The Billionaire’s Ex-Convict Nanny

Chapter 1

Adrian’s POV

“Wake up! Wake up! Last meal of the day, Martinez, unless you want to stay here forever,” the officer said, his tone flat and mocking…

“Thank you.” I said with the pains in my dry throat

He shoved the tray in front of me, his eyes not meeting mine, “Eat up, Martinez,” he said with a cold voice.

There's absolutely no difference between his dry cold voice and the dusty walls of the prison that surrounds me. Then he stormed out of the cell as usual. Never expecting a warm treatment from the officer… I'm used to the coldness from them.

The smell of disinfectant filled the air and the main door slammed shut again, leaving me alone again.

I looked at the plate of food on the floor…A lump of hard bread and watery soup. Tasteless and cold. This was the food I had eaten since the first day I stepped foot into this prison. My stomach twisted, but not from hunger but from the emptiness that I had learned to live with.

Then, I forced myself to eat , as I tore the bread with shaking hands. The bread was so hard it hurt to swallow. It tasted dry and lifeless, like giving up.

Ten months of staying here for a crime I didn't commit. I lost my freedom and a little while to lose my sanity.

The walls around me were cracked and wet from the morning's rain. They smelled like rush just like every forgotten thing left in this prison to rot. I pressed my back on the cold concrete and exhaled watching the mist of my breath fade away.

No bed. Just a slab of rusted iron frame that was as rough as stone. With the bed sheet that was too thin to cover me from cold nights. Each time I lay on it, the metal pressed into my back, leaving angry red marks on my back.

Being here has taught me one thing, you don’t need a real prison to feel broken — losing trust in others is enough to make you feel trapped and alone.

***

Maybe I should start from the beginning before the prison walls, the officer, the cold meals and the sleepless nights.

My name is Adrian Martinez… twenty-three, and I would be honest my life has been nothing but a life filled with a lot of uncalmed storms.

I lost my parents at the age of 10. I was just a child; I was too young, I didn't understand what death was, what I knew was that they were not coming back. Then life became unfair.

My aunt—my mother's sister— took me in after my parents' death. She was supposed to take care of me, supposed to be my last surviving family but she treated me like an outcast in her home. I didn’t attend the best school just like her children did, she barely gave me food to eat, I scrub the floor and wash into late hours. Even when I was shivering in sickness I still did my house chorus without any help from her children.

When I was old enough to escape her bad treatment towards me. I ran into the street with nothing. No money. No family.

Just determination to succeed.

Then I took a job at the bar, dancing to catch men's attention for tips. When this wasn't enough for survival. I started stripping in a club for a bar to entice customers and to survive…just to feed myself and to save up enough for my university fees and then my rent.

This was not the life I dreamt to have but I continue knowing this would change one day.

Then came Martins.

***

He appeared to me like a saviour. He really helped me out when I thought I'd died. As I was walking down the street after work. Thugs came after me, cornered me in an alley.Their laughter was cruel and I perceived alcohol and smokes on their breathe when they gathered me.They wanted to take advantage of me and to take my innocence, which I wasn't ready to give out, but out of nowhere, when I thought all hope was lost, Martin appeared. night when thugs

He fought against them and sustained some wounds, but he succeeded in driving them away…He held my trembling body tight and assured me that I was safe… For the first time, I felt valued.

He became my everything.

When he asked me out, our love story began.

We started dating. Our love grew rapidly, and I became his girlfriend…he was the only reason why I kept breathing. He made love promises to me that he would take care of me and shield me. He said he loved me.

Not long after, he moved in with me, that felt like a new beginning of our love. He didn’t have any work because he claimed that he lost his job. I could handle things until he found something to do. With the little money I made, I paid our bills, made sure he was comfortable and even paid his debt when those he was owing came for him. I didn’t complain.

We did everything together as a couple, and in my heart, he was my husband and father of my unborn children.

After three years, we continued our lifestyle living as couples, the weight of responsibilities on me. Telling myself we were building something together. Ignoring the way he reacts whenever he gets angry. Ignored the way he snapped at me in every little thing I did, instead of correcting my mistakes he would shout at me. Because I loved him, I keep making excuses that everybody gets angry. But then his anger got cold.

Two weeks before my birthday, his behavior became so weird and strange; he got angry at every little thing I did and nagged me frequently… His eyes grew darker anytime he saw me, and he started distancing himself from me and coming home late. When I asked him what was wrong, he said he was fine, gave me a fake smile and kisses that didn’t feel like love anymore.

