Coming home
The knock at the door came sharp and deliberate three measured raps that cut through the quiet hum of the apartment like a blade.
I froze mid-motion my fingers still buried in the soil of the small herb planter on the windowsill. The faint green scent of basil rose up as I brushed the leaves grounding me for just a second before my pulse spiked. Galileo lifted his head from his bed in the corner of the living room a low rumble starting in his chest.
"Shh," I whispered wiping my hands on the dish towel tucked into the waistband of my maternity leggings. My belly had rounded noticeably now four months along edging toward five. I rested a hand on the firm curve feeling the occasional flutter that still startled me every time.
The alias had held so far: "Zoe Carter," a quiet pregnant widow who'd moved in two and a half months ago. The leasing office hadn't asked too many questions once the first month's rent cleared in cash. I kept to myself used delivery for most groceries and only ventured out for short walks with Galileo when the neighborhood felt empty.
Matthew's calls had slowed then stopped about six weeks ago. I'd started to believe he'd finally given up.
Apparently not.
Another knock, firmer this time. No voice. Just patient, insistent silence on the other side of the door.
My heart hammered. I stood there for a long moment, debating. Maybe it was a delivery. Maybe the landlord checking on something. Part of the exhausted lonely part wanted to believe it wasn't him or was...
I crossed the room slowly Galileo shadowing me closely. My cane stayed folded in my bag I didn't bother with it inside my own space. With a shaky breath I reached for the deadbolt turned it and pulled the door open.
Cool hallway air brushed my face carrying the faint scent of whatever cleaning solution the building used.
Before I could even say "Yes?" or ask who it wasnhis voice came low and steady through the open doorway.
"Annabelle."
My stomach dropped like a stone. Not Zoe. Annabelle.
It was him.
Panic flared hot and immediate. I shoved the door forward with all my strength trying to slam it shut before he could step inside. But his hand was already there slipping into the frame just as the door swung. The edge caught his fingers hard with a dull sickening thud of wood meeting flesh and bone.
I froze, breath caught in my throat. Through the gap I could hear nothing from him no grunt, no curse, no flinch. Just the steady unrelenting pressure of his hand wedged between the door frame.
"Matthew—" I started my voice cracking with fear and disbelief.
He didn't answer. Didn't make a sound. The hand stayed exactly where it was solid and unmoving. I knew that leather cuff was still on his wrist the matching one to the coral bracelet I still couldn't bring myself to remove.
The smell lingered near my nose.
Galileo whined softly at my side his tail thumping once against my leg torn between old loyalty and the tension rolling off me in waves.
I leaned my weight against the door trying to force it the last inch but his hand held firm. Not pushing in. Not retreating. Just there silent, stubborn, and bleeding probably waiting like he had all the time in the world.
My pulse roared in my ears. Four months of running, of fake names, and sleeping with one hand on my growing belly and the other buried in Galileo's fur and here he was saying nothing refusing to let the door close.
The baby moves as if sensing the storm on the other side of the thin wood.
I kept my shoulder braced against the door trembling and the faint metallic scent of blood now mixing with the hallway air.
The pressure on the other side of the door increased steadily inexorably. I pushed back with everything I had my shoulder braced my feet planted but Matthew was stronger. The door gave way inch by inch until it swung fully open forcing me to stumble backward into the apartment.
He stepped inside without a word his presence filling the small space instantly. I heard the soft click of the deadbolt as he closed the door behind him locking us in. The familiar scent of him clean soap, faint leather, and that steady warmth I once found comforting washed over me now laced with something sharper the metallic tang of blood from his injured hand.
"Matthew, don't—" I started my voice high and thin with panic.
Galileo whined louder circling anxiously between us but he didn't growl.
Traitor.
Matthew's hand steady the one not bleeding found my arm with that old unerring accuracy. His grip wasn't bruising but it was firm enough that I knew I couldn't pull away easily. "Easy, sweetheart," he murmured his voice low and calm the same tone he used when I used to wake from nightmares or have someone be unkind to me about my disability.
"You're coming home. Both of you."
I tried to twist free my free hand flying protectively to my rounded belly. "No. Let go. I'm not—"
He moved fast. One arm slid around my waist pulling me against his chest with careful strength so I didn't lose my balance. Before I could scream or fight harder, I felt the prick sharp and quick against the side of my neck. A needle. He'd come prepared.
"No—Matthew—please—" My words slurred almost immediately as whatever he'd injected spread like ice through my veins. My legs buckled. The room tilted. Galileo's worried whine sounded far away echoing strangely.
"I've got you," Matthew said softly catching me as I went limp. "It's safe for the baby. Just something to help you rest. I won't let anything happen to either of you."
Darkness swallowed the edges of my vision. I tried to push against his chest tried to call for Galileo but my body wouldn't obey. The last thing I registered was the solid feel of his arms cradling me one under my knees, the other supporting my back and the swell of my belly lifting me effortlessly as if I weighed nothing.
When awareness returned it came in slow hazy waves. My head felt heavy almost like it was cotton-filled. There was motion the low smooth rumble of a car engine and the faint vibration of tires on pavement. I was reclined in the passenger seat seatbelt carefully fastened across my chest and lap a soft blanket tucked around me. My wrists weren't bound but a heavy fatigue still weighted my limbs
Galileo's tags jingled softly from the back seat. He was there too.
Matthew's hand rested lightly on my thigh his thumb brushing slow soothing circles even as he drove. "You're awake," he said quietly no surprise in his voice. "We'll be home soon. Just rest. The doctor's already waiting someone discreet who knows how to check on the baby after sedation. Everything's going to be okay now, Annabell."
