“H-Help me! I'm k-kidnapped…”

The voice on the other end of the call trembled with fear. I froze, my fingers hovering over the keyboard as I processed what I had just heard. It wasn’t just any distress call. It was Mae.

My heart pounded violently in my chest, but I kept my voice steady. “Ma’am, stay on the line with me. Can you tell me your location?”

I didn’t reveal who I was. If Mae realized I was her stepsister, she would break down, say her goodbyes, and lose whatever sliver of strength she had left. I needed her to hold on. I needed her to fight.

She sniffled. “I-I don’t know. It’s dark, and I—”

Her breath hitched. My fingers flew over the keyboard as I pulled up the call’s metadata, attempting to trace the origin. I activated the GPS tracking system, my eyes darting over the numbers and coordinates rapidly appearing on my screen. The location was coming through—slowly but surely.

Almost there. Just a few more seconds.

I typed in commands, my pulse matching the frantic rhythm of my thoughts. Latitude and longitude locked in. A rural area, deep in the outskirts of the city.

“Mae, listen to me. I need you to stay quiet but keep talking to me. Anything you hear, anything you see—describe it.”

“I—I hear footsteps,” she whimpered. “Please… please tell my family I love them.”

No. No, no, no.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let the panic seep into my voice. “Mae, don’t say that. We’re getting you out of there.”

A loud noise came through the call—shuffling, a muffled scream. Then silence.

The line went dead.

“No!” I gasped, slamming my hand against the desk. The tracking window blinked before disappearing. We lost all the data. The trace was gone.

My hands trembled as I desperately tried to recover the lost information, but it was useless. Whoever had taken Mae had severed the call at the worst possible moment. I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath hitching in my throat. Was she still alive? Had I just listened to her final words?

Tears welled up in my eyes, but before they could spill, my phone rang again. Another unknown number.

I inhaled sharply, forcing myself to switch back into professional mode. I swallowed my fear and picked up.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

A low chuckle echoed through the receiver, slow and deliberate. My stomach twisted.

That laugh.

The blood in my veins ran ice-cold as I gripped the phone tighter.

“Hello, love,” the deep, taunting voice purred.

Bryant Harlow.

I nearly dropped the phone.

My breath caught in my throat as his name echoed in my mind like a curse. My ex-fiancé. The man I had once loved. The man who had shattered me.

And now—he had Mae.

“I see you’re still as sharp as ever,” he mused. “I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out.”

My nails dug into my palm. “Where is she?” I demanded, my voice raw with anger.

Another amused chuckle. “Oh, she’s around… But I have to say, I expected more from you, Geoffanie. Losing the trace so easily? Tsk, tsk.”

My vision blurred with rage. “Let her go, Bryant. She has nothing to do with this.”

“She has everything to do with this,” he countered smoothly. “She’s your sister, isn’t she?”

I gritted my teeth. “Half-sister.”

“Still blood,” he said, his tone mocking. “And blood is such a powerful thing. It binds. It controls. It destroys.”

The line clicked. He was gone.

I stood frozen, gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. My breath came in shallow gasps. Bryant had Mae. And he was playing with me.

I refused to let him win.

Weeks passed. No body was found. No ransom demands. Just silence.

I was suffocating under the weight of uncertainty. Every night, I scoured every piece of evidence, searching for any trace of her. Every morning, I went to work, pretending I was fine.

Until the email arrived.

No sender. No subject. Just a single sentence.

"Your sister is in the forest."

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I packed my bag, took a leave from work, and drove.

The forest was dense, the towering trees swallowing all light once the sun dipped below the horizon. I set up a small tent and stayed, refusing to leave until I found her. Days passed in restless anticipation.

Then, one night—movement.

A rustling sound. Slow footsteps.

I bolted upright, grabbing the flashlight. My heart pounded against my ribs as I stepped outside. The beam of light flickered through the trees—until it landed on a figure.

Mae.

She was there. She was alive.

Tears blurred my vision as I rushed toward her. She was tied up, her face streaked with dirt and dried tears. Her clothes were torn, her frame trembling.

“Mae!” I choked, reaching for her restraints. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

But before she could speak, before I could even process what was happening—

A sharp pain cracked through my skull.

The world spun.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

I woke up in an unfamiliar room. The air was thick with a scent I couldn’t place—something expensive, something suffocating. My limbs were weak, my head throbbing.

I tried to sit up. That’s when I felt it.

A searing pain between my legs.

My breath hitched as horror crashed over me in waves. Slowly, shakily, I looked down.

Blood. Dried on my thighs. Staining my shorts.

