Not more than I love you
Dora woke to a strange stillness, too quiet, too close. Then she felt it. A rough hand slid over her swollen belly. Hot breath ghosted over her neck. Her entire body stiffened in terror.
She didn’t dare open her eyes.
The dread crept in like a slow poison. Her breath hitched, her chest rising in short, panicked bursts. She tried to keep still, tried to calm the storm in her chest, but her body betrayed her. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to rip that hand off her. But she couldn’t move, not with her wrists bound. Not with him so close.
Even her baby kicked, l hard and angry, like it could feel her disgust.
The man laughed softly behind her.
“Already reacting to my touch,” he whispered, voice smooth and sickening. “Our baby knows me.”
Dora’s breath caught in her throat. She felt like she was suffocating.
“I know you’re awake,” he murmured, tightening his grip around her cuffs.
She opened her eyes slowly. Her tears had finally broken free. She yanked her hands away, but it was no use. His grip was like iron.
This wasn’t just fear. This was helplessness. Crippling, suffocating helplessness.
If she wanted her baby to live… she might have to give in.
A soft sob slipped from her lips.
“Baby,” he said sweetly, and the word made her flinch.
“Shh… don’t cry,” he whispered and slowly moved away from her.
The moment she felt him leave the bed, Dora exhaled a shaky breath. She sat up with effort, using her cuffed hands, her head lowered. Her fingers clutched the blanket tightly, like it was her only shield from him. She didn’t look up. Couldn’t.
He stood nearby, smiling. Watching.
She hated how small he made her feel.
But what chilled her even more was how much he liked it.
He watched her silently, then tilted his head. “You never liked attention,” he murmured, almost fondly. “That’s what makes you different.”
She risked a glance at him, just for a second, then turned to the door, praying to see a familiar face.
Her voice came out cracked and raw. “Where…” she swallowed, “…where’s Lindy?”
He slowly walked around the bed, stopping right in front of her.
“She doesn’t work for you anymore,” he said, staring at her wet cheeks.
Her heart dropped.
“Did you…?” she tried to speak but the words caught in her throat.
“She shouldn’t have tried to help you escape,” he said simply, like it meant nothing. He leaned closer.
Dora’s breath hitched again.
He reached out and gently wiped her tears.
She shrank back, drawing her knees to her chest.
“It’s not your fault,” he said calmly. “She brought it on herself.”
Then he said it.
“She’s dead.”
Dora froze.
She stared at him, eyes wide with horror.
“You… you killed her,” she whispered.
“She didn’t deserve that,” she cried, her voice breaking completely.
Tears flooded her face now, falling hard and fast. Her body trembled with the weight of it all.
“She was innocent,” she said through sobs. “She just wanted to help.”
He waited until she was quiet, then spoke with chilling calmness.
“Every mistake has a consequence.”
He moved closer, his hand brushing against her bare arm. She whimpered again, shrinking away.
His fingers pushed the thin strap of her nightdress off her shoulder.
Dora’s body shivered.
“You’re safe,” he said softly, “because I made a promise, not to touch you until you deliver our child.”
Then his voice dropped lower. Darker.
“But don’t mistake my patience for weakness. If you try to escape again… I will break that promise.”
He cupped her face firmly and tilted her head to face him.
“I’ll take you so hard, you’ll forget your own name.”
Fear. Panic. Dread. That’s all he saw in her eyes.
And it angered him.
He wanted love. But it wasn’t there.
“Understood?” he asked, stroking her bruised cheek with his thumb.
She nodded weakly.
“Understood?” he asked again, this time with a raised brow.
“Yes,” she whispered.
When he leaned in, she winced. Then his lips touched the tear on her cheek.
He smiled, satisfied with her reaction.
“What did I say about being scared of me?” he said with amusement.
"You don’t like tears," she said quickly, hoping it would satisfy him and make him pull away.
But to her horror, he did the same thing to her other cheek, wiped it slowly, as if enjoying her discomfort.
"Next time I see tears on your beautiful face," he murmured, "I’ll wipe them the same way. Not that I’m complaining." He leaned back just an inch.
Dora froze. Her breath caught in her throat. She prayed, desperately for this nightmare to end. For someone, anyone, to save her from the monster holding her captive.
His thumb now brushed her trembling lips. His hands cupped her face. Her skin crawled.
She wanted to vanish. To dig a hole and bury herself deep, just to escape his touch.
"Austin," she whispered, barely audible.
That single name changed everything. He froze.
She opened her eyes, and instantly regretted it.
He was staring at her lips with pure, raw hunger.
"If I hear that name again from your pretty little mouth," he said, his nose almost touching hers, "I’ll give you a reason to scream my name instead."
Tears welled up, but she blinked hard, determined not to let them fall. She couldn’t bear him touching her again.
"Bathroom, please," she stammered.
He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.
"First, say you love me."
He wasn’t fooled. He could read her like an open book. He knew she just wanted to get away.
He waited.
She couldn't breathe. Her heart thundered in her chest. Her mind was chaos.
She felt like screaming, running, dying, anything but standing there.
But after what happened yesterday, hope was dead.
Then, he moved. One hand trailed down her neck, over her collarbone, towards her chest.
Dora panicked.
She blurted out the words he wanted.
"I love you," she whispered, barely holding back her tears.
He smiled, lifted her chin, and kissed her forehead.
"Not more than I love you."
And finally, he stepped back.
Dora could breathe again. She gasped for air like someone who’d just escaped drowning.
He returned with a key, unlocked her cuffs, and gently kissed her wrist.
"Fifteen minutes. One second more, I’m coming in. And don’t lock the door. We don’t want another... accident." And with that, he left.
Dora rushed to the bathroom as fast as her weak body could carry her.
The moment she closed the door, she collapsed, covered her mouth, and wept silently.
Because of her… someone was dead.
Twenty-four hours ago, Lindy was alive. Her nurse. Her only friend. The kind soul who tried to help her escape after hearing the truth.
But the gods weren’t done punishing her.
They were caught.
And Lindy’s throat was slit right in front of her eyes.
She watched the life drain out of the only person who cared.
She held Lindy’s bleeding body, her hands soaked in blood she couldn't save.
Dora slid down the door, consumed by guilt.
It was her fault. If only she’d kept quiet… If only she hadn't told Lindy the truth.
At least then, she wouldn’t be alone. She would have someone.
Now, she only had him.
She remembered the hospital. The panic attack. The brief hope.
She’d been sedated… and she thought she saw Austin.
The memory chilled her.
If her captor ever found out that she begged a stranger for help, mistaking him for Austin, he’d carry out his threat.
She placed a trembling hand on her belly.
"Please help us, Austin," she whispered inwardly, afraid to even say his name aloud.
And to her unborn child, she murmured through broken sobs:
"I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Mumma put you in danger."
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