Bound By Desires

"I'm sorry, Miss Annabella... I really am. But there's nothing I can do. It's not in my hands anymore," the doctor said gently, his voice laced with pity. His eyes met hers for a fleeting second-filled with empathy but void of solutions.

"Doctor, please-" she choked out through trembling lips.

But he was already turning away, two nurses trailing behind him down the corridor, their white shoes tapping softly on the cold hospital floor.

Annabella stood frozen, the weight of helplessness settling on her like a suffocating blanket. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as she fought back another wave of tears. Five million dollars. That was the cost of her mother's survival. A number so large, it may as well have been a death sentence.

She had lost her job just last night-for standing up to a man who had groped her at work. She didn't regret shouting at him, even if it cost her everything. But now, it felt like the universe was laughing at her courage.

She turned slowly and walked toward her mother's ward, her steps heavy with sorrow. As she reached the doorway, she paused. She couldn't go in. Not yet.

Her mother lay unconscious in the hospital bed, pale and frail, the soft beeping of the machines the only sign that life still lingered within her. Annabella stared from the threshold, her heart clenching painfully.

She didn't want to break-not in front of her.

"I need to stay strong," she whispered to herself. "For her."

'You'll be fine, momma,' she said inwardly, clinging to a hope that was slowly slipping through her fingers. Momma-she had called her that since she could speak. That word was comfort, love, safety... everything.

But now... now she feared it would become just a memory.

She exited the ward quietly, her heart in shambles. As she rounded the corner, still lost in thought, she bumped into someone-hard.

"Oof-!" The man stumbled slightly, his package dropping from his hands.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled, quickly bending to retrieve the parcel. Their eyes met for a moment-his eyes dark and intense, hers wet and hollow.

"Thank you," he said softly, watching her walk away.

He stood there for a moment, staring after her. Something about the sadness in her eyes struck him. The way she held her pain so tightly inside. He felt... curious. And oddly concerned. But Annabella didn't notice. Her mind was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts of money, her mother, and the fear of losing the only person she had left.

Soon, she found herself standing in front of a familiar apartment door. She took a deep breath, then knocked. This was her last hope-Sandra.

The door swung open a moment later, and Sandra's sharp eyes scanned her from head to toe.

"Hey, girl," Sandra said, stepping aside. "What's wrong?"

Annabella stepped in and collapsed into the nearest couch, her shoulders shaking as she broke into sobs. Sandra sat beside her, her earlier boldness softening.

Between gasps and sobs, Annabella told her everything. The hospital. The money. Her mom. Her desperation.

Sandra lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before she spoke. "I'll help you, Anna..."

Annabella looked up, eyes red with hope.

"But you'll have to do something for me."

The air shifted. Something about the way Sandra said it made Annabella's heart clench.

"What... what do you mean?" she asked quietly, though part of her already knew.

Sandra smirked, flicking ash into a tray. Her tone turned flirtatious, and her eyes held a teasing gleam. "C'mon now, don't play dumb. You know exactly what I mean."

"Sandra, can't you at least-"

"If you don't want my help, then leave," Sandra snapped, cutting her off. "I'm not begging you."

She stood up, exhaling smoke as she walked toward the window. Sandra wasn't the same girl she used to be. Life had broken her long ago-when her sister died from a sickness they couldn't afford to treat. That pain had hardened her, turning her into what she called "a survivor."

"I offered you a hand, but you don't want it," Sandra continued, shrugging. "So don't come crying later."

Chara, Sandra's equally wild roommate, stood leaning on the wall, phone in hand, grinning like a snake.

"Maybe if you take off that hoodie and let the boys get a peek at those bouncing babies," Sandra said with a wink, "you might just save your mom. You know where to find me."

"Sandy, please... listen to me. I can't-"

Sandra brushed her off and shoved her gently. Annabella stumbled backward a little.

"Don't be such a drama queen," Chara laughed mockingly.

Annabella's jaw tightened, her fists clenched at her side, but she said nothing.

"I won't give up," she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling but determined. "I won't live that life. Not even for five million."

She turned and headed toward the door.

Sandra's voice cut through the silence one last time.

"Don't let your mom die like mine did, Annabella," she said, her tone suddenly raw. "Don't be stupid like me. If I had done what I'm telling you to do now, my sister would still be breathing."

