Trapped In The Tyrannical CEO's Love

"We're sorry, Ms. Sullivan, but with your current condition, an abortion isn't an option."

Adeline Sullivan, her eyes still covered by a soft white silk cloth, stumbled blindly out of the hospital doors. But just a second later, she was yanked back-caught tightly by Oliver Simpson, who had been tailing her closely.

Oliver hissed, "Adeline, why the hell are you running away? This is good news! Can't you see? The baby's father is Waylon-yes, Waylon-from the powerful Holden family! This child could make us filthy rich. Stop resisting and come with me. Watch your stomach, though. I promise, I won't hit you again."

"Let go of me!" Adeline cried out, her body trembling, her voice thick with fear.

She had once lived a peaceful life until a fire ripped her world apart, taking her family and her sight in a single night.

At first, Oliver had treated her with kindness and care. But the moment he realized the wealth her family once had was long gone, something in him changed. He turned violent, striking her without mercy.

Eventually, Oliver's cruelty had reached a new low-he planned to sell her off to cover his debts.

But that very night, Oliver had shoved her into Waylon Holden's room.

Adeline wasn't naïve. She knew exactly what Oliver was doing-he wanted to use her unborn child to squeeze money out of Waylon. And she knew-if she didn't escape today, she'd never get another shot. She was blind, helpless, and running out of time.

Just as Oliver was about to take Adeline away forcefully, the screech of tires cut through the air. A car pulled up, and in the next heartbeat, the grip crushing her arm vanished.

"Mr... Mr. Holden..." Oliver stammered.

"Oliver Simpson? If my memory serves me right, your father used to be a loyal servant of the Sullivan family. And now you're here-treating Ms. Sullivan this harshly?"

The voice sent a jolt through Adeline. It was Waylon! That night came rushing back in vivid, gut-wrenching flashes. The sealed room. The suffocating tension. The sound of fabric tearing. He had lurked like a predator in the shadows, ripping through the night with brutal force.

Oliver's voice quivered. "Mr. Holden, she's pregnant with your child. I-I was just trying to help you catch her..."

Though Adeline couldn't see, she could hear the fear woven into every word Oliver said. He was terrified.

Everyone feared Waylon. He was the eldest son of the president of the Holden Group. In Kranbu, his name alone made people tremble.

"Pregnant?" Waylon's voice dropped a note colder. "Ms. Sullivan, whose child are you carrying?"

Adeline's hands clenched into fists. This was her only chance to get away from Oliver. "Mr. Holden, please help me. Oliver... He's trying to force me into an abortion." She reached out, fumbling blindly until her fingers found the edge of Waylon's tailored sleeve and clung to it.

Oliver's eyes went wide with panic. "No! Mr. Holden, she's lying! I wouldn't dare harm anything tied to the Holden name!"

"Tie him up," Waylon ordered, his eyes landing on Adeline's hand as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

Before Oliver could protest, his arms were seized, and he was dragged away.

Adeline didn't have time to react before she was pulled into a stretch limousine. Her body was shoved onto the sleek leather seats, her arms locked tightly at her sides.

Suddenly, she felt fingers clamp around her ankle. "Don't touch me!" she gasped, the words slipping out with a frightened cry.

"Really, Ms. Sullivan? Didn't you just ask me for help?" Waylon, calm as ever, popped open a medical kit and dipped a cotton swab in antiseptic. He began to clean the wounds on her foot with deliberate care.

Adeline fell silent. Yes, she'd asked for help. But that didn't mean she trusted Waylon. To her, Oliver was a monster, but Waylon was no saint.

Waylon's movements were precise, his expression unreadable, his handsome features showing no emotion. "Ms. Sullivan, I'm sure you understand my purpose. I simply wish to know the father of the baby you are carrying."

Adeline's cheeks burned with embarrassment. She kept her mouth shut, lips pressed together, refusing to answer. She could feel the weight behind his question, the insinuation that she had slept around since their intimate night.

"But actually, it doesn't matter," Waylon added, a faint, mocking smirk in his voice.

Adeline's chest tightened. She understood exactly what he meant. The Holden family couldn't risk the disgrace of a child born out of wedlock. Whether the baby was truly Waylon's or not, it was still a stain they refused to bear. She drew in a shaky breath before whispering hoarsely, "Mr. Holden, I didn't plan any of this. Oliver spiked our drinks and forced me into your lounge that night. I didn't even know it was you. I'm not trying to trap you."

Waylon said nothing. His silence was like a wall.

Adeline's voice quivered as she added, "My condition can't handle an abortion. Please... Just let me live. I'll disappear-I'll leave this country for good. No one will ever know about your child..."

