⚠️ CONTENT WARNING ⚠️
MATURE READERS ONLY (18+)
Anissa and Nelly stepped out of the maternity ward into harsh daylight, the paper with the positive test results clutched in Anissa's hand like a death sentence. The hospital doors hissed shut behind them, sealing away the antiseptic smell and the nurse's gentle voice.
Nelly glanced at her, nervous. "So… what are you thinking?"
Anissa's voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't know, Nel. I need time to think. I don't even know how to face him."
They found a quiet bench under a jacaranda tree, petals scattered on the ground like purple bruises. Anissa sat heavily, staring at the paper as if it might change if she looked long enough.
Nelly sat beside her, close but not crowding. "Look, I won't tell you what to do. It's your body, your choice. But whatever you decide, I've got you. Always."
Anissa's eyes filled. "Thanks. I just… I never thought it'd be like this."
Nearby, Ronnie Coleman lingered against a pillar, phone to his ear, pretending to talk business. But his eyes never left them. Every word drifted to him clear as day. A slow, satisfied smirk curled his lips.
He'd heard enough.
Later that day, in the hushed library, Anissa sat with Kendrick and Henri around a table buried in accounting notes and empty coffee cups.
Kendrick leaned back, grinning. "Yo, Anissa. You're literally a genius. How do you make this stuff look so easy?"
Anissa managed a tired smile. "It's all about patterns. Find them, you win." She leaned over Kendrick's messy page. "See that? You missed a zero here. That's throwing your whole balance off."
Henri whistled. "Damn… can you be my personal tutor?"
Anissa chuckled, the sound lighter than she felt. "I already am, dumbass."
They laughed together, and for a good hour she lost herself in explanations—breaking down concepts, drawing quick diagrams, watching confusion turn to understanding on their faces. For a little while, she felt useful. Needed for something good.
Late afternoon bled into evening on the basketball court. Anissa moved slower than usual, fatigue dragging at her limbs, but she pushed through—dribbling, shooting, the rhythmic thud of the ball the only sound.
Nelly jogged up, hands on hips. "You trying to kill yourself or what?"
Anissa smiled weakly, catching the ball. "Just needed to clear my head."
Nelly took the ball, passed it back. They played in silence at first, the sun sinking low and red.
"Talk to me," Nelly finally said.
Anissa shook her head, chest tight. "Not yet."
That night, back in the dorm, Anissa's phone rang—Terry's name flashing.
She answered, bracing.
"Anissa…" Terry's voice broke immediately, raw with tears. "Mom's gone."
In the background, Kavya's wail pierced the line like a knife.
Anissa froze. The room spun. "What…? No. Terry, no."
"She's gone," Terry sobbed. "She… she didn't make it. This morning. I'm sorry, sis…"
The phone slipped from Anissa's hand, clattering to the floor.
Nelly rushed over from her bed. "Anissa? What happened?"
Anissa's face crumpled. "She's… she's gone."
Nelly pulled her into a fierce hug, holding tight as Anissa shattered—silent, heaving sobs that seemed to come from her bones.
"I'm so sorry," Nelly whispered, rocking her gently. "You're not alone, okay? You got me."
They sat like that on the floor for hours, wrapped in grief and silence.
The next day, in the lecture hall, the professor wrapped up early.
"Anyone needing extra help with anatomy concepts, Anissa will be available after class."
Nelly raised her hand immediately. "Sir, if I may… Anissa just lost her mother. She might need some time."
The room went quiet. The lecturer's face softened. "Of course. Understood. Take all the time you need, Miss Wallenstein."
Anissa couldn't even look up. She just nodded, gathering her things and slipping out early.
That afternoon, Nelly waited outside a small hotel downtown, nerves frayed. Ronnie pulled up in a sleek black car and led her inside without a word.
In the dimly lit room, Ronnie wasted no time.
"I overheard you two at the hospital," he said, voice low. "The pregnancy."
Nelly's stomach knotted. "What do you want, Ronnie?"
"Not to get rid of it." He pulled a thick wad of cash from his jacket, setting it on the table with a soft thud. "Convince her to keep it. Make her see it's a blessing. Steven needs an heir—blood heir. This solves everything."
Nelly stared at the money, then at him. "I… I don't know if I can do that."
Ronnie stepped closer, eyes hard. "You can. You will."
Tension crackled like electricity—anger, fear, something primal and dark bubbling under the surface. Without warning, Ronnie closed the gap, crashing his mouth against hers in a hard, demanding kiss. Nelly froze for a split second… then responded with equal fury, hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.
It escalated fast—clothes torn off in a frenzy, buttons popping, fabric ripping under urgent fingers. Ronnie shoved her back against the wall, rough hands pinning her wrists above her head with one grip, the other yanking her skirt up around her waist. His mouth was everywhere—biting her neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, claiming.
Nelly gasped, nails raking down his back, drawing thin lines of red. "You bastard," she hissed, but her legs wrapped around him, pulling him tighter.
Ronnie growled low, thrusting his hips against her, grinding hard through his pants. "Shut up and take it."
He released her wrists only to spin her around, pressing her chest against the cold wall. One hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back just enough to expose her throat. The other slid between her legs, fingers rough and insistent, plunging inside her without preamble. She was wet—hate and tension making her ready despite herself.
"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, fingers curling, pumping fast. "Acting all high and mighty, but you're soaked for it."
Nelly bit back a moan, pushing back against him. "Fuck you."
He chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers only to undo his belt with a sharp snap. His pants dropped, and he pressed against her from behind—thick, hard, unrelenting. One thrust, and he was inside her, deep and rough, no gentleness.
She cried out, hands scrabbling at the wall for purchase as he set a punishing rhythm—hard, fast, each drive slamming her forward. His free hand gripped her hip like a vice, bruising, controlling every movement.
"Take it all," he grunted, teeth grazing her shoulder, biting down just hard enough to draw a gasp. "This is what you get for sticking your nose in."
Nelly arched back, meeting him thrust for thrust, the mix of pain and pleasure blurring into something explosive. Tension fueled every slap of skin, every ragged breath. He reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing rough circles that made her legs shake.
She came first—hard, clenching around him with a muffled scream, body shuddering against the wall.
Ronnie followed moments later, thrusting deep one last time, spilling inside her with a low groan, hips jerking.
They stayed like that for a beat, breathless and spent, before he pulled out, stepping back coldly.
Nelly dressed in silence, avoiding his eyes, shame and anger warring on her face.
Ronnie tucked the cash into her bag anyway. "Do it," he said flatly.
Evening shadows stretched long outside Anissa's dorm. Her phone buzzed.
STEVEN:
Come over.
Anissa stared at the screen, fingers hovering. For the first time, she typed back:
Not now. I'm busy.
Across town, Steven stared at his phone, stunned. The message sat there—delivered, unread after that.
"What the hell…?" he muttered.
Frustration boiled over. He punched the wall hard enough to rattle a framed photo, knuckles splitting.
Something had shifted.
And he didn't like it.