Annabella froze at the door.

"I don't have until next week, Sandra," she cried, her back still turned. "If I don't pay by tomorrow, they'll discharge her. And we can't treat her at home. We can't even afford the medicine!"

Her voice broke. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"You can treat her with your so-called virginity," Sandra sneered, laughing bitterly like the whole thing was a joke.

Annabella didn't respond. She opened the door and stepped out, the sharp sting of humiliation and despair slicing through her chest.

She walked down the street, her eyes blurred with tears, her steps unsteady-but her heart still clung to a single thread of dignity.

She had nothing.But she still had herself.

And she wouldn't sell that-not even for her mother's life.

Or should she?

No she can't and she won't. She won't lose hope at all.

She walked down the street, her eyes blurred with tears, her steps unsteady-but her heart still clung to a single thread of dignity.

She had nothing.

But she still had herself.

And she wouldn't sell that-not even for her mother's life.

Or would she?

As she turned the corner, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She stopped, hesitating before pulling it out.

It was a message from the hospital:

"URGENT: Patient status critical. Immediate attention required. Call back now."

Her vision blurred again-not from tears this time, but panic.

She quickly dialed.

"Hello? This is Miss Annabella-my mother, what happened?!"

The nurse's voice came through, calm but clipped.

"Miss Annabella, your mother's condition has deteriorated. If the payment isn't made by morning, we have no choice but to discharge her. We're sorry."

Annabella walked aimlessly down the street, her steps slow and hopeless. She had been searching for a job all day, knocking on doors, asking for any position-but nothing. No one wanted to hire a girl with "attitude issues," especially after the incident that got her fired the night before.

Her eyes drifted to the restaurant across the road-the same place she was dismissed from just two nights ago. The signboard glowed like a cruel reminder of her helplessness.

D'BONE Restaurant

TWO DAYS AGO...

Annabella had been forced into wearing a tight, skimpy black gown that barely covered her thighs. It was humiliating, but it was the uniform, and she needed the money, desperately else she wouldn't wear it or work there.

She felt every hungry gaze as she moved from table to table, her chest nearly spilling out of the tight neckline. She hated it.

At one table, a smug-looking customer gave her a long, lingering look as she approached.

"Two bottles of wine," he said, not meeting her eyes-but rather, ogling her cleavage. She nodded stiffly and turned to leave.

That's when it happened.

SMACK!

A sharp slap landed on her backside. She gasped, spinning around in shock.

"You were tempting me anyway," the customer said with a smirk.

Fury boiled in her chest. She slapped him-hard-across the face and then dumped a glass of water all over him.

"You psycho!" he shouted, wiping water from his face.

The manager rushed over. Not to support her-but to comfort the man.

"This girl assaulted me!" the man barked.

"He touched my butt! I wasn't going to let that slide," Annabella said through gritted teeth, her voice shaking.

"So what if he touched you?!" the manager exploded. "You think there's anything special about you?"

Her heart broke a little more at those words.

Before she could respond, the manager grabbed her arm roughly.

"Security!"

She tried to explain, pleaded through her tears, but it fell on deaf ears. Security dragged her out as customers whispered and stared.

"This is the second time, Annabella," the manager sneered. "You're done here."

And just like that, her job-her only source of income-was gone.

BACK TO THE PRESENT

Tears streamed down Annabella's face as she sat by the roadside, her head buried in her hands. It was late, but she didn't care. Her world was crashing around her.

Suddenly, a car zoomed past, splashing muddy water on her face. She gasped, drenched, stunned-but too tired to react. The car was already gone.

Her phone buzzed.

It was the doctor.

"Miss Annabella," he said, voice tight, "if you don't make the payment within twenty-four hours, your mother will be discharged, and we'll have to cancel the surgery."

Click. The line went dead.

She stared at her phone.

9:00 p.m.

Her mother was out of time.She took a shaky breath.

Maybe... maybe this was what it had come to.

If her virginity could save her mother, then so be it. Her dignity wasn't more important than her mother's life.

She turned and started running-back to Sandra's place. Back to the one person who offered her a path... no matter how dark.

"Mom," she whispered through tears, "I won't let you die. I'll do whatever it takes."

