Before we left the house this morning, I stood in front of the mirror to get dressed and I was caught in a trance by my stomach. It’s still flat, but I can feel the baby more with each passing day.

The life that’s been making itself marginally unnoticeable is finally peeking out, reminding me of why I’m here in the first place.

To produce an heir.

And while the objectification, the coercion, and the humiliation still hurt, I don’t regret the child. This baby is the one thing that’s making me hold on to life, surviving day to day, knowing that I’m not living for myself alone anymore.

I’m going to be a mother. And if mine was any indication, mothers sacrifice for their children. Mothers protect their children from the monstrosities of the world, with their lives if they have to.

We go the OBG-YN, too, and she tells us that the baby is healthy. Adrian places a hand at the small of my back, leading me out of the building and to the car that’s waiting outside. I don’t miss the possessive gesture whenever we’re in public, like he’s marking his territory for everyone to see.

I try to ignore his presence, his touch, and his wood and leather scent that’s become stronger over the past couple of weeks. But it’s impossible to erase Adrian, no matter how much I try. Not only because he forced me to marry him, but also because of everything he does.

The way he cares for me, how he sits beside me on the sofa and places my feet on his lap to massage them. Since the cast was removed, he’s been taking care of rubbing oil on my leg. I don’t even like to look at the hideous scar right beneath my knee, but he takes over the task with effortless ease.

I hate how he holds my hair and strokes my back whenever I’m hit by morning sickness. Or how he tells the head of his staff, a tenacious woman named Ogla, not to cook food with strong smells.

I hate that he makes me come before he fucks me, how my pleasure is always prioritized before his, and how he’s never made me pleasure him. I hate how he cleans me after he’s done and then throws a nightgown over my head so I won’t get cold.

But most of all, I hate the way he holds me to him, even when I turn away from him, as if having me sleep in his arms is his favorite position. Apparently, it’s mine, too, because my nightmares have slowly disappeared since I moved out of my apartment.

It would have been easier to erase Adrian if he were the heartless monster I paint him to be in my head. Though he is heartless, he’s not when it comes to his offspring. His care and all these gestures are only his way to ease the birth of his heir. Once that happens, he’ll probably demote me to the background.

My feet falter on the sidewalk a short distance away from the car when I see a few homeless people huddled near the corner, begging for money.

My heart aches for them, but at the same time, I envy the freedom they have. They might not wear an enormous diamond ring and live in a palace that’s guarded by a hundred men, but they at least have freedom and the ability to go anywhere.

“Is it someone you know?” Adrian asks from my side, his voice low but firm.

Since our wedding night, he’s been a bit distant, either issuing orders or sounding frigid like right now. We’ve lost the somewhat carefree conversations we used to have back in my apartment. But that probably has more to do with the silent treatment I’ve been using against him.

I shake my head.

“Use your fucking voice, Lia.” He leans in to whisper in a threatening tone. “This isn’t the bedroom, so you don’t need to start a rebellion.”

I stare at him square in the face. He didn’t win that war. I did.

As promised, he fucked me over and over again that night. It was the longest we’ve ever gone, and even though I lost count of how many times I orgasmed, I never let him hear my voice until I collapsed.

It’s been the same every night—or day, really—since he seeks me out at all hours. Adrian tries to make me moan or scream, but I either bite my lip or the pillow or my hand if I have to.

He lost the right to hear my voice that night.

“I thought I was better as a mute.” I push past him and settle in the car, letting the bag fall to my lap.

Adrian joins me soon after, and the sound of his door closing causes a brick to settle at the bottom of my stomach.

“That’s one, Lia,” he murmurs.

My heart thumps, no matter how much I don’t want it to or how much I fight it. My body is attuned to him in ways even I can’t understand. I’m addicted to his rough touch and merciless punishments.

I come undone in no time, and that sense of levitating has never changed. If anything, it’s been heightening over the weeks.

But it’s just a physical connection. A meaningless one.

I’ll get over it someday. I have to.

Scoffing, I focus ahead as Yan kills his cigarette and slides into the passenger seat. Kolya kicks the car into gear and pulls out into the busy street.

“Two.” Adrian takes my hand in his and nibbles down on my pinkie before sucking it into his mouth.

A whole body shiver overtakes me and I try to free myself, but he bites down harder, then speaks against my skin, “I told you not to pull away from me again. Three.”

Giving up the futile fight, I stare out the window at the buzzing city. My appointments with the doctors are the only time I get to leave the cage Adrian has built for me, and it’s my only chance to see people and the life that’s going on around me.

It’s odd how I never focused on it when I used to drive to and from rehearsal, but humans don’t realize what they’re missing until it’s snatched away from them.

If I’d known, I would’ve paid better attention.

Luca hasn’t gotten in touch since that time at the lingerie store. I can’t call him either, because Adrian not only got me a new phone number, but I’m sure he’s also having it tracked.

And since I don’t go out alone, I assume it’s hard for Luca to find an opening to get in touch.

That’s why I need to provide him with that opening, because if there’s anyone who can help get me out from under Adrian’s steel-like hold, it’s Luca.

I spot a tent under which people are serving hot soup to the homeless. The image of the man in front of the hospital comes to mind and an idea strikes me.

It takes me a few minutes to organize my thoughts in a way that won’t send Adrian’s red flags up. If he gets a whiff of what I’m doing, he’ll lock me in a cell until I give birth.