Emotional Hostage Novels & Stories

Over the weekend, I went with my best friend to one of the premium auto shops owned by my company to get her car serviced. Just as we were about to leave, someone stopped me and ordered me to wipe down her car. I explained that I didn't work there, but she got angry anyway. She flipped a 10-cent coin at my face. "Consider it an honor that I'm letting you wash my car. A broke girl like you has probably never even seen a luxury car in her life! I'm trying to broaden your horizons, and you're not even grateful?" I shot back, "You're right. I've never met a car owner who can only spare 10 cents. Consider my horizons broadened." She exploded on the spot. "Do you even know who I am? The chairman of the Penzo Group is my mother-in-law! Scared now?" I paused for a beat, then calmly called Leo Penzo. "I hear your mother went behind my back and found you a new wife?"

The fertility clinic called to inform me that my embryos were ready for transfer. I touched my abdomen, still numb from the anesthesia of that morning's egg retrieval. Even with cutting-edge medical technology, embryos couldn't be prepared this quickly. Before I could call back to clarify, my husband stopped me. "Mom's been pressing us hard. I pulled some strings to fast-track the process so you can get pregnant sooner. Imagine twins! My buddies will be green with envy." Silent, I drove straight to the clinic and dialed 911 on the way. "Hello? I'm reporting a fertility clinic involved in illegal surrogacy."

It was the day of my return. The city was talking about the birthday party my husband was throwing for me. He was a lawyer. But the night before the big day, a message popped up on my husband's cell phone. 'It's been five years. I've been waiting for far too long.' My husband pushed me away, though his face was smeared with guilt. "I'm sorry, honey. The GM wants me on a last-minute work trip. I can't make it in time for your birthday." He left without even missing a beat. I opened up the GPS app and watched the red dot move away. That was him. I got an Uber and tailed him right away. His GM was me. I just got the job, and I approved his leave for my birthday. And then he told me, in my face, that I assigned him on a last-minute work trip when I did no such thing. It was midnight. And I was going to find out who this man was meeting at this witching hour.

My boss, Kyle Brown, had just processed payroll when Sam Jefferson, the trainee I had been mentoring, tossed me his phone. He said, "Can you hold this for me while I use the bathroom?" I took it without thinking, then froze when I saw the screen. That was because a notification had just popped up: [This month's salary has been deposited. Total: $4,692.00.] I had been with this company for eight years, and I only made one thousand dollars a month. When I was hired, Kyle had told me that we were a startup. As long as I worked hard, I would make big money eventually. But over the years, Kyle had traded in one Mercedes after another while my salary kept shrinking. At present, my savings were less than four thousand dollars. I was close to not being able to afford the medical bills for my younger sister, Eva Rivers, who was very sick and bedridden. Meanwhile, the trainee I was mentoring made close to four thousand seven hundred dollars a month. I stayed quiet for a moment, then turned and asked the employee beside me how much he made. He stammered for a long time and would not answer. I understood it then. I picked up my phone and opened the recruitment message a competitor had sent me a few days earlier.

My dad worked as a dishwasher in a restaurant, earning a measly $400 a month. My mom had bad legs, so she could only scrape by collecting trash. When my academically-gifted younger brother was in middle school, they pulled him out of school and made him work to earn extra money so that they could afford to send me to the best school in the state. I didn't let them down and aced my high school, becoming the top student in my state. The day I got my SAT scores was also my birthday. Dad, all hunched over, came to my school with a pink cake, followed by Mom in her tattered clothes and my brother with his face covered in grime. But instead of being grateful, I grabbed a sharp compass and threw it at Dad, drawing blood. "You think you can buy me off with a cake? Get lost! Don't let me see you again!" The principal stared in disbelief. "Yvonne, what are you doing? If it weren't for your family working hard to support you, you wouldn't be this successful!" I held my head high, unperturbed. "So what if I'm the top student in the state? It's no big deal! If they really loved me, they would give me a million dollars so I could live a life of luxury!" Dad's tears hit the ground as he called me an ungrateful brat. Mom wanted to slap me but was held back. Meanwhile, I silently opened the cake box and cut the cake. The next second, everyone was shocked.

