PLEASURED BY MY ENEMY'S FATHER

Chapter 1 Her Life

A Year Ago…

The mornings at St. Maris Orphanage always smelled the same… thin porridge, old wood, and damp laundry that never fully dried during the rainy season.

I woke up before the others, like I always did. Not because I had to, but because it was easier that way. Quiet meant control. Quiet meant I didn’t have to think too much.

The ceiling above my bed had a crack shaped like a crooked line, something I used to trace with my eyes when I couldn’t sleep.

Sister Elena said I’d been left here when I was barely a month old, wrapped in a faded blanket with no note, no name… nothing. They gave me the name Nyra Patterson because it “sounded strong.”

Strong.

I used to wonder if whoever left me here thought I’d need it.

I pushed the thought away and sat up, tying my hair into a loose knot. The room was still dim, the other girls breathing softly in their sleep.

Ten metal beds lined the walls, thin mattresses, thinner blankets. It wasn’t much, but it was home. The only one I knew.

By the time the others woke, I had already swept the hallway and helped in the kitchen. Work wasn’t optional here.

The government support barely covered food, and the rest came from occasional sponsors… people who visited once, smiled too much, and left behind donations that never lasted long.

So, we worked.

I carried buckets of water from the pump outside, my hands already rough from years of doing the same thing. The cold bit into my skin, but I didn’t slow down. Slowing down meant thinking. Thinking meant remembering.

And remembering always led back to that day.

I was ten.

It had been the only time I let myself hope.

The couple had arrived in a polished car that didn’t belong on our street. The woman wore perfume that lingered even after she walked away, and the man smiled too easily. They chose me quickly. Too quickly.

“She’s perfect,” the woman had said, her hand gripping my shoulder just a little too tight. “Quiet and obedient.”

I remember looking at Sister Elena, waiting for a sign. A warning… or anything.

But she just smiled softly. “You’ll have a better life, Nyra.”

I believed her. That was my mistake.

At first, everything seemed… fine. Their house was bigger than anything I’d ever seen. I had my own room. Clean sheets. Food whenever I wanted. The woman brushed my hair at night, telling me I was lucky.

But something felt wrong.

It started small. Locked doors. Whispered conversations that stopped when I walked in. The man watching me too closely, like I wasn’t a child… but something he owned.

Then one night, I heard it clearly.

“She’ll sell well,” the man said. My stomach dropped.

“She’s young and healthy,” the woman replied. “We just need to keep her quiet until the buyer confirms.”

I didn’t fully understand everything… but I understood enough.

They weren’t my family. I wasn’t their daughter. I was something to be sold.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t panic. Something inside me just… went cold.

That night, I waited.

I listened to the creak of the house, memorized the sound of their footsteps, the rhythm of their breathing when everything went quiet. My heart pounded so loud I thought it would give me away, but I stayed still.

When I was sure they were asleep, I moved. Barefoot. Silent.

The door was locked, but I had been watching for days. The key was always placed on the small table near their room. My hands trembled as I reached for it, every second stretching into forever.

The floor creaked. I froze. No movement. No sound. I kept going.

The key slid into the lock with a soft click that sounded too loud in the silence. I held my breath as I turned it slowly, carefully, praying it wouldn’t snap or jam.

The door opened. Cold air hit my face, sharp and real. I ran. I didn’t look back.

The streets were dark, unfamiliar, and endless. My feet burned against the pavement, my lungs screaming for air, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t even know where I was going… only that I had to get as far away from them as possible.

Cars passed. Strangers stared. No one stopped me. I ran until my legs gave out. And somehow… I found my way back.

When I reached the orphanage, I collapsed at the door, my body shaking, my chest heaving like it might break apart. Sister Elena opened it, her face turning pale the moment she saw me.

“Nyra!”

I don’t remember what I said. I don’t even know if I said anything at all. But I remember one thing clearly.

The way I clung to her and whispered, over and over…

“I’m not going back. Please… don’t make me go back.”

She didn’t.

And after that day, I never let anyone try again.

Every time a potential adopter came, I made sure they didn’t choose me. I stayed quiet, distant, unreadable. If they looked too closely, I looked away. If they smiled, I didn’t smile back.

I wasn’t going to be taken again. Ever.

By the time I turned eighteen, I already had a plan. Work. Save. Leave. No attachments. No dependence. No one to betray me.

Life at the orphanage wasn’t easy. It never was.

I worked wherever I could… cleaning, carrying supplies, helping in nearby stores for small pay. Every coin mattered. Half went to the orphanage. The other half I saved carefully, hidden where no one would find it.

