chapter 3 The penthouse prison
318 Words
The lock clicked.
I ran to the bedroom door and twisted the handle. Locked. From the outside.
“Adrian!” I pounded on the mahogany. “Adrian, open this door!”
His voice came through the intercom, cold as the 100th floor view. “House rules, Mrs. Kane. You don’t leave. You don’t see friends. You don’t use your phone. You exist to grow my son.”
I stared at the black card he gave me. Unlimited. Useless.
“I want to see my mother!”
“She’s being moved to the VIP wing as we speak. Best care money can buy. It continues… if you behave.”
The threat was clear.
Day 1: A doctor came. Took my blood. Measured my stomach. Called me “incubator” when he thought I couldn’t hear.
Day 3: Adrian came to dinner. Watched me eat like I was a science experiment. “Eat more protein. My heir needs to be strong.”
Day 7: I found the cameras. Bedroom. Bathroom. Everywhere.
That night I shattered the mirror.
Adrian stormed in, glass crunching under his N500k shoes. He grabbed my bleeding wrist.
“You want to hurt yourself?” His thumb wiped blood from my palm. Then he did something terrifying.
He licked it.
“You’re mine, Lily. Your blood. Your body. Your baby. All mine.” His eyes were black fire. “Break another mirror, and I’ll make sure your mother’s next surgery ‘has complications’.”
I stopped breathing.
“Now.” He dragged me to the floor-to-ceiling window. Lagos sparkled below, 100 floors down. “Look at them. All those people. None of them can save you.”
His hand slid to my stomach. Possessive. Claiming.
“Smile for the cameras, wife. You’re going to love being a Kane.”
The lock clicked again as he left.
And I realized: I wasn’t his wife.
I was his prisoner.
- Writer