{GILBERT'S MANSION}

The room was filled with echoes-moans, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin, and the heavy scent of sweat and sex.

"More, baby, more!"

Her screams were loud-too loud-as Charlie Gilbert grunted, slamming into her one final time before pulling out.

He didn't look at her. He just reached into his drawer, grabbed a wad of cash, and tossed it on the bed.

"Don't forget to beep me next time," the girl said, kissing him before walking out naked.

Charlie smirked, lighting a joint as he relaxed. The notorious playboy of the city-rich, powerful, feared.

Sex was his drug. He didn't need love. He didn't believe in family.

Just pleasure. Power. Control.

His father's mansion was his playground. Hotels were too secretive. He wanted his dirty deeds loud, visible. If it embarrassed his father? Even better.

But peace never lasted long.

The door burst open. Mina, his mother, entered with disgust etched on her face.

"Privacy, woman!" he spat, blowing smoke into the air.

"Is this a house or a brothel?!" she yelled, nostrils flaring at the smell of weed.

He puffed directly in her face. "Touch my weed and I'll burn your hand."

"When will you stop this madness, Charlie?"

"The day you stop breathing," he hissed, eyes cold.

"Charlie!"

He leaned in, his voice low and cruel. "You don't deserve an easy death."

Mina stumbled back, clutching her chest. She couldn't recognize her own son anymore.

Charlie turned away, indifferent.

Minutes after she stormed out, his phone buzzed again.

He glanced lazily at the screen.

Unknown Number: "Meet me at the old warehouse at midnight. Come alone."

His lips curled into a twisted smile. He sensed nothing but trouble. Perfect,he loves anything like that.

__________

Mina sat on the edge of her bed, sobbing quietly into an old photo of Charlie as a child.

"He used to love me..." she whispered.

Her husband, Gilbert, walked in from the bathroom and scoffed.

"He'll come around."

"No. You only care because he boosts your political image."

Gilbert stayed silent.

"You turned him into this monster," she added bitterly.

Gilbert didn't argue. He didn't care about Charlie's love. He cared about Charlie's influence.

Just then, his phone beeped.

A text message.

"Your son will be the next in line. I'll make him my pawn,wait and watch".

He blinked. What?

Before he could screenshot or trace it-the message vanished. Number deleted.

He stood up abruptly and called his assistant.

"Double Charlie's security-now. And find out who he's meeting tonight."

"Yes sir."

------------

Annabella stood in front of Sandra's door, her heart pounding. She raised her fist to knock.

But before she could, her phone buzzed again.

A message.

Unknown Number: "You don't need to sell yourself. Come to 52 River Street. Alone."

She froze.

Who was this?Another message came through instantly.

"I can give you the five million."

"I can give you the five million"

"Bella!" Sandra's voice rang out as she opened the door wide,surprised to see her. She was about to come visit her and talk to her but she's here anyways.

"You didn't tell me you were coming."

Annabella stepped inside cautiously, looking around. "Someone texted me right now"

Sandra blinked, feigning concern. "Who? And why?"She asked.

"I don't know"Annabella replied,she must be stupid to think someone would want to give her millions, that's impossible.

"You look exhausted. Sit down."

Too tired to argue, Annabella nodded and dropped onto the worn couch. She rubbed her face, overwhelmed.

Sandra handed her a glass of water and sat beside her.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," she started, her voice suddenly warm, comforting.

"There's a way out of this mess. For real this time. You just need to trust me."

Annabella looked up. "Trust you?"

Sandra nodded. "There's a man. Powerful. Rich. Looking for a clean girl to spend a night with his boss. One night, Bella. And you can name your price."

Annabella's eyes welled up. "I don't think I can-"

Sandra grabbed her hands. "Do it for your mom. Not for me. Not for him. For her."

Her words wrapped around Annabella like chains. With each breath, the illusion of choice grew smaller.

---

LATER THAT NIGHT...

Annabella had showered. Sandra picked out the gown. The makeup. Even sprayed her with perfume.

The weight of everything pressed down on her chest-but there was no turning back. She has to save her mother,come what may!

Annabella stood before the mirror, her reflection nearly unrecognizable. The short, figure-hugging black dress clung to her body, exposing far more skin than she'd ever dared to reveal. Her cleavage peeked through the low neckline, her legs bare up to the thighs. Light makeup masked the fatigue in her eyes, but it couldn't hide the fear laced beneath her smile.