My tongue felt thick. I wanted to scream to demand he turn the car around to tell him I hated him for this. But the drugs still lingered and fear for the baby kept me silent. My hand drifted to my stomach.
Matthew's voice stayed calm reassuring and terrifying in its certainty. "You ran because you were scared. I understand. But you don't have to be scared anymore. You're mine. He is mine. I'm bringing you both home where you belong."
The highway hummed beneath us. I closed my useless eyes and felt tears slip down my cheeks silent and helpless.
He had taken me.
And I still didn't know whether the man driving this car was my protector... or the monster I'd fled from.
The car hummed steadily along the highway the low vibration doing nothing to calm the nausea still rolling through me from whatever he'd injected. My head lolled against the seat my limbs heavy with residual sedation. Galileo's occasional soft whine from the back seat was the only other sound besides the tires on pavement and Matthew's controlled breathing.
After several long minutes of silence his voice cut through the haze low, measured, but edged with something sharper than I'd ever heard from him before.
"You shouldn't have run, Annabell."
The words landed heavy not shouted but scolding in that disappointed parental way that made my stomach twist worse than the drugs.
"I gave you space. I waited. I called, I texted, I searched every lead I had. Four months. Do you have any idea what that did to me? Knowing you were out there alone, pregnant, vulnerable, blind, with only Galileo to protect you? You disappeared on me. Used a fake name. Cash payments. You thought you were clever, didn't you?"
I swallowed hard my tongue still thick. My hand instinctively pressed against the swell of my belly under the blanket but I stayed silent. I hadn't told him anything about the pregnancy. Not a word. When he'd mentioned the test during that phone call months ago I'd hung up and blocked him before confirming if it was positive or negative. He'd been hunting me this entire time on nothing but suspicion and that single Instacart receipt.
Matthew's grip on the steering wheel tightened I knew when I heard the faint creak of leather. "The email customer service from the Instacart account finally gave me the confirmation I needed, then I followed the paper trail from there hacking surveillance, wasn't that difficult. Delivery to 'Zoe Carter' at that run-down apartment. Then watching delivery drivers drop off Ginger ale. Saltines like I wouldn't notice the scheduled routine activity. You never even told me the result. Positive or negative you left me guessing while you hid my child from me."
He exhaled slowly the sound tight with restrained anger. "That was cruel, Annabell. Not just running because you overheard me handling that piece of shit who assaulted you. But hiding the pregnancy? Letting me wonder every single day if you were sick somewhere, scared, or worse whether my son was growing inside you while you played house with a fake name and a half-empty crib in the corner."
My breath hitched. He knew it was a boy. Of course he did. He'd probably pulled every record, every ultrasound note, and every clinic visit tied to the alias once he narrowed it down.
"You think I'm a monster now because I killed the man who put his hands on you?" His voice dropped lower scolding turning colder. "I did what any man who loves his woman would do to keep her safe. Clean. No loose ends. And instead of trusting me and talking to me you ran. You put yourself and our baby at risk. Walking alone for miles. Living in that cheap apartment with thin walls and god-knows-what neighbors. What if something had happened? What if you'd gotten hurt or your place robbed like this place has at least once a week?"
The baby moved under my palm as if echoing his words. I bit my lip to keep from crying out in overwhelming emotion.
Matthew reached over his hand finding my thigh again the touch firm and possessive. "You're done running. We're going home. The doctor's already waiting someone discreet who knows how to check you both over and make sure the sedation didn't cause any issues. You'll rest and eat properly. Let me take care of you the way I should have been doing these past four months."
He paused the scolding tone softening just slightly into that familiar steady warmth though the steel underneath remained. "I love you, Annabell. That hasn't changed. But you will not disappear on me again. Not with my son inside you. We're a family now. Whether you're ready to accept it or not."
Tears slipped silently down my cheeks. The coral bracelet felt heavy on my wrist. His leather cuff was probably still on his arm.
I stayed quiet his hand cradling the undeniable proof of the life we'd made before everything shattered. He had found me. He had taken me.
And as the car carried us farther from the apartment I'd tried to build alone. I still didn't know whether the man beside me was my salvation or my cage.
The car continued its smooth glide down the highway the miles slipping away under us while my body fought the lingering fog of the sedative.
Matthew's hand stayed heavy and warm on my thigh his thumb stroking slow possessive circles that felt unmistakably controlling.
"You're quiet," he said after a long stretch of silence his voice low and firm carrying that calm authority I knew too well. "I know you're awake. Speak."
I kept my face turned toward the window one hand still cradling the firm swell of my belly where our son kicked restlessly. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to explain why you thought running was acceptable." His tone sharpened dominant and unyielding leaving no room for evasion. "Four months, Annabell. You took my son and disappeared. Fake name. Cash. Dodging every trace. You really believed you could hide from me while carrying my child?"
I swallowed heat and fear twisting together in my chest. "You killed a man. I heard you on the phone calm like it was just another task. How was I supposed to stay after that?"
"Because I protect what's mine," he replied his grip tightening on my thigh just enough to emphasize the point without bruising. "That piece of trash put his hands on you. I made sure he would never touch you or anyone again. Clean. Efficient. And your response was to run like a frightened child instead of facing me. Instead of trusting that I would handle everything. Like I had ever hurt you before."
He exhaled slowly the sound edged with restrained frustration. "You hid the pregnancy from me. You ordered those tests on my card and never confirmed a damn thing. Positive. Negative. You left me wondering for months while you played house alone in that pathetic apartment. Do you understand how reckless that was? You're blind, pregnant, and you decided solitude was safer than me."
The baby moved hard under my palm. Matthew noticed immediately his hand slid from my thigh to cover mine on my belly large palm pressing possessively over the swell.
