Taken
Y/Nâs world shattered the night she was taken.
She had always lived an ordinary lifeâworking, studying, dreaming of a future she could control. But all of that ended when he came for her.
H/N.
A powerful, ruthless man who got whatever he wanted. And what he wanted⦠was her.
She had barely locked her apartment door when strong hands grabbed her from behind. A cloth pressed over her mouth, the scent of chemicals making her dizzy. She struggled, but the darkness swallowed her whole.
When she woke up, she was in an unfamiliar room. Lavish. Expensive. A golden chandelier cast a soft glow over the king-sized bed. The air smelled of leather and expensive cologne.
And then she saw him.
H/N sat in a chair across from her, watching her with unreadable eyes. His suit was pristine, his posture relaxedâlike he had done this before. Like she was just another possession he had acquired.
Her heart pounded. "Where am I?"
"In my house," he said smoothly. "Where you belong."
Panic surged through her. She scrambled out of bed, but he was faster. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her against his chest.
"Youâre mine now," he murmured against her ear. "And youâll learn to accept it."
She shoved at him, but he didnât budge. His grip tightened, his warmth pressing into her skin.
"Let me go!" she shouted.
His lips curved into a smirk. "No."
That was the moment she knewâthis man wasnât going to let her go. Ever.
Broken Will
Days passed, but escape was impossible.
Every door was locked. Every window had bars. The mansion was guarded at all times.
H/N controlled everything.
At first, Y/N fought him. She screamed, refused to eat, threw things at him. But nothing shook him. He was patient, watching her with those dark, knowing eyes.
"You can fight all you want," he said one night, cornering her against the wall. "But Iâm not letting you go."
She glared up at him, her breath uneven. "Youâre insane."
He chuckled. "No, sweetheart. Iâm obsessed."
Then, before she could react, he kissed her.
It wasnât soft. It wasnât gentle. It was dominant, possessiveâstealing the breath from her lungs. She struggled at first, but his grip was firm, his body pinning hers in place.
Something inside her cracked.
Because the worst part?
Her body responded to him.
First Night
It happened under candlelight.
Y/N had stopped fighting as hard. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the way H/N treated herâpossessive, yes, but also strangely gentle when she least expected it.
That night, he touched her differently. Slowly. Carefully.
But when she hesitated, he reminded her: "I own you, sweetheart. Stop pretending you donât want this."
She hated him. Hated what he had done to her.
But when he kissed her again, when his hands explored her body, when he claimed her in a way that left her breathlessâshe didnât resist.
And for the first time⦠she didnât want to.
The Consequences
Weeks passed. Something changed.
Y/N woke up one morning feeling offânausea twisting in her stomach. At first, she ignored it. But when the sickness didnât stop, when her body felt different, dread settled deep in her bones.
No.
It wasnât possible.
But when she took the test, the two little lines confirmed the truth.
She was pregnant.
Tears filled her eyes as she gripped the sink. This wasnât supposed to happen. She wasnât supposed to be here, in this place, carrying the child of the man who stole her.
She had to hide it. Had to escape before he found out.
But H/N was too smart for that.
That night, as she sat across from him at dinner, he studied her carefully. "Youâve been acting strange," he said. "Tell me whatâs wrong."
She hesitated. But then his eyes darkenedâlike he already knew.
"Youâre carrying my child, arenât you?"
Silence.
Then, he smirked.
"Good," he murmured. "Now you can never leave."
A Shift in Power
Y/N expected H/N to use the pregnancy against her. To trap her even further.
But instead⦠something changed.
He became softer.
Not in wordsâhe was still commanding, still possessive. But in actions.
He made sure she ate, made sure she rested. When she woke up sick, he was there, rubbing slow circles on her back. When she criedâfrustrated, scared, overwhelmedâhe didnât mock her.
He held her.
"Youâll never have to worry about anything," he whispered one night, his hand resting on her growing belly. "Iâll take care of you both."
And the worst part?
She believed him.
Acceptance
By the time she was eight months pregnant, Y/N couldnât deny the truth anymore.
She didnât hate him.
Maybe she never truly did.
Because despite everything, H/N was always there. He never let her feel alone. He never let her suffer. He kissed her forehead when she was tired. He whispered soft reassurances when she doubted herself.
And when she went into labor, he never left her side.
"Itâs okay, sweetheart," he murmured, stroking her sweat-dampened hair. "Iâve got you. Just breathe."
And when she finally held their babyâa tiny, perfect girlâshe looked at him with fresh eyes.
Not as her captor.
Not as her enemy.
But as the father of her child.
As her man.
Happily Ever After?
Two years later, Y/N stood in the garden, watching as their daughter toddled through the grass.
She never thought sheâd find peace here. Never thought sheâd love the man who had once stolen her freedom.
But H/N had proven himself, again and again.
He wasnât just possessive. He wasnât just ruthless.
He was hers.
Completely.
And when he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck, she leaned into him willingly.
"Youâre happy," he murmured.
She smiled softly, watching their daughter giggle in the sunlight.
"Yeah," she admitted. "I am."
And for the first time⦠she meant it.