The Zillionaire's Obsession

"You call that waking up, Aria? Pathetic."

The words hit her before her father even stepped fully into the room. Aria froze, clutching the thin blanket around her shoulders as her stomach twisted with the familiar dread. Gregory Morgan's voice was sharp, dripping with venom, each syllable meant to crush her.

"I-I'm awake, Father," she whispered, the words catching in her throat. The heat of his brewing storm prickled at her skin, and her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

"Awake?" He scoffed, shaking his head with disgust. "You're a disgrace, that's what you are. Twenty-three years old, and you can't even manage to get out of bed without making me yell at you. Do you think anyone would ever want you? Look at yourself! Your face, your body, all wasted potential! Men might drool over your curves and your eyes, but what good is it? Nothing! Absolutely nothing without me!"

Aria's throat tightened, but she forced herself to meet his gaze briefly. Long brown hair fell in soft waves across her shoulders, framing her large, expressive brown eyes. She hated that he could see her beauty as a weapon he could mock rather than something that made her unique.

"I have work today," she murmured.

"Work?" He laughed, a cruel, hollow sound that echoed off the cracked walls. "Work? You mean slaving at that café for peanuts while I take everything you earn? You're lucky I even let you breathe the same air as me. Every penny you make is mine. You think that uniform you wear, serving fools who barely notice you, makes you worth anything? It doesn't! You're my failure, Aria. My burden, you a disappointment."

Her hands clenched into fists beneath the blanket. She had expected this, lived for it, and endured it every week without fail. Still, the sting of his words never dulled. Her dreams of studying medicine online and her hope that she could rise above this pit of misery felt fragile against his relentless attacks.

Greg stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, a looming shadow in the tiny room. "And don't think I don't see that look in your eyes, that pathetic little spark of defiance. You think you're going to escape me? You think you can hide your money, your thoughts, and your life from me? You'll see, girl you'll never escape. And don't make me take the belt again. Do you want that, huh?"

Aria flinched but held her ground, at least enough for him to see she wasn't breaking entirely. "I only want to finish my classes, Father," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Ha!" He barked, slapping the dresser hard enough that the mirror rattled.

"Classes? Your dreams are as worthless as you are! What makes you think sitting in front of a screen makes you someone? You're nothing but a waste of space, a pretty doll to bring men into cafés and restaurants while you get nothing in return. You're beautiful, yes, but so what? It doesn't earn respect. It doesn't earn freedom. It earns me money, your money. And don't forget whose house this is."

Aria's hands shook as she reached under her mattress, pulling out the small purse where she kept her earnings from the café and Maggie's restaurant. Every bill in that purse was a hard-fought victory, a tiny step toward freedom, and she hated that it would all be snatched away in seconds.

Greg grabbed it from her hands, flipping through the bills with disdain.

"Is this all? You disappoint me yet again, Aria. Pathetic. I should teach you a lesson for thinking you can keep anything for yourself. Stand still!"

Before she could respond, his hand struck her cheek. The sharp sting radiated across her face, but Aria did not cry out. She had learned long ago that screaming only earned more wrath. Instead, she swallowed the pain, forcing herself to breathe evenly. Her brown eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, reflected not submission but defiance a promise to herself that one day, she would leave this place and no one would ever control her again.

"You're worthless," Greg spat, pacing in front of her. "All that charm, all that beauty, and for what? You'll never be anything without me, Aria. Nothing!"

Her hands, curled in fists at her sides, trembled. Yet in the trembling was a spark, the tiniest ember of hope. She clung to it fiercely. She could not let him extinguish it. Her online classes, her part-time jobs, and the secret dreams she nurtured quietly at night all of it mattered. They were her lifeline, her proof that she could be more than this.

"Father, I'll be more than you think," she whispered, her voice shaking but firm.

"I will leave this place, and no one will ever control me again."

Greg laughed, a sound void of warmth. "Leave? You? Don't make me laugh! You'll be nothing wherever you go. You belong to me until I say otherwise. Now get dressed, don't make me repeat myself, or you'll regret it."

Aria obeyed, quietly pulling on her uniform for the café. She brushed her long hair into a braid, tucking it behind her ears, trying to make herself small, invisible. But the fear still clawed at her chest, coiling tight around her heart. Every movement was a risk; every word measured.

Greg's eyes followed her, sharp and predatory. "Move faster, girl. The world isn't going to wait for your pathetic little steps. Hurry, or I will."

Aria moved toward the door, clutching her bag. Her body ached from the previous night's work, and the mark on her cheek throbbed painfully, but she straightened her back and held her head high. She would survive this. She had to. Every step toward the café, every breath, every ounce of resilience was a small rebellion, a quiet defiance against the life her father had tried to cage her in.

Outside, the morning air was cold and sharp.

The first rays of sunlight glimmered on the city streets, promising nothing, yet whispering faintly of hope. Aria inhaled deeply, savoring the bite of cold, the freedom of open air. She allowed herself a fleeting thought of the life she wanted, of a world beyond her father's tyranny, beyond Monica Kane's café abuse, beyond every injustice that had plagued her.

The café loomed ahead, a small, bustling place, part of Monica's family empire. Monica, sharp-tongued and merciless, would greet her with scorn, belittle her for being late, and take what little tips she earned. Yet even that world was a step outside the nightmare at home. A place where her beauty, her charm, and her talent could at least earn a fraction of respect or at least survival.

Aria took another deep breath, squaring her shoulders. Each step forward was a promise, a defiance, a silent vow that one day, she would break free. And maybe, just maybe, her life was about to change in ways she couldn't yet imagine.