A sob tore from my throat as I curled in on myself. No. No, no, no—

The door creaked open.

My head snapped up.

Bryant Harlow stood in the doorway, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, damp hair curling against his forehead. His dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Hmm…” His lips curved into a smirk. “I do hope I impregnated you, love.”

My world shattered.

Days blurred together.

I stopped counting them.

At first, I fought. I screamed. I clawed at the locked doors, threw things, refused to eat. But nothing changed. The only thing that greeted me every morning was the suffocating luxury of this bedroom—if I could even call it that. It was more of a gilded cage.

The four walls were draped in silk curtains, a chandelier casting golden light over the space. The bed was massive, covered in thick, expensive sheets that still smelled like Bryant. I hated it. I hated that I was stuck here.

Bryant barely visited. He only came to check if I was still breathing, smirking when he saw me curled up in the same spot. "You’ll get tired of resisting, love," he’d say before leaving again.

And maybe he was right.

Weeks passed before something changed.

One morning, the door creaked open. I expected another one of his staff bringing food, but instead, I saw him.

Bryant leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes scanning me with an amused look. “You’re finally calm,” he noted.

I didn’t reply. I just stared at him, my hatred simmering beneath my skin.

“Come.” He gestured for me to follow.

For the first time since I woke up here, I was allowed outside the room.

I hesitated. This had to be a trap. But staying locked inside was worse, so I forced myself to stand. My legs were weak from weeks of inactivity, but I followed him through the long hallway.

And that’s when I saw it.

A mansion.

Not just any mansion—this was huge. Crystal chandeliers, marble floors, gold-plated stair railings. The air smelled of expensive perfume and freshly polished wood.

My stomach twisted. This didn’t make sense. The Bryant I knew—he came from a decent family, but he was never this wealthy.

“Where did you get the money for this?” I asked, my voice sharp.

He smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Grandpa’s gift,” he said. “Mr. Dawson transferred the property to me. A reward for my success.”

Success?

I narrowed my eyes. “What success?”

His smirk deepened. “Fulfilling his wish, of course.”

Something in his voice made my skin crawl.

I shook my head. “What wish?”

Bryant’s gaze dropped to my stomach. He didn’t say a word.

My stomach dropped.

No. No, no, no.

I took a step back. “You mean—”

His smirk widened. “You’re carrying the heir, love.”

A chill ran down my spine. My fingers curled into fists.

This was why. This was why he had taken me. Why he had done this to me. It wasn’t about me—it was about the child.

I was nothing more than a surrogate.

I felt sick. I turned and ran back to the room, slamming the door shut behind me. My breath came in sharp gasps. I clutched my stomach, as if that would erase what was inside me.

This can’t be happening.

I needed to get rid of it.

The next few days were a blur. Bryant started treating me differently. Nurses arrived—Angela, the main one, was always by my side, checking my vitals, making sure I ate. Bryant acted like he cared, but I knew better.

One afternoon, Angela handed me a small pregnancy test. “Just to confirm, Miss Geoffanie,” she said with a soft smile.

I already knew the answer. But still, I locked myself in the bathroom and took the test.

Minutes passed.

I stared at the two pink lines.

Pregnant.

Tears slipped down my cheeks. I bit my lip to keep from screaming.

This was his child.

I needed to end this.

That night, I made my decision.

I waited until the mansion was quiet. I crept into the bathroom, trembling hands reaching for the small stash of pills I had secretly hidden.

One swallow. That was all it would take.

But before I could, the door burst open.

Bryant.

His eyes flicked to the pills in my hand. The room exploded.

The next thing I knew, the pills were slapped from my grasp. My back hit the wall as he grabbed my wrists, his face contorted with fury.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he growled.

Tears streamed down my face. “Getting rid of your disgusting spawn!”

His grip tightened. “You think I’ll let you? You think I’ll let you take away the one thing securing my legacy?”

I choked back a sob. “You’re a monster.”

His jaw clenched. “Maybe. But you? You’re mine. And so is that child.”

His words sent ice through my veins

That’s when he finally admitted it.

“The baby is the key,” he said coldly. “Once it’s born, Mr. Dawson’s fortune becomes fully mine.”

My stomach twisted in disgust.

Of course. This wasn’t about love. It wasn’t even about me.

It was about power.

I shoved at him, but he didn’t budge. His grip remained firm, his expression unreadable. “Get used to it, love,” he whispered before letting me go.

I collapsed onto the floor. He left without another word.

I curled into myself, sobs wracking my body.

I had to escape.

I tried. Again and again.

I used everything I had learned from my years as a dispatcher—tracking movements, memorizing schedules, studying security patterns.

