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His Arranged Protection
His Arranged Protection
Author: NABIIE

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Author: NABIIE
last update publish date: 2026-04-16 18:13:47

~~LENA~~

I knew something was wrong the moment I pushed the door open.

“Lena!”

My stepmother’s voice sliced through the silence from the kitchen.

I dropped my bag near the door and walked in slowly. The acrid smell of burnt stew hung thick in the air.

“I just got back,” I said carefully.

She turned to face me, arms folded tight across her chest like she had been waiting for this fight all day.

“And the chores I told you to finish this morning?”

I paused. I had woken up early, cleaned the living room, washed the dishes, and swept the floor before leaving. So what exactly was she talking about?

“I did them before I left.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“No. I’m just saying that I did them before I—”

Before I could finish, her hand shot out, slapping me across the cheek. The sting made my head spin.

She grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me toward the sink, slamming my face into the pile of wet dishes. Soapy water flooded my mouth and nose. 

I gasped and choked, lungs burning as I clawed desperately at the edge of the counter.

“Maybe this will teach you some sense!” she hissed.

She shoved harder. My nose slammed into the faucet,and a sharp pain exploded behind my eyes.

“You useless girl,” she snapped. “Living in this house and you can’t even do one simple thing right.”

When she finally released me, I stumbled back, water dripped from my hair.

“No wonder your real mother abandoned you,” she spat. “Even she couldn’t stand the sight of you.”

I froze. “Don’t call my mother—”

Her lips curled into a vicious smile. “What did you just say?”

“You don’t get to bring her into this.”

“Oh… you’ve grown some teeth.” She seized my arm, nails digging in like claws. “Basement. Now.”

“No—” Panic clawed up my throat. “No, no, no… please. I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean it. I’ll do whatever you want, just not the basement. Please.”

My voice cracked as I tried to pull away, but her grip only tightened.

“Too late for apologies,” she said coldly, dragging me toward the stairs.

“Ma’am, please—”

“What’s all this noise about?”

My father’s voice cut through the hallway.

She froze for a split second. Then, like someone flipping a switch, her grip loosened and her face transformed into wounded innocence. She stepped back and pressed a hand dramatically to her chest.

“I was only trying to correct her,” she said softly. “But she started shouting at me… calling me names.”

I stared at her, stunned. The same woman who had just shoved me now looked like the victim.

My father’s gaze snapped to me, dark with irritation. “Is that true?”

“No—” My voice shook. “She was dragging me to the basement. I didn’t even—”

“Enough.” His tone was sharp and final. The single word cut straight through me.

“You will not raise your voice in this house,” he said coldly. “Especially not to your mother.”

“She’s lying,” I whispered, desperation tightening my throat.

His jaw clenched. “Not another word, Lena. Now go upstairs.”

I stood frozen for a moment, fingers curling hard at my sides.

Arguing never helped.

It only made everything worse. Because deep down I knew the truth: Father had heard every word.

He had simply chosen not to care.

Slowly, I turned and walked toward the stairs, each step heavy on the wooden floor.

Behind me, my stepmother gave a soft, pitiful sniff, playing the victim perfectly.

She had won. Again.

Sleep refused to come that night. My cheek still burned where she had hit me, and every time I closed my eyes the scene replayed in vicious detail.

Thirst eventually dragged me out of bed hours later. The house lay silent, faint moonlight spilling through the hallway windows as I padded quietly toward the kitchen for a glass of water.

On my way back, hushed voices drifted from the living room.

“…we’ll all die if you don’t do this,” my stepmother whispered.

My feet rooted to the floor.

“Do you want us to die? I’m pregnant, for God’s sake. Think about the baby. All you have to do is give her to him.”

My chest squeezed tight. A long silence followed before my father spoke, his voice rough.

“He’s a killer. No matter what you say, I can’t sell my daughter to a mafia boss who murders people for fun.”

My stomach dropped.

Mafia?

“No, no, don’t call it that,” my stepmother said quickly. “You’re not selling her. You’re just… letting him have her for a little while.”

Her voice softened. “We’ll get her back once the debts are settled.”

I stood pressed against the wall, the weight of their words crushing my ribs.

“So what do you say?” she pressed. “Have you made your choice? Are you giving her to him?”

The silence stretched unbearably. My heart hammered so loudly I was terrified they would hear it.

Of course he won’t. He doesn’t hate me… right?

Say no. Please, Dad. Say no.

Finally, my father spoke, defeat heavy in every syllable. “Yes.”

The glass slipped from my numb fingers and shattered on the tile. Chairs scraped loudly in the dining room.

“Did you hear that?” my stepmother whispered.

The kitchen door swung open. My father stepped out first. His eyes dropped to the broken glass, then slowly rose to meet mine.

“You were listening?” he asked quietly.

“Dad…” My voice trembled. “You were really going to sell me?”

My stepmother sighed dramatically behind him. “Oh Lena, must you always be so dramatic?”

My father ran a hand over his face, exhausted. “It’s not like that, sweetheart.”

“You said yes.”

“Listen to me,” he said gently, stepping closer. “We had no choice. He’ll kill us—all of us—if we don’t pay. This is the only way to protect the family.”

My stepmother nodded, eyes solemn. “He won’t hurt you. It’s only temporary. We’ll bring you back once everything is settled.”

Temporary.

Like I was some object being loaned out. My nails dug hard into my palms.

“Please understand,” he continued. “This is the only way to protect this family.”

I looked between them—my father, the man who was supposed to protect me, and the woman standing beside him like a fragile saint.

Slowly, I nodded. “Okay then.”

Both of them froze.

“You understand?” my father asked.

“Yes.”

But inside my head, one thought screamed louder than everything else.

Run.

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Comments (3)
goodnovel comment avatar
HANNAH LOVE
l despise fathers that use their children as a means of escape
goodnovel comment avatar
rachline
I hope Lena doesn’t brush the maltreatment off and fight back.
goodnovel comment avatar
Jane Besh
I wouldn't sacrifice my life for a family that maltreats me either.
VIEW ALL COMMENTS

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