful.”

Procedure?

A chill ran through me. My fingers gripped the hospital gown I was wearing, realization dawning like a slow, creeping horror.

My private part ached. An unfamiliar soreness throbbed between my legs.

No. No. No.

A scream built in my throat, but no sound came out. My entire body trembled as I forced the words past my lips.

“What did you do to me?”

The doctor didn’t flinch. Didn’t show a shred of remorse. “You’ve been inseminated.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Inseminated.

The word echoed in my skull, pounding against my brain like a cruel, twisted joke.

“No…” My voice broke. “No, no, no!” I tried to move, to fight, but my body was still weak.

The doctor simply turned and walked out, leaving me alone with my nightmare.

Days blurred into weeks.

I was trapped in that place, watched by nurses who never answered my questions. My body felt different. My mind was unraveling.

Then, the nausea started.

Violent, gut-wrenching sickness that sent me crawling to the toilet every morning.

A nurse noticed. She handed me a pregnancy test.

I stared at it, my fingers trembling. My entire body felt ice-cold.

When I saw the result, my stomach dropped.

Positive.

I was pregnant.

Terror gripped me. I didn’t know who had done this to me. I didn’t know what was growing inside me.

I wanted it gone.

Desperation took hold of me, and I tried everything. I slammed my body against the walls. I swallowed pills when no one was looking. I even tried to cut myself open with a piece of broken glass.

Nothing worked.

The baby survived.

I was trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

And so, I decided—there was only one way out.

The rooftop was cold beneath my bare feet. The wind howled, tugging at my thin hospital gown.

I stood at the edge, staring down at the empty pavement below. My heart pounded, my mind screaming at me to just do it.

No more pain. No more nightmares.

I took a deep breath. Then, I stepped forward—

A strong hand yanked me back.

I crashed into a warm chest, my body trembling as arms wrapped around me.

“Don’t,” a deep voice murmured against my ear.

That voice.

My breath hitched as I turned to look at him.

Tyron Carter.

My ex-husband.

He held me tightly, his grip firm, his dark eyes filled with something unreadable.

“I won’t let you do this,” he whispered.

Tears burned down my cheeks. “Why do you care?” I choked out.

His jaw clenched. “Because…” He swallowed hard. “That child… is mine.”

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?”

I just stayed quiet. Until my labor came.

The cold night air burned my lungs as I ran, my arms wrapped tightly around my newborn son. My hospital gown fluttered behind me, soaked in sweat and blood, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Every muscle in my body screamed in exhaustion, but the fear in my veins was stronger.

I had to get out. I had to survive.

The hospital’s dimly lit hallways had been my prison for months, a place where I was constantly watched, monitored, and controlled. Tyron had made it clear—once I gave birth, he would take the baby, and I would be nothing but a problem to get rid of.

But I wasn’t going to let him win.

My heart pounded violently against my ribcage as I pushed through the emergency exit. The blaring sirens echoed in the parking lot, slicing through the silence of the night. My breath came in ragged gasps as I stumbled forward, my son’s fragile body warm against my chest.

Keep running, Gabbi. Keep moving.

Then I heard it—the heavy thud of approaching footsteps.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

I froze, my blood turning to ice.

Jerry.

He stood by the exit, his arms crossed, his smirk filled with amusement. His bulky frame blocked my path, the dim glow of the streetlamp casting eerie shadows over his sharp features.

My fingers curled around the fabric of my baby’s blanket. He was still so tiny, so fragile. He needed me to protect him.

Swallowing my fear, I forced my lips into a trembling smile. “I-I just needed fresh air.”

Jerry chuckled darkly. “Fresh air, huh? You think I’m an idiot?”

My stomach twisted. Think, Gabbi. Think.

He took a step forward. “Tyron said you’d try this. That’s why I’m here. Hmm... now you can't deny it. I caught you with video."

Panic surged through me, gripping me so tightly that my breath hitched. Tyron had been expecting me to run. He had planned for this.

But so had I.

Without another thought, I ran.

Jerry cursed behind me, his heavy footsteps slamming against the pavement as he chased after me. My legs ached, my stitches from labor screaming in protest, but I forced myself to move faster.

I can’t let them take him. I won’t.

The road ahead was empty, the town asleep in the dead of night. I had nowhere to go, but stopping meant death.

Then, suddenly—a black car screeched to a halt in front of me.

For a brief, paralyzing moment, I thought it was Tyron’s men. My heart slammed against my ribs, my feet skidding to a stop.

Then the window rolled down.

Dr. Reyes.

“Get in!” she yelled.

I didn’t hesitate. Clutching my baby tightly, I threw myself into the backseat. The second the door slammed shut, Dr. Reyes hit the gas, the tires screeching as we sped away.

Through the rear window, I saw Jerry standing in the middle of the road, his phone pressed to his ear. He was calling Tyron.

We had no time.

She was my doctor.

Dr. Reyes was helpful. At that time, I wasn't sure if she's willing to help me nor if he understand my internal conflicts even though I didn't tell her.

Four Years Later.

The small town was nestled deep in the mountains, a place forgotten by time. The scent of pine and damp earth filled the air, a stark contrast to the sterile walls of the hospital I once called home.

For the past four years, I had lived as a ghost. No bank accounts. No social media. No contact with anyone from my past. It was the only way to keep Axel safe.

My son—my little Axel.

My biggest regret? Is that I'm not ready to become a Mom. But now it's ride or die. I can't let Tyron to kill me after my pregnancy.

We started a simple life in a small town. I was suffering financially and physically.

He was four now, full of life and energy. He had my eyes, dark and wide, always filled with curiosity. But his smirk… that damn smirk… it was Tyron’s. A painful reminder of the man I once trusted.

I knelt beside him, helping him tie his shoelaces as he giggled. “Mommy, are we going to the bakery today?”

I smiled, ruffling his soft brown hair. “Of course, sweetheart. But only if you behave.”

He pouted dramatically. “I always behave.”

I laughed, my chest swelling with love. He’s my entire world.

For years, I had been looking over my shoulder, expecting Tyron’s shadow to appear. But maybe… just maybe… he had given up. Maybe he had moved on.

But safety was an illusion.

That night, as I tucked Axel into bed, my phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

My heart pounded as I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the screen. No one has this number.

Swallowing hard, I answered.

A familiar voice slid through the speaker like a knife to my chest.

“You really thought you could hide from me forever, Gabbi?”

My blood turned to ice.

Tyron.

A choked breath left my lips. I gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. My throat dried up, but I forced myself to speak. “H-How did you find me?”

He chuckled, low and amused. “Did you really think you were smarter than me?”

My entire body trembled. Axel stirred in his sleep beside me, his small hand gripping my shirt. I held my breath, terrified that Tyron could somehow see us, that he was right outside my door.

“Stop this. I'll not give my son to you,” I lied, forcing my voice to stay steady.

Tyron sighed dramatically. “Gabbi, Gabbi… Let’s not play games. I’ve been looking for you for years. And now… I have.”

I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat. “What do you want?”

A pause. Then—

“My son.”

A sharp, suffocating fear wrapped around my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs.

“No,” I whispered.

Tyron’s voice turned cold. “You either bring him to me… or I’ll come get him myself.”

Tears burned my eyes, my entire body locking up in fear. I had fought so hard, sacrificed so much, just to keep Axel safe.

And now, Tyron was here.

The line went dead.

My hands shook as I dropped the phone, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. I reached for Axel, pressing a trembling kiss to his forehead.

I had one choice.

Run.

Again.