Her voice cracked near the end. But the moment the words left her lips, a sudden jolt of pain shot through her. "Ouch..." she gasped.

Waylon had pressed the cotton into her wounds with deliberate force, eyes following the blood that seeped out before he slowly raised his face to meet hers. His lips curled into a slow, sharp smile as her face contorted with pain. "Oh! So you really see yourself as innocent?" he asked, his smile twisting with cruel amusement.

Beads of sweat thickened on Adeline's forehead, trickling slowly down her face.

Waylon caught her foot in one hand, extending his other hand.

A nearby bodyguard got the cue and stepped forward, placing a dagger in his palm-unsheathed and gleaming under the overhead light.

Sitting there, Waylon pressed the cold steel against the top of her foot and then traced it upward along the length of her calf. A cruel gleam lit his eyes, feeding off some perverse thrill. "I've never seen a woman's insides before," he muttered, almost like he was talking to himself. "I imagine they're softer than a man's..."

Panic surged through Adeline, her thoughts spiraling as she struggled to comprehend. Did he plan to carve her open while she was still alive? Her entire body quaked, and her plea escaped in a broken whisper. "Don't, I beg you..."

Though having stayed indoors in the Simpson family home for the past five years, she had heard every bit of Waylon's infamous reputation.

Waylon had been born into expectations, destined for greatness. Tragically, during one outing with his mother at the tender age of five, his mother had died on the spot when the car crashed. He had disappeared since then.

Fifteen years later, when the Holden family finally located him, he'd transformed into a brutal figure in an illegal casino, infamous for his murderous demeanor and ruthless actions.

In the five years since Waylon rejoined the Holden family, he hadn't exactly mellowed. In fact, he had become ruthless with each passing season.

Adeline knew he was a twisted figure among the elite. His depravity was no secret, but the depths of his moral decay still went beyond her expectations. As the sole remaining member of the Sullivan family, she couldn't allow herself to meet such a cruel and humiliating end.

Adeline shifted and fought, desperate to break away, but Waylon's grip held firm around her ankle, anchoring her in place. The only thing left was to bear the icy kiss of the blade as it traced her skin.

Suddenly, the dagger slid beneath the hem of her white dress, nudging the fabric upward.

Her chest tightened so much that it hurt. She could barely breathe. Her skin turned paper-white.

At this moment, a voice cut through the air like a strike, halting the motion of the dagger. "Mr. Holden."

Zain Stewart, the Holden family's butler, stood calmly by the car door, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Mr. Holden, your grandmother just called," he said evenly. "She demanded that you not act recklessly and marry Ms. Sullivan right away. A Holden must be born under the family name."

"Has she lost her mind? Ordering me to marry the woman who manipulated her way into my bed?" Waylon scoffed. "I'll handle this myself."

Adeline took advantage of his momentary lapse, yanking her foot away in a sharp motion.

As she did so, the blindfold slipped off, and a blast of white light struck her eyes, triggering a sudden sting.

She froze, shocked. Colors bled into shapes, and her eyes burned. But then, just faintly, she saw it. She saw a hazy outline of a man sitting across from her. Her eyes... Had her vision returned?

Sitting sideways, Waylon offered her nothing more than a blurry glimpse of his profile-sharp lines and harsh angles. She fought to focus, but her eyes throbbed, each second amplifying the burn.

Just outside the vehicle, Zain went on relaying the directives of Ruby Holden, Waylon's grandmother. "Mrs. Holden insists on holding a wedding in three days. She'll personally oversee every detail."

Adeline was slightly taken aback by the butler's audacity to continue.

Waylon spun the blade between his fingers, his smirk slow and deliberate. "Come closer and say that again."

Zain eyed the dagger, perspiration forming on his forehead as a chill ran down his spine. Still, he didn't back down. "Mr. Holden, I am obliged to deliver this message, even at the risk of my life," he said steadily. "Mrs. Holden made it clear-if you refuse, she and her husband will hang themselves right at your front door."

The smile vanished from Waylon's face. He went completely still, his jaw set, his stare darkening.

Zain, now pale, reached into his coat pocket. "She also told me to show you this." He held up the phone, screen glowing. "She said once you've seen this video, you'll agree."

Waylon's eyes dropped to the screen, his expression hardening with each passing second.

Across from him, Adeline was still reeling-partly from the light, partly from what she'd just heard. Suddenly, Waylon turned to look at her.

She couldn't fully make out his face, still hidden behind a veil of pale mist. But even without a clear view, she still felt the weight of his stare-frigid, impenetrable, and as bottomless as the sea.

Adeline flinched. Something primal warned her to retreat, but before she could move, a firm hand clamped around her chin, fingers pressing against bone. Pain shot through her.