My mother threatens to jump off a building in front of me three times. The first time is when I fill out my college application. She stands on the rooftop and forces me to choose a local college. I give in, and with a 1550 SAT score, I end up attending a second-tier local college. The second time is after I graduate and go to Brayton for work. She stands on top of my company building and forces me to quit. I return to my hometown and take a gas station job she finds for me, earning 7.50 dollars per hour. The third time, she stands on a rooftop again and forces me to marry a man I have only met once but whom she is very satisfied with. I obey and marry him, only to suffer domestic violence and miscarry. In the end, I can no longer take it and jump off a building myself. When I open my eyes again, my mother is gritting her teeth as she climbs onto the rooftop. "If you dare apply to a Privy League college out of town, I will jump from here!" I give her one glance before turning around and walking away. "Go ahead. Don't waste my time."

We agreed we were going to spend Christmas together as a family of three. I briefly stepped out to grab my daughter’s Christmas gift, but quickly realized that I had forgotten my keys. However, when I came back, I was locked outside the villa. I rang the doorbell countless times, but no one came to let me in. Through the glass window, I saw my daughter happily smiling in the arms of my wife’s childhood friend who had returned from overseas. “Uncle Jones, you smell so nice. Not like my dad. He’s always sweaty and smells so gross. I don’t even want to spend Christmas with him!” My wife, Lily Quinn, looked at them indulgently and agreed. “Your dad hasn’t seen much of the world. He really doesn’t know how to celebrate holidays properly.” I froze in place as my fingers turned cold. Yara turned and saw me outside the window. Her face was filled with disgust. “What are you staring at? Why are you standing outside like some monster? You almost scared me to death! You’re not like Uncle Jones at all. He’s so elegant and well-mannered!” However, ten years ago, I was a top sales director at a well-known multinational company. Back then, I had the chance to be transferred to New York. Yet Lily unexpectedly got pregnant and suffered severe reactions. She was at constant risk of miscarriage. I voluntarily gave up that opportunity to take care of her and our daughter. Now, that sacrifice had somehow become undeniable proof of my uselessness. I took a deep breath and threw the Christmas gift I had bought for my daughter into the trash. Then I messaged someone saved in my contacts as “Apprentice”: [Is that overseas position you mentioned a few days ago still available?] The reply came almost instantly: [Of course! Mr. Lane, as long as you’re willing to come back, you’ll always have a place waiting for you!]

When Mom and Dad went broke—$30K in debt—they let collectors sell me to Nyamara, a lawless border strip full of trafficking, forced labor, and private prisons. I slept in flooded cells. Ate rotten food. Tried to run. They smashed both my legs with iron rods. I dragged myself home—and walked in on them planning Nina's sweet eighteen. Dad flicked his hand and dropped $3 million on a top-tier jewelry set for her. Mom smiled, then mentioned me. "I heard Talia cries every day, begging to come home. When do we tell her the truth and bring her back?" Dad shook his head, smug. "What's the rush? This is her gift. Let her tough it out one more month. Otherwise, how's she supposed to inherit our billions?" I tightened my grip on the medical report—severe infection in both legs. Mom. Dad. I don't even have a month left.

I, Lilian Newton, am the top luxury goods repair specialist. 90 percent of the store's revenue comes from me. Three years on the job, I turn a little shop that nearly goes bankrupt into a nationwide chain. Just because I am two minutes late to work, the new manager locks the front door and plans to take the staff on a trip. I ask her why I was not informed. She scoffs and says, "The capable should do more work. We are going on a trip. You stay behind to work overtime. If you can't handle it, then get lost!" I laugh in exasperation and call my husband right away. "I hear you're planning to fire me. Is that it?"

Five years ago, my girlfriend, Stacie Garcia, got crippled in an attempt to save me. Out of guilt, I stayed by her side and took on all the hardest grunt work so that I could use all of the money I've earned on her. But when I'm in the middle of cleaning a Porsche's dealership, I witness Stacie flirting with another young man there. To my shock, she's even standing without any problems. Stacie tells the man in a generous manner, "Which car do you have your eye on? I'll buy you any car no matter how expensive it is as long as you like it!"