Brielle

As I lie on the medical bed, my wrists and ankles strapped down, I can’t help but think about how I got here.

One minute, I was in college, in love with my boyfriend, and the next, I was being raped by a monster. A monster who took what he wasn’t offered.

“You thought you could get away with this?” Anthony shouted as he held my hands down and took and took and took. “This body was supposed to be mine!”

I wish I could say this was the first time my control had been taken from me, but I was raised by Andrey Antonov, the king of needing to be in control. He might be my father, but family means nothing to him, and women are nothing more than a commodity to be used to further his agenda.

Growing up, if I didn’t do as he wanted, he would make sure there were consequences. Rather than demanding respect, he thrived on people’s fear.

My brothers, Dominick and Matteo, would try to save me, but I hated that, in turn, Andrey would hurt them. So, I learned from an early age that if I relinquished all control, we would be safe from our father’s wrath.

He wanted me to go to a private school. I went.

He wanted me to stay a virgin to marry his business associate’s son. I kept my legs closed.

He insisted I go to a college not too far from where we lived. I went to the college he allowed me to go to.

He picked out the apartment I would live in near campus. I thanked him.

But the moment I was out of his home, something in me snapped. Maybe it was the distance that made me bolder. Or being away from home that allowed me to get comfortable.

But little by little, I started to take back my control.

I changed my major from arts and humanities to accounting.

I purchased a second phone so he couldn’t track my whereabouts.

I met a boy and fell in love, and I gave him my virginity.

I started to make plans, ones that didn’t include marrying Anthony Rothschild.

But me thinking I was in control was nothing more than an illusion.

And that was proven the night Anthony forced himself on me.

I begged him to stop.

But I wasn’t in control.

Then my father found out about my boyfriend, and I begged him not to kill him.

But I wasn’t in control.

Andrey found out I was pregnant.

And because Andrey Antonov always has to be in control, we’ve ended up here—at a clinic, where he’s paying a doctor to abort my baby.

“Please,” I beg, unsure if anyone can even hear me. “Please don’t take my baby.”

“You did this,” Andrey hisses, coming into view.

He towers over me, a look of disgust marring his features. “You’re a whore who chose to spread her legs, and now I’m forced to fix the problem you created.”

“Please,” I say again. “I’m sorry. The baby might be Anthony’s⁠—”

“Enough!” he barks and then leans in close to my face. “No daughter of mine will have a bastard born out of wedlock. It’s bad enough you’re now damaged goods.”

“He … he raped me,” I whisper.

“Because you’d spread your legs for another man!” His hand connects with my cheek, and I choke out a sob. “You’re a disgrace to this family, and when they’re done taking the bastard out of you, you’re coming home.”

I close my eyes and blink back my tears, not wanting to give him any more of myself. And when I open them, a gentleman in a white lab coat is standing over me. With his dirty-blond hair, soft green eyes, and a small belly hanging over his belt, he doesn’t appear to be threatening, but right now, he’s the most dangerous person in the room … because he’s about to take my baby—and destroy my heart in the process.

“Before we do the procedure, I need to confirm there is a pregnancy,” the doctor says.

I watch the screen as he moves the probe around my belly. And when a loud whooshing sound hits the quiet room, I release a sob, unable to hold it back anymore.

My baby.

My sweet, innocent baby is going to be taken from me before he or she ever gets a chance to breathe.

The doctor nods and then lifts a mask over my face.

“Don’t worry,” he says as my head becomes fuzzy. “You won’t feel a thing.”

If only that were true …

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