Her Perfect Smile

I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing at 6:14 a.m.

Emma’s name filled the screen. I let it ring three times before I answered.

“Good morning,” she said, voice bright and smooth. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You did.”

“I wanted to check on you after last night. Casper told me the clinic flagged your hormone levels. Are you feeling all right?”

I sat up slowly. My body felt heavy and oversensitive, like every nerve had been turned up too high. “I’m fine.”

“Good. I’m sending breakfast over in twenty minutes. The nutritionist prepared a special menu for the next two weeks. Please eat everything. We can’t risk any deficiencies this early.”

“Emma.”

“Yes?”

“Stop pretending this is normal.”

There was a short silence. Then her voice softened into something almost sweet. “I’m only trying to take care of you, Lilith. You’re doing something incredibly generous for us. The least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable.”

I ended the call without answering.

Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang. A woman in a gray uniform handed me two large insulated bags and a sealed envelope with the Ashton family crest. Inside the envelope was a new schedule. Blood draws every other morning. Nurse visits at 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. Restricted movement after week six. A private driver available twenty four hours a day. At the bottom, written in Casper’s sharp handwriting, was one extra line.

Call me if she becomes a problem.

I stared at the words until the letters blurred.

The first injection of the day was scheduled for 7:30. I had just finished it when the doorbell rang again. This time it was Casper.

He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and looked like he had not slept. His eyes moved over my face, then down to the small fresh bandage on my stomach where the new shot had gone in.

“You did it yourself,” he said.

“The nurse is not due for another hour.”

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation and closed the door. The apartment suddenly felt too small.

“Show me.”

“Casper.”

“Show me the site. If you inject at the wrong angle the absorption changes.”

I pulled the edge of my shirt up just enough. His fingers brushed the skin beside the bandage, light and clinical, but the contact still sent a sensation through me. He examined the spot for longer than necessary before stepping back.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Next time wait for the nurse.”

“I can handle a needle.”

“I know you can. That is not the point.”

He walked into the kitchen and opened the bags Emma had sent. He unpacked containers of oatmeal, steamed vegetables, and a protein shake like he had every right to be there. Then he set a plate on the counter and looked at me.

“Sit. Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Your levels are already unstable. Skipping meals makes it worse. Sit down.”

I sat. He leaned against the opposite counter and watched me take the first few bites in silence. The quiet felt heavier than any argument.

“Emma called me at five this morning,” he said eventually. “She wanted to know why my car was outside your building all night.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That the clinic asked me to stay close in case your levels dropped. She accepted the explanation. For now.”

I put the spoon down. “She’s going to become a problem.”

“I know.” His voice was flat. “She already is.”

The doorbell rang again. This time it was the morning nurse, a calm woman in her forties who checked my blood pressure, temperature, and the injection site with efficient hands. She recorded everything on a tablet and smiled at both of us.

“Levels are still elevated but within the safe range. Continue the current protocol. Call the clinic if the nausea worsens.”

She left as quietly as she had arrived.

Casper waited until the door closed before speaking again. “I’m moving you.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“The guest wing of the penthouse. Starting tonight. The medical team will have faster access and the security is better.”

“That was not part of the original agreement.”

“It is now. Emma already approved the change.”

Of course she had. Keeping me under the same roof made it easier to watch every move I made.

“I don’t want to live in your house,” I said.

“It is not a request.” He picked up his phone and typed something quickly. “A driver will collect your things at four. Be ready.”

I stood up so fast the chair scraped the floor. “You do not get to rearrange my entire life because it is convenient for you.”

Casper’s eyes hardened. “You signed a contract that gives me the right to protect the pregnancy by any reasonable means. Living under the same roof as the medical team is reasonable. Pack a bag.”

We stared at each other across the kitchen. The air between us felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.

My phone buzzed on the counter. A message from Emma.

Emma: Casper just told me the good news. I’m so glad you’ll be staying with us. I already had the guest suite prepared. Welcome home, little sister.

I locked the screen and looked back at Casper. “She is enjoying this.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “She is.”

He walked to the door, then paused with his hand on the handle. “One more thing. The guest suite is on the opposite side of the penthouse from the master bedroom. There are two locked doors and a full security feed between us. I had the locks installed this morning.”

“Why are you telling me that?”

He turned his head just enough to meet my eyes. “Because I need you to know the doors are there. And because I already know they will not be enough.”

The door closed behind him.

I stood in the silent kitchen with the half eaten breakfast and the fresh bandage on my stomach and the terrifying understanding that the walls of my old life had just finished collapsing.

At exactly 4:00 p.m. a black car arrived. Two men in dark suits carried my bags down to the street while I locked the apartment for the last time. The drive to the Ashton penthouse took eighteen minutes. The private elevator opened directly into a wide foyer of glass and pale stone.

Emma was waiting.

She wore a soft white dress and an expression of perfect hospitality. “Lilith. You look pale. Come, I’ll show you your rooms.”

She led me down a long hallway to a corner suite with floor to ceiling windows and a view of the entire city. Everything was already arranged. Clothes hung in the closet. Toiletries lined the bathroom shelves. A small medical fridge hummed quietly in the corner.

“Make yourself at home,” Emma said. “Dinner is at seven. Casper will join us if his meeting ends on time.”

She left with a gentle smile that did not reach her eyes.

I sat on the edge of the large bed and tried to steady my breathing. The suite was beautiful. It was also a cage with better lighting.

At 6:47 my phone lit up with a message from Casper.

Casper: Do not come to dinner. I will bring food to your suite. Emma is in a mood and I do not want you in the middle of it tonight.

I typed back.

Lilith: What kind of mood?

His reply took less than ten seconds.

Casper: The dangerous kind. Stay in your rooms. Lock the door. And Lilith… whatever you hear later, do not open it for anyone but me.

I stared at the screen.

Somewhere deeper in the penthouse a door closed harder than necessary. Raised voices followed, too muffled to make out the words but sharp enough to carry through the walls.

I locked my door as instructed and sat on the bed with my arms wrapped around my knees, listening to the first real fight of the marriage I had helped create.

The voices rose once more.

Then everything went quiet.

My phone buzzed again.

Casper: She knows I stayed outside your building until sunrise. She knows about the soup. She knows I cannot stay away. And she just told me she will do whatever it takes to remind me who I married.

I read the message twice.

Before I could answer, another one arrived.

Casper: Do not open the door tonight. No matter what she says. No matter what you hear.