ARÉT'S POV
The quiet hum of a ceiling fan was the first thing I noticed. Then the throbbing in my stomach. I blinked at the white ceiling, gathering my thoughts and trying to remember where I was before I woke up here.
I jolted halfway up, panic slamming into my chest, only for soft hands to gently press me back down.
"Easy. Easy there, don't hurt yourself."
It was a woman. Probably in her thirties, with her hair in a bun and a soft smile on her face. She wore casual jeans and a blouse, but there was a stethoscope around her neck, and that told me everything I needed to know.
Doctor.
Not a rescuer. Not a savior. Just someone doing their job.
"How do you feel?" she asked gently, helping me lean back and passing me a glass of water.
I didn't hesitate. I drank like I hadn't tasted anything in days. My throat burned from how fast I gulped it.
She smiled faintly. "The baby's fine. Stressed… but fine."
I choked.
The water went down wrong, and I coughed so hard I felt like my lungs were tearing in half.
"The what?"
Her face shifted into concern. Like she hadn't expected that reaction.
"You didn't know?" she asked, softly, slowly taking the glass from my hand. "You're six weeks pregnant."
No.
No.
No, no, no, no.
"You've been through a lot these last forty-eight hours. Honestly, your body nearly induced a miscarriage. I had to sedate you."
Her voice was gentle. Her eyes were kind. But I wasn't hearing any of it.
Six weeks? Pregnant?
I didn't feel anything except the blood draining from my face and the slow dizzy tilt of the room.
Everything in me went still.
I was frozen, stuck somewhere between shock and horror. I couldn't even cry.
"Where am I?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Please say hospital. Please say hospital. Please say not here.
She hesitated. Her eyes flicked away for a second. And in that second, I already knew.
"You're in Dante Valemont's mansion," she said. Softly. Like saying it gently would make it better.
It didn't.
It made everything so, so much worse.
Bits and pieces started clicking together. My step sister's birthday party. The glass of wine. My overly nice step mother who has drugged me with the wine.
I gasped, sitting up again. "Oh my God," I whispered.
I had almost induced a miscarriage by drinking wine, without even knowing I was pregnant.
I hadn't thought anything of the missed period. My cycle wasn't exactly punctual, and besides, Micheal always used protection.
Micheal.
Micheal.
My stomach flipped. My chest squeezed so tight I thought I'd puke. He had to be going crazy looking for me. Holy shit.
I turned to the doctor with wide eyes, grabbing at her hand. "Do you have a phone? Please, I've been kidnapped, I need to call my boyfriend. The police. Someone. Anyone!"
My voice cracked. "I'm pregnant. I shouldn't be here. He'll kill me or... or do horrible things to me. Please, help me. Please."
But she didn't look moved.
She didn't flinch.
Instead, she slowly stood up and folded her arms, her face distant like she wasn't even in the room with me anymore.
"Master Dante is a good man," she said softly, almost like she was trying to convince herself. "This is the first time he's ever brought a woman here… unwillingly. I'm sure he has his reasons."
I blinked.
Was she serious?
"What the actual hell is wrong with you?" I snapped. "What kind of brainwashed cult is this? Master Dante? Do you hear yourself?"
Her expression didn't even shift.
I scrambled closer to the edge of the bed, trying to reach for her again. "Look, I was trafficked. Brought here against my will. There's no 'good reason' for that, okay? None. You're a doctor, for God's sake. You're supposed to help people--"
She swatted my hand away like I was a fly.
Then calmly walked to the chair in the corner, picked up her handbag, and slung it over her shoulder like this was just another day in her life.
"I'll check on you again tomorrow," she said without looking back. Then she opened the door and left.
I was heaving. Who the hell was Dante Valemont?
Master?
Who called a man that in the twenty-first century unless they were in some creepy-ass cult or BDSM fanfiction?
I had to get out. I had to leave if I wanted to live. If I wanted this baby... my baby... to live.
I slid off the bed, legs still a little shaky. I looked down and noticed the oversized black shirt hanging off me like a tent… and the underwear.
Black panties. My size.
I definitely hadn't been wearing them before.
So he could get me panties that fit, but not actual clothes?
What was this? Some fantasy delusion where I was supposed to wake up in his shirt and swoon like it was romantic?
Hell no.
I rushed to the door, heart pounding as I reached for the knob fully expecting it to be locked.
It opened.
Just like that. No resistance. No code. No guard.
Weird.
I crept into the hallway, which was so pristine and silent I could hear the soft pad of my feet against the marble floor. Everything was polished to a sterile shine, like a luxury prison. No pictures. No clutter. Just long, endless walls and silence.
Until I found the staircase.
It curved downward, sweeping in that dramatic way only castles or very rich assholes with too much space would have. And that's when I heard it.
A moan.
I froze.
Then silence.
I kept going.
One step. Another. Until the sound came again, clearer this time. Slap. Moan. Gasp.
Oh, for the love of...
By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, I didn't see it first, I heard it. The wet slap of skin meeting skin. The soft, breathy cries of a woman losing herself. The faint creak of wood from the dining chair beneath them.
And when I turned the corner, there he was.
Him. The devil.
Dante Valemont.
Sitting back like a king at a feast, a woman straddling him. Her bare back arched, hips rising and falling in perfect time. Her long hair stuck to her skin, her hands clutching his shoulders, but it was his hands I noticed most.
Unnaturally pale. Big. Firm.
Guiding her.
And then our eyes met.
He didn't flinch. Didn't freeze. No shame. No panic.
Just that smug little smirk, like he'd been expecting me to walk in on this. Like this whole moment had been staged for my benefit.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something. I wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk off his stupid, stupid face.
For the first time, I saw him clearly in daylight.
And the worst part?
He was beautiful.
Like cruel, cold beauty that made your heart skip but your gut twist.
And I hated that my body noticed.
Yes, he was handsome. Obscenely so.
The kind of handsome that didn't even feel real up close. Sharp cheekbones, cruel mouth, that annoyingly perfect nose; all carved like he was genetically engineered to ruin people.
He didn't stop pounding into her. Didn't flinch. Just kept staring at me with those stupid, unreadable eyes.
I had read all the articles.
The ones calling him a Greek god reborn. The genius CEO. The mysterious recluse.
I'd seen the thirst edits of him on TikTok... slow motion clips of him walking into conferences, voiceovers layered with moans and slutty background music.
I used to fawn over those.
Who knew the man behind the camera flashes and Forbes covers was a fucking human trafficker?
I could already see the headlines as he slammed his filthy, probably overly huge cock into the woman on top of him.
"Dante Valemont, billionaire CEO of Valley Group Industries, accused of kidnapping and human trafficking. Victim claims she was pregnant and held against her will."
What a circus it would be.
But I also knew, deep down, he'd get away with it.
Men like him always did.
Who would believe it? That Dante Valemont, dream of the internet, fantasy of boardrooms, the Greek god of finance had kidnapped a woman?
Especially someone like me. A plain pregnant girl.
They'd find my TikTok.
The one I hadn't deleted, where I'd reposted one of his edits, gushed about how he looked like sin in a suit.
They'd paint me as a stalker. A delusional fangirl who crossed a line and made up a story when things didn't go her way.
And he knew that.
He knew he could do whatever he wanted, take whoever he wanted, and walk away without a scratch.
He was a monster.
A stunning, smirking monster, who didn't need to hide the evil on his face because the world was too distracted by how pretty he looked.
And I was trapped.
Inside his house.
Inside his shirt.
With my boyfriend's baby.