“There’s nothing wrong with breaking her legs to keep her. Or chaining her to the bed. She’s mine.” She was looking for freedom. He gave her obsession—wrapped in tenderness. Genesis Caldwell thought escaping her abusive home meant salvation—but her arranged marriage to billionaire Kieran Blackwood might be its own kind of prison. He’s possessive, controlling, dangerous. Yet in his own broken way… he’s gentle with her. To Kieran, Genesis isn’t just a wife. She’s everything. And he’ll protect what’s his. Even if it means destroying everything else.
View MoreGENESIS
“Wake up, you little freak.” That was my morning greeting before a bucket of freezing water drenched me, soaking my thin bedding and making me shiver uncontrollably. “What do you think you’re doing, sleeping this late? Do you think you’re royalty while we serve you?” Mark, my stepbrother, sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. Before I could fully wipe the water off my face, he kicked my bed, sending me tumbling to the floor with a painful thud. My jaw slammed against the wooden boards, sending a jolt of pain through my skull. But I knew better than to stay down. If I valued my life, I had to get up, quickly. Without a second thought, I pushed myself off the ground, ignoring the ache in my jaw as I stood upright. My shoulders instinctively hunched as I faced them, bracing myself for whatever came next. Mark was bad enough, but Jimmy, the older of my stepbrothers, was far worse. His cruelty wasn’t just physical, it was insidious, calculated. Jimmy stepped forward, and I stiffened, my stomach knotting with dread. He reached out, tucking a strand of my wet hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering far too long. My skin crawled at his touch, but I forced myself to stand still. Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I didn’t dare let them fall. “Mother wants to see you,” Jimmy said, his tone deceptively soft. He didn’t pull his hand away, his fingers brushing against my cheek in a way that made my heart race with panic. “And don’t keep her waiting,” he added, his voice dropping an octave, a warning I knew not to ignore. I flinched back, slipping out of his reach as quickly as I could. The tears escaped despite my efforts, but I wiped them away furiously before descending the stairs. Monica couldn’t see them, not her. When I entered the kitchen, I froze in the doorway. Monica, my stepmother, sat on a stool, a glass of something amber in her hand. Even from across the room, I could smell the alcohol. Her sharp eyes were fixed on a stack of papers in front of her, but the moment she noticed me, she sneered. “What are you standing there for like a useless statue? Get over here,” she snapped. Startled, I nodded and stepped forward, keeping my eyes on the ground. “Pathetic,” she muttered as her gaze swept over me. “You look like something the cat dragged in. Your father must’ve been blind to leave someone like you in my care.” My head snapped up at her words. My father hadn’t left me with her because he didn’t want me. He was taken away from me. But Monica wasn’t finished. She rose from her stool, circling me like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re nothing but a burden. A filthy, good-for-nothing little freak. If I had my way, you’d be out on the streets where you belong.” Her words cut deep, but I bit my lip and stayed silent. Any response would only make things worse. Not that I could even speak. “You’ll scrub this kitchen from top to bottom,” she ordered, shoving me toward the sink. “And when you’re done, you’ll serve dinner tonight. Try not to embarrass me, though I doubt you’re capable of anything else.” Her hand shot out suddenly, pushing me hard enough that I stumbled into the counter. The pain in my ribs flared, but I caught myself before I fell. Monica’s cruel laughter rang in my ears as she returned to her papers. “Get to work. You’re lucky to even be under this roof.” I turned away, gripping the edge of the counter tightly as the tears threatened to fall again. But I wouldn't cry, not where she could see them. Not where any of them could see them. It will be over soon. Just a year, I just need to get it and I'll leave. **** I found myself in my room at the end of a long day, every inch of my body aching as if I had been repeatedly slammed against a wall. The pain was relentless, and I had no medicine to ease it. Asking Monica for help would only lead to her typical response. “I provide you with food, clothes, and a roof over your head, yet it’s still not enough for you. You want money for your filthy ailments? Just stay away so you don’t pass anything on to me,” she would say without fail, making it clear that there was no point in asking. Yet, amidst the discomfort, I felt a small sense of relief, I had managed to eat. Dinner was a bit different today. The usual shouting echoed around the house, but I was allowed to eat in my room instead of the dining area. Honestly, I doubted I could have kept any food down if I had to sit with them. Once my meal settled, I pulled out a book I had borrowed from the library without my stepmother’s consent and began to read silently. Some of the larger words tripped me up, but I was determined to make sense of it. As I immersed myself in the pages, I didn’t notice when he entered my room. I was so focused on reading that I didn’t feel the shift in the atmosphere until I sensed his presence. I looked up to see Jimmy leaning against the door, a smirk playing on his lips, his gaze filled with a familiar hunger. In a panic, I tossed the book aside and shook my head as he approached. Just then, the doorbell rang, but it didn’t deter him. I stood up and tried to signal that I needed to answer the door. