Chapter 3: The Cruelty
Four weeks in. Still no pregnancy. Dominic's patience had finally snapped.
"Are you doing this on purpose?" He cornered me in the hallway, his hand slamming against the wall beside my head.
I flinched. Genuinely. His eyes were terrifying up close — all that cultured charm stripped away, leaving something feral underneath.
"I'm following every instruction," I said carefully. "The doctor said it sometimes takes—"
"The doctor said your hormone levels are wrong." His voice was dangerously low. "Sera's been cooking for you every single day. Giving you supplements. Treating you like a queen.
And you can't even do the ONE thing we're paying you for?"
*Sera's been poisoning me every single day.* But I couldn't say that. Not yet.
"Maybe if we try a different approach—" I started.
"No." He straightened up, smoothing his tie. "We're done playing nice."
That evening, a team of specialists arrived. Dominic had me strapped to a medical chair in the estate's private clinic while they ran invasive tests for three hours straight.
No anesthesia. No privacy. Seraphina watched from behind the glass partition, sipping tea.
When it was over, Dominic reviewed the results himself.
"Everything's normal," the specialist confirmed. "There's no physical reason she can't conceive. It may just require patience and—"
"Get out," Dominic said.
He stared at the report for a long time. Then he looked at me — still in the medical gown, still trembling on the chair.
"You're hiding something."
"I'm not."
He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed my jaw. "I've spent three million dollars on you. You will give me what I paid for, or I will make your life a living hell."
I looked into his cold gray eyes and whispered, "You already have."
Something flickered in his gaze. Surprise? Guilt? It vanished before I could name it.
He released my jaw and walked out without another word.
That night, Seraphina slipped into my room uninvited. She sat on the edge of my bed, her perfume suffocating.
"Poor thing," she cooed. "He's so rough with you. I keep telling him to be gentler, but he never listens to me."
She traced a finger along my blanket. "You know, if you just... relaxed more... it might happen faster. Then you'd be free."
"I'm trying," I said.
"Are you?" Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Because sometimes I wonder if you're stalling on purpose. Enjoying the attention, maybe?"
My blood went cold. She leaned in closer.
"Let me be clear. The sooner you get pregnant, the sooner you disappear. Don't get comfortable here. Don't look at Dominic too long. Don't forget what you are."
She patted my cheek — hard enough to sting — and left.
I sat in the dark, pressing my palm against the red mark on my face.
*Don't forget what you are.*
I almost pitied her. She had no idea what I was.
But she was about to find out.
---
"Are you doing this on purpose?" He cornered me in the hallway, his hand slamming against the wall beside my head.
I flinched. Genuinely. His eyes were terrifying up close — all that cultured charm stripped away, leaving something feral underneath.
"I'm following every instruction," I said carefully. "The doctor said it sometimes takes—"
"The doctor said your hormone levels are wrong." His voice was dangerously low. "Sera's been cooking for you every single day. Giving you supplements. Treating you like a queen.
And you can't even do the ONE thing we're paying you for?"
*Sera's been poisoning me every single day.* But I couldn't say that. Not yet.
"Maybe if we try a different approach—" I started.
"No." He straightened up, smoothing his tie. "We're done playing nice."
That evening, a team of specialists arrived. Dominic had me strapped to a medical chair in the estate's private clinic while they ran invasive tests for three hours straight.
No anesthesia. No privacy. Seraphina watched from behind the glass partition, sipping tea.
When it was over, Dominic reviewed the results himself.
"Everything's normal," the specialist confirmed. "There's no physical reason she can't conceive. It may just require patience and—"
"Get out," Dominic said.
He stared at the report for a long time. Then he looked at me — still in the medical gown, still trembling on the chair.
"You're hiding something."
"I'm not."
He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed my jaw. "I've spent three million dollars on you. You will give me what I paid for, or I will make your life a living hell."
I looked into his cold gray eyes and whispered, "You already have."
Something flickered in his gaze. Surprise? Guilt? It vanished before I could name it.
He released my jaw and walked out without another word.
That night, Seraphina slipped into my room uninvited. She sat on the edge of my bed, her perfume suffocating.
"Poor thing," she cooed. "He's so rough with you. I keep telling him to be gentler, but he never listens to me."
She traced a finger along my blanket. "You know, if you just... relaxed more... it might happen faster. Then you'd be free."
"I'm trying," I said.
"Are you?" Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Because sometimes I wonder if you're stalling on purpose. Enjoying the attention, maybe?"
My blood went cold. She leaned in closer.
"Let me be clear. The sooner you get pregnant, the sooner you disappear. Don't get comfortable here. Don't look at Dominic too long. Don't forget what you are."
She patted my cheek — hard enough to sting — and left.
I sat in the dark, pressing my palm against the red mark on my face.
*Don't forget what you are.*
I almost pitied her. She had no idea what I was.
But she was about to find out.
---