We survived on little government support that barely covered anything, and occasional donations from people who didn’t stay long enough to understand what it really meant to live like this.

But it was enough. It had to be. Because no matter how hard it was… it was still safer than the world outside.

And I learned early then, safety doesn’t come from comfort. It comes from control.

And I was never going to lose mine again. The day I turned eighteen didn’t feel special.

There was no cake, no candles, no celebration… just the same thin porridge for breakfast and the usual list of chores waiting for me. But something had changed.

I was no longer just surviving. I had a way out.

I folded the letter again, careful not to crease it further, though I had already read it so many times the edges had softened.

The paper wasn’t anything special, but to me, it felt like the most important thing I had ever held.

“We are pleased to inform you…”

I exhaled slowly, pressing it against my chest for a second before slipping it back into the envelope.

A full academic scholarship.

Not just any school… a prestigious university I had only ever seen in brochures and online photos at the small internet café down the street. Tall buildings, wide open spaces, students who looked like they belonged to a different world.

And somehow… I was going to be one of them.

“Nyra!”

I barely had time to turn before Lovena crashed into me, wrapping her arms tightly around my shoulders. She smelled like soap and sunlight, her laughter already spilling out before she even spoke.

“You’re still holding it like it’s going to disappear!” she teased, pulling back just enough to look at my face. “It’s real, okay? You got in. You actually got in!”

I couldn’t help it, a small smile broke through. “I know.”

But even as I said it, it still didn’t feel completely real.

Lovena grabbed my hands, practically bouncing in place. “Do you even realize what this means? That school is for – like – rich people, geniuses, or both. And now you’re going there for free!”

“I’m not rich,” I said dryly.

She rolled her eyes. “Exactly. Which means you’re the genius.”

I let out a quiet breath, shaking my head, but the warmth in my chest stayed. Lovena had always been like this… bright, loud, full of energy. The opposite of me in almost every way, but somehow the only person I never felt the need to guard myself around.

We met when we were twelve. She had cried on her first night, and I had handed her my blanket without saying a word. She never forgot that.

“Come on,” she said, tugging my arm. “Sister Elena is waiting. And everyone else. They’re literally acting like you just won the lottery.”

“It kind of feels like I did,” I muttered.

When we stepped into the main hall, the noise hit me immediately.

The younger kids were gathered near the long wooden tables, whispering and giggling. A few of them ran up to me the second they saw me.

“Nyra, is it true? You’re going to a big school?”

“Will you come back and visit?”

“Are you going to be rich?”

I blinked, caught off guard, before giving a small nod. “It’s true. And no, I’m not going to be rich.”

“Not yet,” Lovena added with a grin.

Sister Elena stood near the front, her hands clasped together, watching me with a look I hadn’t seen in a long time.

Pride.

“Nyra,” she said softly as I approached. “You’ve done something very few manage to do, especially from here.”

I lowered my gaze slightly. “I just studied.”

“You did more than that,” she replied gently. “You endured.”

The room quieted a little, and I became painfully aware of all the eyes on me. Expectation. Hope.

It settled on my shoulders heavier than I expected.

“You’ll be representing not just yourself,” she continued, her voice calm but firm. “But this home. These children. You’re proof that where you come from doesn’t decide where you’ll go.”

I swallowed, my grip tightening slightly at my sides.

“I won’t waste it,” I said. And I meant it.

That night, the orphanage felt different.

The walls were still worn, the lights still dim, the beds still thin, but something had shifted. For once, the future didn’t feel like a blank space filled with uncertainty.

It felt like something I could reach.

Lovena lay on the bed beside mine, staring up at the ceiling.

“You’re really leaving,” she said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to forget about me.”

I turned my head slightly. “No, I’m not.”

She snorted. “You better not. When you become successful, I expect full support. Financial, emotional, everything.”

A small smile tugged at my lips. “You’re already planning that far?”

“Obviously.” She turned to look at me, her expression softening. “I’m serious, Nyra. You deserve this.”

The words settled deep. Deserve.

It wasn’t something I had ever really believed in. Everything I had, I worked for. Fought for. Survived for.

But this… this felt different.

“I’m not going there to just pass,” I said quietly, staring at the cracked ceiling above me. “I’m going to be at the top.”

Lovena grinned. “Of course you are.”

“I’m going to make sure I never have to come back here because I have no choice,” I continued, my voice steady. “Only because I want to.”

That was the difference. Not running back. Choosing to return.

“And when I do,” I added, “I’ll make sure this place doesn’t have to struggle like this anymore.”

Lovena didn’t joke this time. She just nodded.

“I believe you.”

"Thanks, Love. You're the best!"