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his hand snaking around my waist. Tears I had been holding back spilled down my cheeks as he pushed me onto the bed. I attempted to escape, but he yanked me back by my hair, and I felt some strands tear away from the force. He chuckled as he ripped the delicate fabric from my shirt, revealing my breast to him. “Looks like someone’s in a Feisty mood today,” he remarked, his hand starting to glide toward my core. But just as things were about to escalate, a furious shout echoed from downstairs. “GENESIS,” Monica yelled suddenly, her voice filled with rage, causing Jimmy to leap off me as if I were on fire. My body trembled, not just from what almost transpired, but from the anticipation of what awaited me downstairs.Genesis’s heart pounded so hard she could barely breathe. The echo of the stretcher wheels faded down the hall until there was nothing left, just the sterile hum of the hospital lights and the sound of her own racing pulse.Her back hit the cold wall, and she slid down slowly, her hands trembling. Her breaths came out uneven, fast, too fast. She pressed a palm against her chest, trying to calm the panic clawing its way up her throat.“Lily?” Daisy’s small, frightened voice broke the silence. She ran to Genesis, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong? You look really pale!”Genesis shook her head weakly, trying to force a smile that never came. “I’m fine,” she whispered, but her voice cracked halfway.“No, you’re not!” Daisy said, gripping her arms tightly. “You’re breathing funny, Lily, what’s happening?”Before Genesis could answer, Knight moved quickly toward her. He crouched in front of her, his eyes searching hers, worry etched deep into his face. “Princess, hey, baby,look at me.” He cupped
Amelia lounged on the chaise, the sun warming her skin. She lowered her sunglasses, adjusted her position lazily, and rubbed a hand over her round, pregnant belly.“This is the life,” she murmured with a satisfied sigh. One minute passed. Then five. Just as she began to drift toward sleep, the sunlight vanished from her skin.Her brows furrowed. “What the hell?” she muttered, opening her eyes—only to see Genesis standing in front of her, blocking the sun, with Daisy beside her, hands planted firmly on her hips.Amelia groaned. “What do you want, weirdo?”Daisy gasped, scandalized. “Lily’s not a weirdo—you are!”Amelia turned her head slowly toward her. “Shut it, brat. Someone needs to teach you some manners. You don’t—”Genesis cut her off, her voice cool but sharp. “You’re the one who lacks manners here.”“Excuse me?” Amelia scoffed.“You heard me,” Genesis said, standing tall. “It’s one thing for you to sneak into my kitchen and eat half the food I make for my men—I let that slide b
Genesis stood on her tiptoes as Knight bent down, their foreheads meeting while she closed her eyes, her hand encircling his head."I'm not suggesting you should part ways with Knight, never! He is a part of you, and we need him. However, your father requires Kieran, and I believe you should express your thoughts to him," she whispered, prompting him to take a deep breath and nod in agreement.A smile spread across Genesis's face, warmth flooding her chest. She then lifted her head and gently began to push him back. Knight frowned but allowed it, stopping when they were a few feet from the window.“Go down," she murmured softly, and he gazed at her for a few moments before slowly sinking to his knees in front of her. His hands wrapped around her waist, pressing against her stomach before moving toward her bare, wet pussy.She trembled but shook her head. "No," she gasped, pushing on his shoulders until he lay back on the floor, and she looked down at him."I want to take charge now,"
“Ahhh—uhhh,” Genesis’s moans filled the air, her hand pressed against the glass window before sliding up to clutch Knight’s shoulders, trying to steady herself with each deep thrust. Her mouth fell open in a gasped cry.“Ahh—yes, yes,” she breathed out, her nails digging into his shoulders. Knight stared at her, his blue eyes dark under the dim light of the office, tears still gliding down his face. Her words from earlier echoed in his head.THWACK.THWOP.The rapid, wet sounds of his hips meeting hers filled the quiet, empty room.“I’m so sorry,” he murmured against her neck, his thrusts not slowing. Genesis looked down at him, her grip on his body tightening.“Faster—p-please, faster,” she whimpered.He pulled away, sliding out of her with a wet pop. Her slickness dripped down and hit the tiled floor. She groaned at the sudden emptiness, but before she could speak, he turned her around and guided her to face the window.“Hands there,” he said softly.She obeyed, palms pressed to the
Marcus froze. Lionel’s mouth fell open. Neither of them moved as Genesis lifted the bat again, her eyes wild and glistening with tears.“Ma’am, please…” Marcus started, but his voice caught when she slammed the bat against the door again.CRASH.Another swing. Another explosion of glass.“You said I should knock, right?” she shouted, voice cracking, each word sharp as a blade.CRASH. “Is this loud enough, Knight?”CRASH. “Can you hear me now?”Shards flew in every direction, raining down like diamonds in the fluorescent light. Lionel tried to step forward, but Knight lifted a hand slightly, just once and Lionel froze, watching in disbelief.Genesis was crying heavily now, angry, broken sobs that tore through the silence.“I carried fish, Kieran!” she screamed, her voice trembling. “Do you know what that smells like? I carried bags until my hands bled, just to buy that!” She pointed at the lunch box on the floor. “Thirty-five dollars! I just wanted to do something, just one thing that
Genesis slowly pushed herself up from the table he had pressed her against. Her brow furrowed, a faint frown settling over her delicate features as she turned to face him. He had already moved to the floor-to-ceiling glass window, staring down at the glowing city of New York.His words spun around her head like a curse she couldn’t shake. She should knock before stepping into his office.A small, broken chuckle slipped past her lips, but he didn’t turn to her. He just stood there—silent, cold, the glow of the city reflecting off his sharp frame—smoking, knowing exactly what that smell did to her.Tears stung the back of her eyes. “Knock before stepping into your office,” she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling.Her gaze drifted to the lunch box sitting on the table. She had bought it with the little money she’d earned—not his, not her father’s, but hers. It had taken her days to gather enough.She owned her father’s company now, technically, but Monica had drained it dry.
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