Still I had hoped he was going to change.

On the day of my 22nd birthday, he surprised me with a bunch of rose flowers, and told me to dress up so that he would take me out. He said he wants to celebrate it in a restaurant and in a special way and he would take care of the bills. This was his first time trying to do something special for me so I hopped on the idea believing he had started caring. He had changed.

When we got to the location, I noticed it wasn’t a dinner restaurant he took me to but a bar. It was crowded with loud music heard everywhere.

I felt disturbed but didn’t want to complain on our first outing. He said it was part of the plan so I followed him not showing how disappointed I was.

He ordered drinks for our table as we watched people dancing. After the third drink, the whole room began to tilt around and my body got heavy and my eyes dizzy… Martin wrapped his hands around me

“Let’s go upstairs,” he said, “Another surprise awaits there.”

My pulse quickened, “ Martin, I… I… thought this was just dinner.”

He didn’t answer, he guided me through the dark hallway.

“Why are we here?” I mumbled again, my voice weak. “Please stop, I'm not yet ready for this.”

His expression changed as he carried me to the bed. He went back to lock the door.

My heart skipped

When he came back he climbed on top of my body. I tried to reject him.

“Adrian, Please don't start,” he said, “I've waited for three years and the only thing we did was kissing.”

“No, stop…” my voice was weak, “not yet…”

“Let's have fun together as couples for the first time.” He said tracing kisses on my neck, but I pushed him back.

I struggled with him for a while… He slapped my face, but I felt so powerless and knew that he wouldn't listen to me, so I let him have his way… Tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Fine… I’ll do it. But promise me we’ll get married, like you said.”

Instantly, he gave out a cold smile, “Of course. We’ll get married. Forever, Adrian. You’re mine.”

My sight became dull, and slowly, my body got weak, and I couldn't fight or talk anymore…

The only thing I noticed was a strong hand trailing all over my body that had a strange fragrance, his strong body on mine, then his lips on my body, traced to my breast, his hands roaming me, then my tears rolling down to my ear sides, and the sound of my own broken moans.

***

I woke up, still in that room as the sunlight filled the room through the thin curtains.

The bed was empty. My clothes were on the floor. I called his name once… twice… he didn't answer.

He might have gone out to get breakfast for us, I told myself everything was fine.

My head aches. I was having a hang over and I could barely stand. I felt body pains from the sex last night.

Then the knock came. It was thunderous.

Police! Open up!

I quickly put on my clothes and before I could get to the door , it burst open and Two officers stormed in holding a gun.

“Hands on your head! You are under arrest for possession and distribution of illegal drugs.”

“What?” I asked, “There must be a mistake somewhere…”

They didn't let me finish my words, they handcuffed my hands.

“Please…there ìs a mistake somewhere...! I don’t even know…”

“Tell it to the court,” the officer said flatly.

My wrists burned from the tight cuff.

As they dragged me out of the room as we went downstairs. Hotel guests stopped to stare at me. People's judgmental eyes were on me. I kept asking for Martins. I screamed his name. No answer.

****

And then days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, but day after day I still hold that courage that he will come back. No one came. No lawyer. No visitors.

The judge read the sentence like reading a grocery list. Four years in prison. The evidence—the drugs “found” in my bag—was enough to condemn me.

The walls of the prison became my reality. Fellow prisoners added to making my life a living hell. That was how I ended up here eating some bread and cold soup. I thought about Martin constantly. Hoping he would come and save me but after a few months, the hope started fading away.

Then one morning, I started feeling nauseous. I had lots of morning sickness, I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep too and then I was taken to the doctor, who conducted a test on me.

“Congratulations…You’re pregnant,” he said gently.

The words hit me like lightning…

Pregnant?

With this I became hopeful. I rubbed my hands on my tummy. Martin's child is growing in me.

“If Martin knows… if he knows I’m carrying his child, he won’t abandon me. I know he can't.... No man who abandons his blood. He'll come back to me when he hears I'm preganant.Maybe love would fix it all.”

But I have one question running through my mind, why haven't Martin visited or asked about me?

I couldn’t tell….but I just smiled through the tears in my eyes, whispering to the child I couldn't feel yet, “He’ll come back…he promised to marry me, and you won't be a bastard… We will survive this, I promise.