"Our son," he said his voice dropping into a deeper more commanding register. "He's been growing without his father because you chose fear over loyalty. That stops now. You're coming home. No more running. No more aliases. No more locking doors or blocking numbers. You will stay where I can see you, where I can keep both of you safe."
I bit my lip tears slipping silently down my cheeks. His touch was firm and dominant the kind that reminded me exactly who held the power here. He wasn't soothing me with soft "good girl" praise right now he was stating facts, drawing the new and boundaries with clear uncompromising lines.
"When we get home the doctor will examine you and the baby. You'll follow every instruction he gives. Then you'll eat. You'll rest. And you will not leave the house without my permission. Is that clear?"
His voice carried the weight of finality. Not angry shouting but the quiet certainty of a man who expected obedience.
I stayed silent for a beat too long.
"Annabell." The single word was a warning low and dominant. "Answer me."
My throat tightened. The coral bracelet felt heavier than ever on my wrist. I finally whispered my voice barely audible over the engine, "Yes... it's clear."
Matthew gave a single n satisfied nod I couldn't see but could feel in the shift of his posture. His hand remained possessively over my belly claiming both me and the son I'd tried to keep from him.
"Good. We'll deal with the rest of your choices later. For now, you're right where you belong. With me."
The car sped on toward the house in the quiet suburb. Galileo settled in the back with a heavy sigh. I kept my hand trapped under Matthew's feeling our son move between us once again under the steady unrelenting control of the man who refused to let me go.
I pushed further my voice trembling but defiant. "What about your choices?"
The car seemed to grow quieter. Matthew went very still for a moment then let out a slow controlled breath.
"My choices?" he repeated the words low and dangerously quiet laced with dominant authority.
"You mean the choice I made when I put a bullet in the man who assaulted you at the resort?"
He paused letting the weight of it settle.
"That man wasn't some random drunk tourist throwing food and groping a blind woman for fun. He was connected part of a gang that runs drugs, extortion, and girls up and down the coast. The kind of crew that doesn't forgive or forget. They've done far worse than what he did to you. Beatings, rapes, disappearances. They treat women like property and anyone who crosses them like targets."
Matthew's voice stayed steady, commanding, each word deliberate. "I confronted him after what he did to you words only but then I realized exactly who he was. If I had left him breathing, he would've come after you. because he knew I was. No question. You don't think that if he wanted to go after you after I confronted him, he wouldn't have? A blind woman who couldn't even see him coming? His people would've found you without any trouble at all. They hunt down witnesses, girlfriends, anyone who makes them look weak. They don't let insults slide and they sure as hell don't let someone walk away after embarrassing one of their own in public."
His palm pressed a little firmer against my belly dominant and protective all at once. "I wasn't going to allow that to happen. Not to you. So I handled it. Clean. No witnesses that matter, no trail back to us. I made the choice you were too afraid to face the choice that kept you safe instead of leaving you waiting for the day someone kicked in your door or grabbed you off the street because I showed mercy."
The baby flyttered under our joined hands. Matthew didn't soften his tone.
"Running was a mistake. Hiding the pregnancy from me was a mistake. Questioning the decisions I made to keep you alive is another mistake. You will start remembering who keeps you safe even when you don't like how I do it."
He moved his hand back to the steering wheel the leather of the cuff brushing my arm.
The car slowed and turned onto a long smooth driveway. The familiar suburban hum I expected never came. Instead the tires rolled over what sounded like fresh gravel and the air through the cracked window carried the scent of pine trees and open land rather than close-packed neighborhood lawns. This wasn't our old house. This place felt bigger, quieter, and more isolated.
Matthew parked and killed the engine. "We're here."
I sat still and disoriented. "Where is here? This isn't home."
"It is now." His voice was calm, dominant, and brooking no argument. He unbuckled my seatbelt with efficient movements then came around to my side and opened the door. Strong hands guided me out of the car one arm wrapping around my waist to steady me as my legs wobbled from the lingering sedative and the long ride.
Galileo jumped out behind us tags jingling as he stayed close to my leg.
"This is the house my parents left me," Matthew said as he led me forward his grip firm on my arm. "I couldn't access it until I had an heir. Their condition old family rules tied to the inheritance. They wanted proof the bloodline would continue. I showed them the sonograms from the clinic you visited. Once they saw their grandson, they released the property to me immediately."
My stomach twisted. He'd had the sonograms. Of course he had. He'd been watching every move I made for months.
He continued guiding me up what felt like wide stone steps the air cooler and carrying a faint scent of fresh paint and polished wood. "This is our new house. Bigger. Safer. Private. No nosy neighbors. No one to overhear things they shouldn't. And you and our son will be protected here."
The front door opened with a heavy solid click. Cooler indoor air washed over me along with the faint smell of antiseptic.
"The doctor's already inside waiting," Matthew said, his tone leaving no room for protest. "He'll check you over thoroughly make sure the sedation didn't affect the baby and that everything is progressing as it should after four months of you running around on your own."
I tried to pull back slightly panic rising again. "Matthew, I—"
His hand slid to the small of my back pressing me forward with gentle but undeniable force. "No arguing. You're going to let him examine you, Annabell. Then you're going to eat and rest. This isn't up for discussion."
A new male voice spoke from somewhere deeper in the entryway professional, calm. "Annabell it's good to see you. Let's get her settled in the living room so I can run the checks."
Matthew guided me further insidehis presence dominant and unyielding at my side. The house felt vast around me high ceilings, echoing footsteps, and the faint creak of new hardwood under my bare feet. Nothing was familiar. Every step reminded me how completely he had taken control.
Galileo stayed glued to my leg but even he seemed subdued by the new environment.