"Bella, you have to smile. He won't pick you if you look miserable," Sandra whispered, adjusting the strap of her gown.

Annabella gave a faint smile, the kind that didn't touch her eyes. She wished a miracle would just happen, like in those movies where someone magically appears and pays off the hospital bills.

"Sandy..." she hesitated.

"I already called Mr. Carter," Sandra cut in quickly. "His boss needs someone clean and untouched. It's a golden opportunity, Bella. You can ask for any amount."

"We've been friends since we were little," Annabella whispered, her voice trembling. "You've always helped me. But... couldn't you go instead?"

Sandra's eyes narrowed slightly, but she laughed it off. "You're not doing this for me. And no one's forcing you. This is your choice."

Annabella swallowed hard. The tears she tried to hide pricked the corners of her eyes. She only nodded.

Just then, Sandra's phone rang.

"She ready?" a deep male voice asked.

"Yes. Come pick her up," she replied and hung up. "Bring her out."

Annabella bit her bottom lip as Sandra gently pushed her toward the door. Outside, a sleek black car waited. One of the guards opened the door, and without a word, she stepped in. Sandra waved, smiling.

Annabella didn't look back.

As the car disappeared into the distance, Sandra's smile twisted. She reached for her phone.

"She's on her way," she said.

"Good. And her mom?" the voice on the line asked.

"I already reminded her the surgery won't happen if she doesn't pay," said the doctor.

"Perfect."

She ended the call with a wicked grin. No one gets to stay perfect forever. Not even Annabella.

---

CHARLIE'S MANSION

The guards led Annabella through the cold, dimly lit hallway. Her legs shook beneath her. The mansion screamed wealth and power-but it felt like a cage.

They stopped in front of a large, dark oak door and opened it without knocking.

Charlie Gilbert lounged on the couch shirtless, a half-burnt roll of weed between his fingers. The smell of smoke and something darker hung thick in the air.

He looked up-and froze.

His sharp blue eyes dragged across her frame, from her trembling lips down to her exposed skin. His expression darkened, not with lust, but something else. Hunger. Possession.

"Leave," he said without looking at the guards.

Once the door shut, Annabella was alone. With him.

"You're new," he said finally, standing up. His tall frame moved like a shadow, slow and dangerous.

"Mr. Carter said I was expected," she replied, voice shaky.

"Expected?" He scoffed. "You look like a damn offering."

She blinked rapidly, unable to respond. What does he mean by that? Offering?

"Strip," he ordered, stepping closer. "Then get on the bed."

Annabella froze. Just like that?

"W-we didn't discuss... the price," she whispered.

Charlie's jaw twitched. He closed the space between them in one stride, grabbing her arm and pinning her against the wall.

"You think I care about money? You're not here to make demands," he growled, his breath hot on her neck.

Tears stung her eyes. "Please..."

He paused, eyes locking on hers. Something flickered in them-surprise? Annabella didn't move, and her silence spoke louder than screams.

"It's... my first time," she said, her voice cracking.

Charlie blinked. The moment stilled.

For the first time, he noticed her trembling-not in seduction, but fear. She wasn't like the others. Her innocence screamed at him, clashing with the storm inside.

He stepped back slightly.

"You're a virgin?" he asked, tone unreadable.

She nodded slowly.

Charlie's hand curled into a fist. His desire hadn't vanished-it intensified. But now, it was darker. Hungrier. Not just for her body-but her soul.

"Get on the bed," he repeated-but this time, his voice was low. Quiet. Dangerous.

Annabella obeyed, crawling onto the massive bed like a lamb to the slaughter. Her heart pounded as she laid back, eyes fluttering shut.

Charlie hovered above her, his eyes taking in every inch of her. Her innocence was intoxicating.

Just as he leaned in, about to taste her-his phone buzzed.

He ignored it.It buzzed again. This time, louder.

Annabella flinched. He growled and reached for it without looking at the screen, ready to switch it off.

But something made him pause.

The message said:

"Do not touch her. She's not yours to ruin, Charlie."

Charlie's entire expression changed.

He looked down at Annabella, then back at the message.

Who the hell sent this?