The Game of Masks and True Identity

Phoebe's POV

The year I partied the hardest, I was reckless and selfish, sleeping around without a care. One night, I made the mistake of crawling into the bed of a crime boss, Cade Oliver. I thought it would be another fling. But I didn’t expect him to want more, to keep coming back for me.

When I found out I was pregnant, he had me locked away.

By accident, I overheard a conversation between him and the butler.

“Once she delivers her baby, she’s gonna be useless,” he said. “With her baby in our hands, we can dispose of her stubborn old family and take everything the Dunns own.”

Upon hearing that, rage burned up inside me. So while he slept, I stabbed one of his eyes.

Humiliated and furious, he smashed my legs again and again so I couldn’t run. Then he ordered doctors and caregivers to attend to my every need.

One night, I used a hidden table knife to cut open my five-month belly.

“Phoebe, do you want to die?” he snarled, his eyes rimmed red, and he lifted me up, carrying me toward the car to the hospital.

But I smiled, grabbed his hand, and thrust the knife toward his other eye.

“No,” I said. “We’ll die together.”

——

He pulled the knife hard, causing it to slide and stab his left shoulder. Blood then spattered everywhere, soaking his white shirt.

“Phoebe, are you fucking crazy?” he roared as his hand clamped around my throat, seemingly beside himself. The eye I’d already blinded flashed something brutal.

I stared back, gasping, and sneered, “I’ve always been crazy. Did you only notice today?”

Maybe he was afraid something would happen to the baby, because finally he loosened his grip and then slammed me onto the floor.

My legs were already shattered, but I still kicked and tried to stand. Yet, it was useless. Still, I wasn’t afraid to speak hard truths.

“Cade, I’m not going to let this child be born,” I said.

“Bring her back!” he ordered.

He cursed under his breath, pressed at his wounded shoulder, and coldly warned the bodyguards, “Nothing must happen to the baby. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be the ones getting shot.”

As they dragged me away, Cade gave me a cold smile.

“Phoebe.” His fingers were oddly gentle as he stroked my face. “Remember this. With me around, you won’t die. As for the baby, there’s only one future for it. And that is to be born safe."

They then put me in a gilded cage, a lavish villa dressed up in princessy splendor. All the luxury in the world surrounded me, but I felt like a corpse as I couldn’t move freely.

Several private doctors came to treat me, and they quickly stitched and bandaged the wound I’d opened with the table knife.

Just then, the butler’s voice came through the window.

“Mr. Oliver, Miss Dunn’s baby was only stressed. There’s nothing serious happened with the child.”

Only then did Cade relax, but he still stationed ten more guards to watch me closely. While he made sure I was well-fed and that I lacked nothing, he confiscated every sharp thing in the house. Not even a table knife remained.

“Miss Dunn,” the butler sighed, puzzled, “Mr. Oliver has already promised to marry you. If you quietly give birth, you’ll have wealth and comfort. Why would you choose otherwise?”

I didn’t answer. I just laughed coldly. “That wedding, whatever it was, was just for show. Saying he’d marry me was nothing but an act.”

The butler opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off with a look sharp enough to wound.

Everyone in the Olivers' household treated me like a madwoman. They didn’t dare speak to me much, afraid of getting into trouble.

I lay there in bed for a week until one day, a curious face appeared at the window. It was a little girl in a princess dress peering in.