As the doctor began setting up equipment with quiet efficiency, Matthew's hand never left me resting possessively on my lower back or shoulder a constant reminder that I was no longer free to run.
This was our new house now.
And I was trapped in it with the man who had killed for me, hunted me down, and claimed both me and our unborn son without hesitation.
We entered what felt like a spacious living room. Matthew helped me sit on a wide soft couch his touch lingering as he arranged a throw pillow behind my back.
"The doctor's here," he said his voice low and commanding. "You'll let him do a full check. No fighting me on this."
A calm professional male voice spoke from a few feet away. "Annabell, I'm Dr. Owen. I'll keep this as comfortable as possible. Let's start with basics."
Matthew remained standing right beside me one hand resting on my shoulder as the doctor worked blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, and measuring tape around my belly. The silence stretched while the doctor took readings and made quiet notes.
After several minutes, Dr. Owen cleared his throat. "There are a few concerning things I'm noticing. Your fundal height is measuring a bit small for four to five months your belly isn't quite where we'd expect at this stage. Your blood pressure is also elevated which could be stress-related or the start of something like gestational hypertension. We'll need to monitor that closely."
The doctor continued tone measured. "Have you been doing regular prenatal care? Did you complete the glucose screening test yet? Any bloodwork for anemia or other standard panels?"
I swallowed hard shame and defiance mixing in my chest. My voice came out quiet. "No... I haven't. I only went to the doctor once to get the ultrasound for the sonogram. That's it. I was trying to stay hidden. I used cash and didn't want any records that could lead back to me... or to Matthew."
Matthew's fingers tightened slightly on my shoulder a silent reprimand. The dominance in his posture was palpable even without sight.
Dr. Owen sighed softly. "That's risky, especially with a first pregnancy at your age. Skipping prenatal visits increases complications. We'll draw blood today for a full panel, do a quick glucose check if possible, and I'll schedule an ultrasound for tomorrow to check growth and fluid levels. The small measurement could be nothing some babies are just smallernor it could point to intrauterine growth restriction or other issues. We need to rule things out."
I sat there silently, tears pricking at my useless eyes, the weight of the new house and Matthew's unrelenting control pressing down on me along with the doctor's concerning words. The coral bracelet felt heavy on my wrist as the doctor prepared to draw blood.
The doctor had more instructions, but all I could focus on was Matthew's steady, dominant presence beside me and the fear that my attempt to escape might have already put our baby at risk.
The doctor finished drawing blood and stepped away briefly to run the quick glucose test using a portable meter. Matthew remained right beside me on the couch, his hand never leaving my shoulder or belly as long possessive and dominant a constant reminder of his control.
When Dr. Owen returned his tone was professional but direct. "The glucose reading came back pretty high well above the normal range for a random check. Combined with the slightly small fundal measurement and your lack of prenatal care, I suspect you may have developed gestational diabetes. It's common in pregnancies, especially when stress and irregular eating are involved. The baby is measuring a little bit small for gestational age, but nothing immediately alarming. With proper management, this should be manageable."
I sat very still one hand instinctively cradling my belly. The news landed heavily. Gestational diabetes. Small baby. All because I'd been hiding and barely taking care of myself.
Matthew's grip tightened slightly his voice low and commanding. "Explain what that means for her and the baby."
"Gestational diabetes can cause the baby to grow too large later on or, in some cases, affect growth if uncontrolled," Dr. Harlan continued. "Right now the size is only mildly small likely due to poor nutrition and stress over the last months. We'll monitor closely. For now, I recommend increasing protein intake more frequent smaller meals light walking if approved and strict blood sugar monitoring. She'll need to start prenatal vitamins immediately high quality ones with extra folic acid and iron. Here's a list of the supplements and dietary adjustments I'd like her to follow."
The doctor handed something to Matthew I heard the rustle of paper. "I'll arrange for a proper ultrasound tomorrow morning here at the house to get a better look at growth, amniotic fluid, and placenta. In the meantime, start the prenatals today and watch her diet closely. No skipping meals."
Matthew took the list without hesitation. "She'll follow every instruction. I'll make sure of it."
Dr. Owen nodded. "Good. I'll leave some supplies for blood sugar testing and the initial medications. Call me immediately if her blood pressure spikes or if she experiences any severe symptoms headaches, vision changes, or swelling. Otherwise I'll be back tomorrow for the ultrasound."
After the doctor packed up and left promising to return early the next day the house fell quiet again except for Galileo's soft breathing nearby.
Matthew turned toward me his presence looming even though I couldn't see him. His hand returned to my belly warm and heavy with ownership. "You heard him, Annabelle. Gestational diabetes. A small baby. All because you chose to run and hide instead of letting me take care of you."
His voice dropped lowerndominant and unyielding. "From now on, you eat what I give you, when I give it to you. You take the vitamins. You rest when I say rest. No more excuses. No more rebellion. Our son deserves better than what your fear gave him these past four months."
The words hit me harder than I'd admit. Though obvious when tears pool in my eyes.
He leaned in closer his breath brushing my ear. "You're going to be a good girl and obey me on this. Understood?"
I swallowed hard tears slipping down my cheeks as I nodded slowly my hand still protectively over the gentle swell. "Yes."
Matthew pressed a firm kiss to the top of my head the gesture somehow both tender and controlling. "Good. Let's get you settled in our new bedroom. Tomorrow the ultrasound will show us our boy properly. And you will start fixing what your running almost broke."
The new house felt overwhelmingly large and foreign as Matthew helped me to my feet and started guiding me toward what I assumed was the bedroom. His hand stayed firm and possessive at the small of my back steering me through the unfamiliar layout with the same unyielding confidence he always had.
