The days passed slowly, each one blending into the next as Maya adjusted to the life Zayed had carved out for her. The villa was beautiful, a place of peace and seclusion, but the peace came with a price. Zayed’s control over her was absolute. His constant presence, his watchful eyes, his firm, unyielding hands—it was all consuming.

One morning, as Maya was lounging by the pool, a slight tremor ran through her body. It had been happening more frequently—small moments of dizziness, a fluttering sensation in her chest, as though something was off. But whenever she mentioned it to Zayed, he merely brushed it off, his concern masked by his usual commanding tone.

“You’re tired,” he would say. “It’s the pregnancy. You’re carrying my child. You need to rest.”

But Maya knew her body better than anyone. Something wasn’t right. She was careful with how she brought it up again, but Zayed’s reaction was swift and unyielding.

“You will stop worrying,” he ordered, his voice sharp. “You’re fine. The doctor will see you later today. For now, you’ll rest. I won’t have you stressing about nothing.”

The way he spoke to her—so dismissive, so controlling—struck a nerve. But Maya knew better than to argue. She had learned long ago that challenging Zayed only brought more of his attention, and right now, she didn’t want any more of it. She had come to fear his anger, even as she craved his approval. The truth was, she didn’t know what she wanted anymore. She wasn’t sure where the lines were anymore between his control, her love for him, and her own needs.

Maya stood up, her movements slow, as she made her way inside. The villa was vast, but every corner felt like it belonged to him. Everything was under Zayed’s watchful eye. She couldn’t escape it. She couldn’t escape him.

Later that afternoon, Zayed returned from a meeting, his sharp features tight with the stress of his business dealings. He walked into the room, his eyes immediately searching for her.

“You’re still not resting,” he said, his voice low with disapproval.

“I’m fine,” Maya replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was just reading.”

Zayed’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he walked toward her. Without a word, he reached out and pulled her into his arms, his grip firm and possessive. “You’re not going anywhere, Maya. Not while you’re carrying my child. You will stay here with me, and you will rest. Understand?”

Maya’s heart raced, her breath catching in her throat as she looked up at him. The control in his voice was undeniable. But there was something else there too—something darker, something possessive.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, even though she hadn’t done anything wrong. She was just being honest. She was scared.

Zayed held her tightly, his lips brushing against her forehead as he sighed, his voice softer now. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re just… you’re mine, Maya. And I won’t allow anything to harm you. Or our child.”

Maya closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his words sink deep into her chest. He wasn’t just controlling her; he was claiming her, body and soul. And in some twisted way, she couldn’t bring herself to resent it. She had become as addicted to him as he was to her. His obsession was a part of her now.

And so, she surrendered to it.