The nausea hit her fast, twisting in her gut. One of the bodyguards reacted swiftly, thrusting a trash bin in front of her just as she doubled over and vomited.

Afterward, her breathing slowly slowed. Her vision-strangely-sharpened.

When she looked up, she saw Waylon's back clearly. Towering. Broad-shouldered at the limousine door. The very picture of authority. Without warning, he turned sharply toward her, his face moving in closer.

A chill crept down her spine. She indeed could see now. Though she felt like blinking to adjust to her regained vision, she dared not move due to fear.

Then came Waylon's voice, low, smooth, and strangely compelling. "Fine. I'll marry her."

Three days later, Adeline stepped into the grand hall, her white wedding gown trailing behind her, the delicate embroidery catching the light in fleeting glimmers.

A hushed wave of confusion swept through the small gathering. Among them, an elegantly dressed older couple stood motionless, their expressions tight with displeasure.

The wedding ceremony had officially begun. But the groom was nowhere in sight.

Though Adeline's vision had returned, she played the part of a blind bride, standing on the stage and pretending not to notice the tension swirling around her.

Zain hurried over, weaving through the crowd to reach Ruby Holden, Waylon's grandmother, and her husband, Gabriel Holden, Waylon's grandfather. He gave a solemn shake of his head-Waylon was nowhere to be found.

Ruby's face turned an alarming shade of red. Her hands trembled at her sides. "Someone bring me a rope," she hissed. "If that boy doesn't show up right now, I swear I'll hang myself right outside his door!"

Relatives hurried to her side, surrounding her in a desperate attempt to calm her down.

Adeline noticed a middle-aged woman in elegant attire moving toward Ruby with measured steps.

In a hushed tone, the woman leaned in and said, "Ruby, you know how Waylon is-he always does as he pleases. Don't let this upset you. Luckily, the guests today are all familiar faces. No word will get out. Let's just go through with the ceremony."

"Go through with the ceremony? Without a groom?" Ruby shot back.

However, with no better solution in sight, the Holden family selected a tall maid to act as Waylon's stand-in.

The ceremony went on without a hitch. Vows were exchanged, and rings were placed on fingers.

Adeline remained perfectly composed, her hand resting lightly on the maid's arm as if everything was perfectly normal. After the ceremony, she was led to a bedroom.

A soft knock resounded at the door before a voice came gently from the other side. "Mrs. Holden, Mr. Holden has gone on a business trip. He won't be back tonight. Please rest well."

At the wedding, the groom had deliberately chosen not to show up, letting a stand-in fulfill his role. And now, on their wedding night, he didn't come home. For most brides, such treatment would have been crushing-an unforgivable humiliation.

But Adeline felt nothing. Be it a total stranger or a beast in Waylon's place, she would still have walked down that aisle. That was her only shot at a new life, away from Oliver's manipulation.

She locked the door behind her and then turned to take in the extravagant bedroom. Not a single photo of Waylon adorned the space, and none of his personal items were in sight. Even with rose petals scattered across the bed, the room felt cold and hollow.

It was nearly ironic that she was married to a man whose face she could barely remember-just a blurry outline in her mind.

To be noted, for the past three days before the wedding, the Holden family had confined her to a sanatorium. Her room there had been guarded like a prison cell, locked down so tightly that not even a fly could escape unnoticed.

...

On the third day after the wedding, Zain showed up-this time with a lawyer in tow. He placed a stack of papers before her and spoke with practiced detachment. "This is a private agreement between you and Mr. Holden. According to the terms, the marriage is valid only until the end of lactation-assuming the baby is his."

The lawyer slid a Braille document across the table toward Adeline. "This is the Braille version. The contents of this private agreement must remain strictly confidential. In public, you are to state that the marriage occurred under ordinary circumstances."

In other words, once the child was weaned, Adeline would be discarded without a cent. The richer the family, the sharper their knives.

"I lost my sight at fifteen-I never learned Braille," Adeline replied, her voice devoid of emotion.

At her words, the lawyer proceeded to read the contract aloud. When he finished, she stayed rooted to the spot, offering no response. Her hands made no move toward the pen.

"Ms. Sullivan, if not for Mrs. Holden's interest in the child you carry, the Holden family would have already arranged an 'accident' to deal with you for daring to trick Mr. Holden. None could mess with a Holden without facing any consequences."

Adeline didn't move.

"If you refuse this marriage, the Holden family will not allow an illegitimate child to be born. Don't forget-you're pregnant, and a forced abortion is too much for your condition. You wouldn't survive."

Adeline's stomach churned. She didn't want to die. She had fought hard to stay alive. For herself and for the child inside her, she made up her mind. "I'll sign it," she announced.