Tears kept slipping down my cheeks hot and fast. The pregnancy hormones the lingering effects of the sedative, the terrifying new reality of gestational diabetes, and the small baby all crashed over me at once. I tried to hold it back but a choked sob escaped anyway.
Matthew stopped walking. "Annabell."
I shook my head my voice thick and watery. "I don't like you blaming this all on me when this is not all my fault."
The words came out shaky emotional, and raw. More tears followed my shoulders trembling as I stood there in the middle of a house I'd never been in before.
Matthew turned me to face him fully. His hands settled on my upper arms his grip strong and dominant holding me in place so I couldn't pull away or hide my face.
"Not all your fault?" His voice was low, controlled, and edged with clear disapproval. "You overheard one phone call and decided I was the villain. Instead of talking to me, you ran. You used a fake name. You lived off delivery food and barely saw a doctor. You hid my son from me for four months. Barely scraping by from what I gather from your trash. And now you're surprised your blood sugar is high and the baby is measuring small?"
He gave my arms a gentle but firm squeeze making sure I was listening.
"Yes, I killed that man. He was gang-affiliated and would have come after you without hesitation. I made that choice to protect you. But the rest? The skipped appointments, the stress you put on yourself and our child, the malnutrition from hiding like a fugitive? That is on you, Annabell. You chose fear over trust. You chose running over letting me handle things the way I always have. That I would do anything to keep you safe. Anything."
I cried harder the sobs coming louder now pregnancy emotions making it impossible to stop. "You don't understand... I was scared. You talked about killing someone like it was nothing. I didn't know what else to do. And now the baby might have problems because of me..." he was right I didn't eat much with all the bills I didn't have much and I couldn't cook really well being blind.
Matthew's hand moved from my arm to cup my face his thumb wiping away some of the tears with surprising gentleness though his tone stayed dominant and firm.
"Stop. The crying won't fix what's already done. The doctor said it's manageable if we act now. You will eat properly. You will take the prenatals. You will let me monitor your blood sugar. And you will not blame me for the consequences of your own decisions."
He tilted my chin up forcing me to face him even though I couldn't see.
"You're pregnant with my son. That makes you mine to protect and mine to correct when you put both of you at risk. I won't apologize for handling the threat, and I won't let you hide behind tears or excuses. You're going to calm down and take the vitamins tonight and start following the rules. Tomorrow the ultrasound will give us a clearer picture. Until then no more arguing."
His voice dropped even lower commanding now. "Breathe. You're safe now. But you will obey me on this, Annabell. Is that clear?"
I stood there crying quietly the weight of the unfamiliar house, his unrelenting dominance, and the fear for our baby pressing down on me. The coral bracelet felt like a chain on my wrist.
Still sniffling, I managed a small reluctant nod.
Matthew pressed a firm kiss to my forehead. "Good girl."
Matthew didn't wait for me to stop crying. He simply slid one arm around my waist and the other under my knees lifting me effortlessly against his chest as if I weighed nothing.
"Enough tears for now," he said his voice low and firm as he walked through the unfamiliar house. "You're exhausted and emotional. We're getting you fed and into bed."
I turned my face into his shoulder still sniffling. "I'm not hungry."
Matthew let out a short humorless breath. "I didn't ask if you were hungry."
He carried me into what felt like a large kitchen cool tile under his shoes the faint scent of new appliances and something savory warming on the stove. He set me down carefully on a tall stool at the island keeping one hand on my hip to steady me while he moved around the space with practiced ease like he'd already familiarized himself with the layout.
I heard the clink of a plate the soft scrape of utensils and the microwave beeping. A few minutes later the smell of grilled chicken, rice, and steamed vegetables reached me simple, clean, and exactly the kind of meal the doctor would approve of for gestational diabetes.
Matthew returned and placed the plate in front of me then guided a fork into my hand. His other hand rested on the small of my back,
"Eat," he ordered his tone leaving no room for refusal. "Small bites. Slowly. You need protein and steady blood sugar for our son. The doctor was clear, and so am I."
I gripped the fork tighter fresh tears spilling over. "Matthew... I said I'm not hungry. My stomach is still upset from everything—"
"I didn't ask if you were hungry, Annabell." His voice dropped into that deep dominant register that made my spine straighten despite myself. "You will eat what I give you. You ran for four months and barely took care of yourself or our baby. That stops tonight. Eat the food."
When I hesitated he leaned in closer his breath warm against my ear. "You can cry. You can be angry. But you will not starve my son because you're emotional. Take a bite."
I obeyed reluctantly the food tasting like ash despite how carefully he'd prepared it. He stayed right there one hand rubbing slow circles on my lower back while the other occasionally guided the fork when my hands shook too much from crying.
Between bites he spoke quietly but firmly. "Good girl. Keep going. This is what taking care of you looks like now. No more skipping meals. No more hiding. You're going to eat, take your prenatal vitamins, and sleep in our bed tonight where you belong."
After several more forced bites he wiped my cheeks with a cool cloth then helped me take the prenatal vitamin with a glass of water. Only when the plate was mostly empty did he lift me again and carry me upstairs to the bedroom.
The bed was large and new-smelling. He set me down gently helped me change into soft sleep clothes and pulled the covers over me. Galileo jumped up and curled against my side with a heavy sigh.
Matthew sat on the edge of the bed his hand resting possessively over my belly. "Sleep. The doctor will be back in the morning for the ultrasound. And Annabelle..." His voice softened just slightly still dominant but threaded with warning. "If you try to run again, or refuse to take care of yourself and our son, there will be consequences. You're mine now. Both of you. Get used to it."
I lay there in the dark of the unfamiliar room tears still leaking from my useless eyes one hand over my stomach where our son moved faintly.
