Alicia's heart pounded in her chest as she ran, her daughters' hands gripped tightly in hers. The forest was dense, the night eerily silent except for their hurried breaths and the distant rustle of leaves. The sound of boots crunching against twigs grew louder behind them—Desmond's men were closing in.
She had to get her children to safety.
Then—crack!
Alicia's foot caught on a root. She tumbled forward, crashing onto the forest floor with a sharp gasp. The impact sent pain shooting up her leg, but she forced herself to turn, her gaze locking onto her eldest daughter, Sara.
"Sara," she whispered, urgency thick in her voice. "Take Cara and run. Don't look back."
"But Mom—"
"GO!"
Tears welled in Sara's eyes, but she obeyed, gripping Cara's small hand and vanishing into the night.
Alicia exhaled shakily, her body trembling with both pain and relief. As she struggled to stand, her mind drifted—back to where it all began.
Fifteen Years Ago…
Alicia had been young, reckless, and searching for something—excitement, maybe even love. She met most of her clients online, indulging in a lifestyle that offered momentary pleasure but little else.
Then she met him.
Desmond Walter.
Rich. Handsome. Dangerous.
She didn't know that last part—not yet.
He found her through an escort site. His messages were smooth, confident. When he asked her out for dinner, something about him made her say yes.
That evening, she arrived in a red cocktail dress, expecting just another night. But the moment she laid eyes on him in his sleek red suit, she knew he was different.
"Shall we dance?" Desmond asked, his voice like honey.
Alicia hesitated—then nodded.
As they swayed, his touch possessive, his lips brushed her ear. She was falling.
Afterward, he led her to a quiet corner.
"Do you know how to kiss?" he asked, smirking.
"Of course," Alicia said, tilting her chin up confidently. She pressed her lips to his, expecting something sweet.
But Desmond didn't do 'sweet.'
He devoured her. His kiss was deep, hungry—dangerous.
That night, he took her to a hotel. She trusted him. But when she sipped the wine he gave her, her world blurred.
When she woke up, she wasn't the same.
Her body ached, her dress was gone, and a stain of blood tainted the sheets.
"You drugged me," she choked out.
Desmond only smirked.
"Marry me."
Alicia's heart stopped.
She should have run. Should have screamed. But she didn't.
"Yes," she whispered.
And just like that, her fate was sealed.
Marriage to Desmond wasn't love—it was ownership.
His mansion was a prison, its gold-trimmed walls nothing more than gilded bars. She wasn't allowed outside. She wasn't allowed anything—except him.
When she became pregnant, he was furious at first. Then, something changed. He became… possessive.
Alicia gave birth to their first child, Sara, and for a moment, she thought maybe—just maybe—Desmond would become a real husband. A real father.
She was wrong.
He took Sara from her, handing her to a nanny. Alicia was only allowed to see her baby once a week.
Two years later, she became pregnant again.
This time, Desmond didn't even pretend to care.
Even with her swollen belly, he still came to her at night, still took what he wanted.
She gave birth in her bedroom, alone.
A second daughter—Cara.
She held her newborn close, whispering, "One day, I'll get us out of here."
She just didn't know how.
Years passed in torment.
Then, one day, Desmond ordered his men to take the children to the beach. Alicia waited for their return.
But the car never came back.
The next morning, the news reported:
"ALICIA WALTER AND HER CHILDREN DEAD IN A CAR CRASH."
Her world shattered.
Desmond entered her room, his expression cold. He took her phone and snapped her SIM card in half.
"You're dead," he said. "And dead people don't talk."
Alicia's blood boiled.
"I hate you," she spat. "I'll tell everyone the truth!"
SMACK!
The slap knocked her to the ground. She tasted blood.
Desmond crouched down, his voice a whisper of ice.
"Say that again," he warned, "and I'll make sure you never see another sunrise."
That night, he proved he meant it.
He tied her to a chair, locked Cara in the bathroom, and turned to Sara.
Alicia screamed. "Please, don't—"
But Desmond only smirked.
And Sara cried.
The next day, Alicia stopped begging.
She started planning.
One night, while Desmond was distracted, Alicia crept into his office.
She found his laptop. His secrets.
And then—she heard a voice.
"So," a familiar laugh echoed. "You finally figured it out."
Alicia turned.
Standing in the doorway was Pammi—her best friend.
Dressed in a silk robe, her lips curved into a smirk.
"You shouldn't be here, Alicia," Pammi said.
Alicia's stomach twisted. Pammi stepped aside, revealing a shirtless guard, his lips still swollen from kisses.
"You… You married him?" Alicia whispered.
Pammi chuckled.
"Of course. And I'll be the one to carry his true heir."
Betrayal sliced through Alicia's chest.
There was no time for pain.
She grabbed the house blueprint and ran.
That night, she woke Sara and Cara.
"It's time to go," she whispered.
Together, they climbed out the window. They ran.
But before they could reach the fence—
A voice sliced through the night.
"Going somewhere?"
Alicia's heart stopped.
Desmond stood under the moonlight, gun in hand. His men surrounded him.
"Where are the children?" he demanded.
"You'll never find them," Alicia said.
Desmond's jaw tightened.
"Then you'll never see another sunrise."
Alicia lifted her chin. "One day, Desmond… you'll beg my daughters for mercy."
BANG!
Pain exploded in her chest. She gasped, stumbling.
Her last thought was of Sara and Cara—running. Escaping. Living.
The nightmare was over for her.
But for Desmond?
It was just beginning.