But Bryant was always one step ahead.

Every time I made it close to the gates, someone stopped me.

Every time I tried contacting the outside world, the phone line was cut.

Every time I thought I was free, I was dragged back.

Weeks passed. My belly started to show. The weight of my reality became heavier. I was trapped.

Then, one morning—I woke up to something different.

A large box sat beside my bed.

Frowning, I reached for it, my fingers trembling as I lifted the lid.

Inside was a wedding gown.

Beautiful. Elegant. White lace and silk, delicately folded.

I sucked in a breath. My pulse pounded in my ears.

There was a note.

I unfolded it, my hands shaking.

"Ready for the wedding?"

I was trapped.

Not just inside Bryant’s mansion but inside a life I never wanted. Days blurred into weeks, my world reduced to the four walls of my gilded prison. Guards surrounded me at all times, their eyes cold and emotionless. No one spoke unless necessary, and I was never allowed to be alone.

There was no phone, no internet, no way to reach the outside world. I was a prisoner in a silk cage.

Instead of fighting, I was forced to learn how to be the perfect wife. Every morning, a well-known etiquette coach arrived, drilling into me the proper way to sit, speak, smile, and obey. I had no choice but to endure it—Bryant made it clear that any resistance would only hurt the people I loved.

And then, the wedding day arrived.

I woke up feeling numb. My body moved on its own, letting the makeup artists and stylists do their work. They painted my lips red, curled my hair into perfect waves, and slipped me into the gown—the same one Bryant had sent me in a box, mocking my fate.

The dress was beautiful. White lace, delicate embroidery, and a flowing train fit for royalty. But it felt like a funeral shroud.

I was about to marry a monster.

I sat stiffly in the car, hands clenched into fists as we drove to the church. Guards sat on either side of me, their presence suffocating. I stared out the tinted windows, watching the world move outside. The world I no longer belonged to.

Then, just before we reached the church, a man approached me. He moved swiftly, slipping into the car before the guards could react.

He didn’t say much.

Just held up a photo.

My breath caught in my throat.

It was my family.

Tied up. Eyes wide with terror.

"If you try to run, if you do anything stupid," the man whispered, "Bryant won’t hesitate to kill them."

My stomach dropped. I wanted to scream, to fight, to tear this dress off and disappear. But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t risk their lives.

So I walked down the aisle, silent and obedient.

The church was packed with powerful people—investors, politicians, business moguls. Men who controlled the world with their wealth and influence. They all watched as I took slow, measured steps toward my captor.

Bryant stood at the altar, looking as handsome and arrogant as ever in his tailored suit. His dark eyes gleamed with victory.

I felt like I was walking toward my execution.

The ceremony was a blur. I barely heard the priest’s words. My body was ice-cold, my hands trembling in Bryant’s grip. And then—

"You may now kiss the bride."

My lips were claimed by a man I despised. His grip was firm, possessive, as he sealed my fate in front of everyone.

The applause rang in my ears. I forced a smile, pretending to be the devoted wife. Pretending so Bryant wouldn’t hurt my family.

And then, just when I thought I had survived the worst, my world shattered again.

"Congrats, Mrs. Harlow."

The voice was light, happy—familiar.

I turned, and there she was.

Mae.

My sister.

Smiling. Glowing. As if nothing had happened.

I felt my chest tighten. My pulse pounded in my ears.

Mae wasn’t a hostage. She wasn’t broken, terrified, or suffering.

She was celebrating.

She threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly. Her touch burned my skin like acid.

"You did it," she whispered excitedly. "I’m so happy for you."

I froze.

Happy?

Mae was happy?

I pulled back, searching her face for answers. Was she brainwashed? Threatened?

But no. There was no fear in her eyes. Only joy.

And then it hit me.

She was part of this.

The kidnapping. The manipulation. The betrayal.

Mae had been working with Bryant all along.

My stomach twisted, nausea rising in my throat. My own sister. The one person I thought I could trust.

I wanted to scream. To shake her. To ask her why.

But I couldn’t.

Not here. Not in front of everyone.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced out a whisper.

"Mae… what did you do?"

She only smiled wider, leaning in to fix my veil.

"Relax," she murmured. "Everything worked out, right?"

For the first time—the late realization hit me. I am right.

I couldn’t breathe.

Bryant’s arm slid around my waist, pulling me close. His grip was iron. A silent warning.

I was his.

"H-How did you do this?"

She just stood in front of me with a full smile plastering on her face. “Can't you just be thankful? I saved your life from being worst?"

Worst? There was nothing worse other than this.