Matthew stayed seated on the edge of the bed his hand resting heavily over the swell of my belly. For a long moment the room was quiet except for my uneven breathing and the occasional sniffle. Then the tears came harder again hot, messy, pregnancy fueled sobs that I couldn't hold back no matter how hard I tried.
I curled in on myself one arm wrapped protectively around my stomach while the other clutched the sheets. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," I whispered between cries though I wasn't even sure what I was apologizing for anymore. The fear, the guilt over the baby's size, the gestational diabetes diagnosis, the way he'd dragged me back here it all swirled together into one overwhelming wave of emotion.
Matthew exhaled slowly. His dominant posture softened just a fraction as he seemed to realize how deep the hormonal storm was running through me. Without a word he kicked off his shoes and shifted fully onto the bed behind me. The mattress dipped under his weight as he pulled me gently but firmly against his chest spooning me from behind.
"Shh, Annabelle," he murmured his voice lower now, still commanding but threaded with a hint of reluctant understanding. "It's the hormones. You're exhausted and overwhelmed. That's all this is right now."
His large hand slipped under the hem of my sleep shirt and settled warmly on my bare belly skin to skin. He began rubbing slow soothing circles over the tight curve wide steady sweeps of his palm that somehow managed to feel both possessive and comforting at the same time. The leather cuff on his wrist brushed lightly against my skin with every rotation.
"You're safe," he said quietly his lips close to my hair. "Our son is safe. The doctor said it's manageable if we stay on top of it. But you have to stop fighting me and let me take care of you."
I kept crying anyway my shoulders shaking. "It feels like everything is my fault... the small measurements, the high glucose... I was just scared of you."
Matthew didn't pull his hand away. Instead, he continued the slow, rhythmic circles across my stomach his thumb occasionally tracing the underside of the swell where the baby was most active. The motion was hypnotic grounding even as his voice stayed firm and dominant.
"I know you're scared. And I know you're hormonal right now that's why I'm not pushing harder tonight. But you still need to understand something." His palm pressed a little more deliberately against my skin. "Running made this worse. Hiding made this worse. From now on, you eat when I tell you to eat. You rest when I tell you to rest. You take the vitamins and let me monitor your sugar levels. No arguments. That's how you fix it."
He kept rubbing those soothing circles warm and steady as my sobs gradually quieted into soft hiccuping breaths. Galileo shifted closer pressing his warm body against my front so I was sandwiched between the dog I trusted and the man I was still terrified of.
Matthew's breath brushed the back of my neck. "That's it... breathe for me. Let it out tonight, but tomorrow you start listening. You're going to be a good girl and take care of our boy the way you should have been all along."
His hand never stopped its slow possessive rubbing over my belly calming the storm inside me even while reminding me exactly who was in control now.
I lay there in the dark of the unfamiliar bedroom tears still leaking from my closed eyes the steady motion of his palm eventually lulling my exhausted body toward sleep.
My body felt heavy drained from the tears, the sedative, and the emotional overload. I kept my eyes closed breathing slow and shallow letting exhaustion start to win.
I was only half-aware when his voice dropped even lower turning into a hushed whisper right behind me, clearly meant not to wake me. He said close to my belly.
"Hey, little man..." Matthew murmured, so softly I almost thought I was dreaming it. His hand stilled for a moment then resumed the gentle circles this time lighter and more deliberate. "You doing okay in there? Your mama's been through a lot today, so you've gotta be strong for her, alright?"
I stayed perfectly still pretending to be fully asleep my heart aching at the unexpected tenderness in his tone.
"You've been growing without me for too long," he continued whispering his lips close to my bump. "That stops now. Daddy's here. I'm not letting anything happen to either of you. No more running. No more hiding. We're all together in our new house, and I'm going to keep you both safe."
His fingers traced a slow protective pattern over the curve of my stomach occasionally pausing when he felt a flutter or movement.
"I know things are a little rough right now... small measurements, high sugar. But we're fixing it. Mama's going to eat right, take her vitamins, and listen when I tell her what to do. You just keep growing strong. I already showed your grandparents your pictures they released this whole house to us because of you. This is your home now."
Matthew shifted slightly.
"You're going to be tough, just like your old man. But you'll be good to your mama too. She's scared right now... hormonal, emotional... but she loves you already. I can feel it. So you take it easy on her tonight, okay? Let her rest. Tomorrow we'll get a better look at you on the ultrasound."
He pressed a light kiss to the bump then returned to those slow soothing circles on my skin.
"I love you, son. Both of you. And I'm never letting you go again."
I lay there half-asleep tears silently slipping from the corners of my eyes again as I listened to the man who had hunted me down drugged me and taken me speak so softly and possessively to the baby growing inside me.
The new house was quiet around us. Galileo breathed steadily against my front. Matthew's hand continued its gentle dominant rhythm on my belly.
And I still didn't know what I was going to do.
The morning light filtered into the unfamiliar bedroom as a soft indirect warmth on my face Matthew must have left the curtains partially open. I woke slowly my body still heavy from the sedative's remnants and the emotional exhaustion of the night before. Galileo's warm weight pressed against my legs but the solid presence behind me was gone.
Instead, I smelled coffee decaf probably and something savory cooking downstairs.
Matthew's footsteps approached steady and purposeful. The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge of the bed his hand immediately finding my belly under the covers warm and possessive.
"Time to wake up, Annabelle. Doctor will be here in a couple of hours for the ultrasound. First, you're eating." His voice was calm and dominant leaving no space for negotiation. "Bathroom, then breakfast. I have your blood sugar kit ready too."
I didn't argue. The memory of his whispered words to our son last night still lingered softening something in me even as the reality of my captivity pressed in. He helped me up guiding me through the spacious en-suite bathroom with efficient care the faint scent of unscented soap. He stayed close while I washed my face and brushed my teeth then led me downstairs.
