No More the Billionaire’s Canary

After another grueling night of Francis Harris having his way with me in bed, a new woman with an innocent look showed up at the villa. She had a slender figure, yet her chest was anything but modest, the kind of body that screamed fertility. Back straight, arms crossed, she looked me up and down. "I'm here to take over your job of bearing Mr. Harris's child," she announced. "A hen that can't even lay an egg in three years? You've been replaced. So take the money and get out of here while you still can." She expected me to break down and beg to stay. But I nearly laughed out loud. Finally, I could get away from that pervert. If it weren't for my sister Isabel's medical bills, I would never have signed that contract with the Harris family, the one that bound me to him until I gave him a child. I'd have run far, far away long ago. To the outside world, Francis was every bit the gentleman, polished, charming, well-mannered. But behind closed doors, he was a monster with moods as unpredictable as a storm. When he was pleased, he'd casually drop millions on jewelry and shower me with gifts. When he wasn't... he'd lash me with his belt while taking me, leaving marks all over my body — some big, some small. Every single time. Being his mistress was worse than being his servant. The day after being ravaged in bed by Francis Herris, a knock suddenly came at the villa's front door. A seductive woman with a generous bust and a slim waist stood at the entrance. "My name is Lily Lane," she announced. "Madam Herris sent me here to keep Mr. Harris company. From now on, I'm the lady of this house." She assumed I was a maid and thrust her belongings toward me. When I didn't take them, she frowned, about to scold me—but a maid rushed over from behind, accepted the bags, and quickly introduced me. "This is Miss King, Mr. Harris's companion." Lily immediately looked me up and down, her gaze sharp and critical. "So you're Luna King. Not bad-looking, I'll give you that, but way too skinny. No wonder you couldn't produce a child in three years." She swept into the villa, surveyed the decor with disdain, and ordered the servants to toss out the roses on the windowsill. The maid hesitated. "Those are the blue roses Mr. Harris brought back from Paris for Miss King. He told us not to touch them." Lily rolled her eyes. "Don't touch them? Madam Harris has the final say, and she says, I'm the lady of this house now. Once I bear his child, I'll be the don's legitimate wife! Is there a single thing here I'm not allowed to touch?" With that, she grabbed the vase of blue roses and smashed it to the ground. Shards of glass flew up and sliced across the back of my hand. Blood beaded to the surface. Yet I felt no anger, no hurt. Only one thought: I could finally leave. Thank God. Finally, someone was willing to walk into this cage and become Francis Harris's kept woman. In everyone else's eyes, Francis, the don of the underworld, was the undisputed king of this city. To be his woman and bear his child was considered a blessing of a lifetime. After all, at just 28, he ruled this city with an iron fist. He carried himself with an aristocratic air, and his devastatingly handsome face could make any woman lose her mind. Whenever he strode past in his tailored suit, his cold gaze and overpowering presence commanded absolute submission from everyone around him. But no one knew the truth: Francis was a monster. When he was in a good mood, he could be impossibly tender in bed, even taking his private jet in the middle of the night to bid on tens of millions of dollars' worth of jewelry, just as an everyday gift. But his moods were as unpredictable as a storm. When he wasn't, he'd unleash his fury on me in bed. Sometimes, his sadistic side would show, leaving me covered in bruises—purple and black, from head to toe. The worst time, he cuffed me to the bed and wouldn't stop, no matter how I screamed or begged. He was brutal, relentless. Hours later, I was rushed to the hospital with a ruptured corpus luteum. The doctor said if I'd arrived any later, I wouldn't have made it. Francis just grunted, "Noted. I'll be more careful next time." After that incident, he bought me a villa as a gift, like he was rewarding a pet. A slap, then a treat. That was his way. He was always above it all, never once believing he'd done anything wrong. And the next time, he'd cuff me to the bed all over again and have his way with me. He treated me like a little bird in a gilded cage. He wouldn't let me leave, wouldn't even let me speak to other men. Once, he saw me exchange a few words with a gardener trimming the hedges. That night, I was chained to the bed and tormented until dawn. The next morning, the gardener was fired. If it weren't for Isabel's medical bills and the contract I'd signed with the Harris family, I wouldn't have stayed a single day. Lily knew none of this. She thought being Mrs. Harris was all glamour and glory, but she had no idea that in front of him, one's dignity meant absolutely nothing.