— Hazel —
"Arrrghh… my head."
The words come out before I even mean to say them. I feel like someone is hitting my head with a hammer, and every throb sends a sharp pain around the back of my head.
What even happened to me? I rub my eyes trying to remember and then I look at my surroundings. The bed is king-sized. I'm in a highly furnished room.
The walls stretch high, pale, almost pink with light spilling from sleek sconces. There's no clock, no familiar clutter—just luxury in every corner had beautifully draped curtains. The colors of the walls were peach with a mix of pink. This practically looks like a princess's room.
I don't remember coming here. Didn't remember anything past… the hospital.
And that's when everything hits me
"Fuck," I exclaimed.
I was ambushed by the paparazzi at the hospital and I must have passed out. I can remember what happened last the cameras and pushing. But this doesn't still make any sense. This bed isn't mine.
I'm not in my apartment. Not in the hospital, either.
Where am I? Have I been kidnapped ??
Someone took me. I rush trying to come down from the bed. My body hurts.
Before I can get to the door, it opens.
A nurse in blue rushes in, her face calm but alert. "Please don't move too fast. You fainted earlier and we don't want to spike your blood pressure again."
I shrink back, bracing myself. "Where am I?"
"You're safe. I promise." She steps closer, hands lifted in reassurance. "You're in Mr. Ace's home."
Everything inside me twists. Mr.Ace?
She must've noticed I was shaking, because she added quickly, "No one's going to hurt you. You fainted outside the hospital and you were rushed here for your safety. There was a crowd… paparazzi."
I clench my fists. No—no no they know. They know.
The world knows I'm carrying his baby.
I sit back down slowly, heart pounding in my ears. I can't. The nurse was just staring at me. She must think I'm mad for not wanting to be here. Anyone will be glad to probably be sleeping in a billionaire's house. Not me!
And who the f**k is this Ace guy that paparazzi will swarm me over his child.
"How… how bad is it?" I ask eventually, voice raw.
"We're containing what we can," she replies gently. "But Mr. Ace wanted to make sure you were okay. He had you brought here right away. You were unconscious."
I grab the bed sheets tightly. I don't want to be here. This house feels too big, too clean. It don't want any of this.
"I want to go home," I whisper.
"You've been checked. The baby is doing fine," she says. "But Mr. Ace made it clear you're not to leave until he's sure you're out of harm's way."
"I'll be careful," I say, more desperately this time. "I'll stay inside. Just tell him—I didn't ask for this. I just want to go back to my life."
She kneels level with me now, her tone softer than before. "I know it's hard. I really do. But this—this is the best place for you right now."
I shake my head, tears rolling down my face. "I wanted a normal life. Even with this baby. I didn't want—this."
She gives me a moment, then quietly rises. "I'll give you some time. But please eat something when I return. You need the strength."
She stepped out and I couldn't stop crying.
I press both palms over my face, my shoulders trembling. I don't even know who I'm crying for—me or the baby or the version of myself I can't get back.
When she comes back ten minutes later, she's holding a tray with food—something warm and elegant-smelling—but I snap.
"No," I say. "I said I'm not eating."
She hesitates, gentle. "You really should—"
I walk up to her, collect the tray, and slam it to the floor.
The food splashes over the floor and the plate shatters. The sound echoed loudly. "Let me go! I want to go home!"
The nurse flinches but doesn't argue. She backs out slowly, eyes still watching me like I might collapse again. And maybe I will.
The next girls that come on look more like house-helps. One of them began cleaning and the other tries to leave the tray at the foot of the but I shove it over too, just as violently.
Why don't any of them get that I don't want anything from him? Nothing!
If I wasn't given a guard no one would have even noticed me. But he wouldn't listen.
I don't want this house, or the silence, or the perfect walls.
And the room goes still.
Oh God. He's hot!!
He wasn't the kind of good-looking you noticed right away. It crept up on you. The longer you looked, the worse it got. His jaw had that careless kind of sharpness—like he didn't try to look that good, it just happened.
He didn't smile. Didn't need to. He had that presence—the kind that fills a room before he says a word. He wasn't pretty. He was… magnetic. The kind of man you hate noticing, but still turn your head for when he walks by.
My heart stumbles. I'm not sure if I want to look away or slap myself for staring.
Mr. Ace, But no—
My brain stutters catches, then runs. I know that face, the sharp mouth, the cold eyes.
"You will do as you're told." His voice cuts through the room.
The nurses scatter without a word. No one dares meet his eyes. The door shuts behind them with a quiet click, and then it's just the two of us.
I stagger backward.
"You," I whisper.
He watches me, unmoving. "Me."
"You—" I point at him, hand trembling, vision spinning again. "You were at the hospital."
His expression doesn't change.
"You were the one who called me a lost intern. The one who insulted me. That day in the hallway. You looked at me like I disgusted you."
"Oh my God," I say, voice breaking. "It was you. It was always you."
I stumble another step back, toward the window, toward anything that doesn't feel like him. "You've been watching me. This whole time—you've been… what is this?"
He doesn't speak. Doesn't explain. Doesn't defend.
"You think because you're rich and I'm carrying your child you can control me?" My voice rises. "You think you can just lock me up here and feed me like some—some kept woman?"
"I think," he says finally, voice low, cold, "that if you collapse again from stress, you might lose the baby. And I won't allow that."
His eyes are steel. So cold and stern. I press my palm over my mouth and back away until I hit the wall.
He slowly moves towards me and places his left hand above my head. Cornering me. He comes closer our faces brushing.
I'm angry but I can swear my cheeks are hot. He comes closer, way too close. His body blocks out everything else, and I'm suddenly very aware of how cold the wall feels behind me… and how warm he is in front of me.
I opened my mouth trying to speak, but nothing comes out. My heart's pounding loudly and I can notice my chest rising quickly. I gather the courage to speak.
I swallow, hard. "I'm not scared of you." It comes out soft, and uneven.
He lets out the smallest breath of a laugh, but it doesn't sound like a joke. "You should be."