Breakfast was already plated at the kitchen island scrambled eggs with spinach, turkey bacon, a small portion of avocado, and a measured serving of oatmeal with berries.. Matthew guided the fork into my hand again but this time he sat beside me one arm draped along the back of my stool his fingers occasionally tracing my spine.
"Eat slowly," he instructed his voice low. "Small bites. Chew thoroughly. We're keeping your sugar stable." He tested my blood sugar first his touch clinical yet intimate. "Better than last night. Good girl."
I ate under his watchful silence the food tasting better than the ash from the night before but still sitting heavy with resentment and guilt. Every bite felt like submission. Galileo got his own bowl nearby content in the new space. Matthew ate too. Between bites he reminded me of the rules: "Vitamins after this. Then a short walk around the property with me and Galileo light exercise, doctor-approved. No arguments today."
I nodded swallowing the lump in my throat. The coral bracelet clinked softly against the edge of the table.
Dr.Owen arrived promptly his voice carrying the same professional calm as before. The living room had been set up with equipment a portable ultrasound machine on a wheeled cart, towels, and gel. Matthew helped me onto the wide couch arranging pillows behind my back and lifting my shirt himself to bare my rounded belly.
"Let's get a good look at him," the doctor said, warming the gel before applying it. The wand pressed firm and cool against my skin. Matthew stood right beside me one hand gripping my shoulder the other resting on my thigh anchoring me.
The room filled with the rapid whoosh-whoosh of the heartbeat. Strong, but fast. Dr. Owen moved the wand slowly clicking measurements murmuring notes.
"Heart rate is good... head and femur measurements consistent with about nineteen weeks. But the abdominal circumference is lagging a bit more than we'd like." He paused, adjusting the wand. "Amniotic fluid is on the lower side of normal. Borderline oligohydramnios. And there's a small placental lake here nothing critical yet, but it suggests the placenta isn't perfusing quite as efficiently as it should. This is the kind of thing we catch and monitor with consistent prenatal visits starting in the first trimester. Regular scans, Doppler checks, nutritional tracking."
My stomach clenched. I felt Matthew's fingers tighten on my shoulder.
"Meaning?" Matthew asked his voice edged with controlled tension.
"With better early care proper nutrition, blood sugar management from the start, and stress reduction we might have prevented or minimized this. The gestational diabetes risk was likely brewing, and the poor intake plus high stress from... her situation probably contributed. It's mild for now, but we'll need frequent monitoring. I'll prescribe closer surveillance twice-weekly non-stress tests starting soon more frequent ultrasounds, and strict adherence to the diet and sugar checks. Bed rest if things worsen."
Tears burned behind my useless eyes. A slight problem. One that might have been nothing if I'd just gone to appointments instead of hiding.
Matthew's hand slid from my shoulder to cover my belly possessive and heavy right next to where the wand pressed. "Fixable?"
"Manageable, yes," Dr. Owen said. "With compliance. No more skipping care. The baby is resilient, but he needs consistency now."
After the doctor left with promises to return tomorrow and instructions for a detailed care plan the house fell quiet again. Matthew didn't speak at first. He simply cleaned the gel from my skin with a warm cloth then pulled my shirt down. His movements were deliberate and controlled.
Then he turned me to face him fully his hands on my upper arms.
"You heard him." His voice was low dominant and laced with disappointment that cut deeper than anger. "Borderline low fluid. Placental issue. All things that regular care would have flagged early. Because you ran and hid my son from me, our boy is already fighting a little harder than he should be."
I cried quietly my shoulders shaking. "I was scared—"
"I know you were scared." He pulled me against his chest his arms wrapping around me with unyielding strength one hand splayed protectively over the swell. "But fear doesn't excuse recklessness with our child. That ends today. No more chances to make it worse."
He tilted my chin up his thumb brushing a tear away. "You're going to eat every meal I prepare. Test your sugar when I tell you. Rest when I say. Walk when I say. And you'll let me take care of both of you the way I should have been from the beginning." His tone softened just a fraction that terrifying mix of command and tenderness. "Our son is going to be fine. Because you're going to be a good girl and obey me now. Understood?"
I nodded against his chest exhausted and guilty and overwhelmed. "Yes."
"Good." He kissed the top of my head then guided me toward the kitchen again. "Lunch in thirty minutes. Protein and vegetables. Then you rest with your feet up while I review the doctor's notes."
The new house felt even more like a cage luxurious, isolated, and inescapable. Galileo nudged my leg as if sensing my turmoil. Our son fluttered weakly inside me a reminder of the stakes.
And I still didn't know what I was going to do.
I stayed on the couch where Matthew had placed me, heart still racing from the ultrasound findings low amniotic fluid, lagging measurements, the placental lake. All things that might have been caught sooner with real prenatal care.
I couldn't see Matthew but I didn't need to. The shift in the air was unmistakable. His movements were sharper more clipped as he put away the equipment and wiped down the gel from my skin. The tension rolled off him in waves I could feel the controlled exhale through his nose, the faint creak of leather from his cuff as his hands flexed, and the way his footsteps sounded heavier against the hardwood.
He was angry.
I swallowed hard one hand resting on my belly. "Matthew... are you angry with me?"
He stopped moving. The room went still.
"I think you are," I whispered my voice trembling. "I can feel it."
For a long moment he said nothing. Then his hands were on me strong and deliberate. He turned my body on the couch to face him fully one knee sinking into the cushion beside me so he could loom close. His fingers gripped my chin tilting my face up toward his even though I couldn't see him.
"Yes, Annabelle. I'm angry." His voice was low, dark, and tightly controlled!each word precise. "It is taking every ounce of restraint I have not to put you over my knee right now and spank the hell out of you for everything you've done."
I flinched, breath catching. His grip on my chin stayed firm but not painful his thumb pressing lightly against my jaw.
"You disappeared with my son inside you," he continued his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Four months of wondering if you were okay, if he was okay, while you hid in that shitty apartment using a fake name. You skipped prenatal care. You barely ate right. You stressed yourself sick. And now the doctor tells us the fluid is low and the placenta isn't perfusing like it should issues we could have monitored and managed from the beginning if you hadn't run."
His free hand moved down to cover my rounded belly warm and heavy with possession. "It's taking everything in me not to bare your ass and punish you until you're sobbing and promising to never pull something like this again. But I won't. Not while you're still recovering from yesterday. That doesn't mean you're forgiven, and it sure as hell doesn't mean there won't be consequences."
He leaned in closer my forehead nearly touching mine his breath warm against my lips. "You will feel this sweetheart. Every single day. You're going to eat when I tell you to eat. Rest when I say rest. Test your sugar. Take your vitamins. Obey me without argument. Because our son needs you healthy, and I need you safe. Is that clear?"
Tears slipped down my cheeks. I nodded slowly my throat tight. "Yes... it's clear."
Matthew exhaled the sound still edged with frustration. He wiped my tears with his thumb then pressed a firm kiss to my forehead tender and dominant all at once.
"Good girl. Now we're going to the kitchen. You're eating a proper lunch high protein, low glycemic, exactly what the doctor ordered. Then you're lying down with your feet up for a nap. And while you rest I want you thinking about how close you came to making things much worse for our boy... and how grateful you should be that I'm choosing patience today."
He helped me to my feet one arm wrapped securely around my waist guiding me through the unfamiliar house. His anger still hummed beneath the surface palpable in every controlled touch and measured word.
I had no choice but to follow.
Matthew guided me into the kitchen with a firm hand at the small of my back, his touch unyielding. The scent of grilled chicken and vegetables already filled the air he must have started lunch while the doctor was here in the oven. He settled me onto the tall stool at the island then tested my blood sugar again before plating my food.
I ate in tense silence for a few minutes but the anger and fear kept bubbling inside me. My fork scraped against the plate as I pushed a piece of chicken around. Under my breath barely audible I muttered. "You can't even spank a pregnant woman anyways..."
The words had barely left my lips when everything stopped.
Matthew went completely still. The only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator and Galileo's soft breathing nearby. Then I heard the slow deliberate scrape of his plate being pushed aside.
"Yes, I can spank a pregnant woman," he continued leaning in until his breath brushed my ear. "And I definitely will. I'm not going to risk harming our son, so you're going to get more stable first better blood sugar numbers, stronger measurements, more amniotic fluid. The doctor will clear it. But the second you're stable enough..."
His fingers flexed possessively against my neck.
"I promise you, Annabelle, you're going to get your reckoning. I'm going to put you over my knee pull those pants down and spank this ass until it's hot and sore and you're crying and apologizing for every single day you hid my son from me. You're going to learn exactly what happens when you run from me and put both of you at risk."
He pressed a firm kiss to my temple the gesture almost gentle despite the dark promise in his words.
"So keep mumbling little challenges under your breath if it makes you feel better. But know this: your punishment is coming. Whether it's in a week or a month, and you will feel the consequences of what you did. Now finish your lunch like a good girl. Every bite."
My cheeks burned with a mix of fear, shame, and unwanted heat. I picked up my fork again with trembling fingers and continued eating under his watchful silence the weight of his promise hanging heavy in the air between us.
The new house suddenly felt even smaller. Even more inescapable.
I sat there with my fork hovering over the plate cheeks still burning from his promise of a future spanking. The weight of his hand remained on the back of my neck heavy and controlling. My throat felt tight and the tears I'd been fighting finally spilled over again.
"Does it mean anything to you at all... that I was scared?" I asked my voice cracking. "That I overheard you talking about killing someone like it was nothing and I panicked? I was terrified, Matthew. I didn't know what else to do."
The silence that followed was thick. His fingers flexed against my neck then slowly slid down to rest on my shoulder. I could feel him studying me even if I couldn't see it the shift in his breathing or the way his body remained tense and close.
"It does mean something," he said finally. His voice was still low and dominant but some of the sharpest edge had softened. "I know you were scared. I know the phone call sounded cold. I'm not blind to that."
He turned my stool a little more and stepped between my knees one hand returning to cradle the side of my belly.
"But being scared doesn't excuse what you did. You didn't just run from me you hid my son. You cut me out completely. You spent four months pregnant, alone, skipping doctor visits, living on takeout and fear while our boy grew smaller and weaker than he should have. That's not just fear. That's distrust. That's denial. And that's reckless."
His thumb stroked slow circles over my belly possessive even now.
"I would have explained everything if you'd stayed and talked to me. I would have kept you safe.
Instead you made choices that put both of you in real danger. So yes, your fear matters... but it doesn't erase the consequences. It doesn't cancel the fact that I had to hunt you down, drug you, and bring you home because you wouldn't come willingly."
He leaned in pressing his forehead to mine again.
"Your fear matters enough that I'm being patient with you today. It matters enough that I'm not putting you over my knee right now pregnant or not. But it doesn't change what's coming once you're stable. And it doesn't change the rules. You're mine. He's mine. And from now on when you're scared you come to me. You don't run. You don't hide. You don't shut me out. Understood?"
I nodded shakily tears dripping onto my lap. "Yes..."
Matthew wiped my cheeks with his thumb then guided the fork back into my hand.
"Good. Now finish eating. I want that plate clear before I take you upstairs for your nap."
