Prisoner In Silk Sheets: A Wife With No Way Out

The previous week, the ultrasound had revealed only one gestational sac. Now, Anna gazed at the screen, transfixed, as two distinct forms became visible inside her womb.

Two lives. Two children.

Afterward, she sat in the hospital corridor, holding the ultrasound image tightly, unable to fully comprehend what had happened. The doctor had explained that twin pregnancies were rare and warned her that if she chose to terminate this one, she might never have the chance to carry twins again.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. It made sense now. None of this had happened by accident. The Ashford family's private doctors had orchestrated it all. When they implanted the embryos, they never bothered to tell her. To them, she had been nothing but a vessel, valued only for her ability to bear children.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her bag. She answered, her mind still numb.

"Anna, your father is dying! Come home quickly!"

The voice belonged to her mother, trembling with grief.

Anna's entire world seemed to collapse around her. Dad... dying? How could that be? She knew he had been hospitalized after his company's bankruptcy, but she had never imagined his condition was this dire.

The Hart house descended into chaos and sorrow the moment Anna crossed the threshold. Amber hurried her into the main bedroom.

Adam Hart lay in bed, his breaths shallow and his eyelids heavy. When he saw his daughter, he managed to lift a trembling hand. Tears welled in Anna's eyes as she took hold of it.

"Dad, why didn't you go to the hospital?"

Alice's cold voice answered in his place, "With what money? Did you think the Ashfords gave enough to pay for proper medical care? Every cent went to the debts. Either way, he's incurable. The sooner he's gone, the better!"

Her words, as sharp as knives, lingered in the room before she slammed the door and left.

Anna remained by her father's side, clutching his hand tightly.

"Don't listen to her... Dad, I want you to live. Please, I'm begging you..."

Adam did not reply. His tear-filled eyes stayed fixed on her, and his lips quivered.

"Anna... my daughter... I've betrayed your mother... I'll find you in the afterlife..."

His grip slackened without warning, and his arm dropped, lifeless.

A wail cut through the house. Anna felt her heart shatter.

Three days later, as rain poured down, Adam Hart was buried. Only a handful of people attended; the downfall of the Harts had scattered both friends and acquaintances.

At the cemetery, only Ambre and Anna remained after everyone else had left.

"Do you still hate him, Mom?" Anna asked, her gaze fixed on the tombstone.

Ambre's eyes lowered.

"Yes. Even in death, I won't forgive him."

"Then why are you crying?" Anna whispered.

Ambre let out a weary sigh.

"Because I loved him. Love and hate don't always exist separately. Sometimes, they live side by side—and it's unbearable."

Worn out, Anna finally returned to Ashford Manor. Three days had slipped by since her father's death, yet no one from the Ashford family had reached out to her.

As she stepped through the gate, Anna noticed the brilliant lights spilling from the living room. The house buzzed with guests, glasses of wine in hand, laughing and chatting in a lively, festive atmosphere.

Mrs. Miller spotted her first and hurried over.

"Ms. Anna! Please, come inside—it's raining."

Anna slipped off her black coat and accepted the slippers the housekeeper offered. But when she glanced toward the living room, her heart tightened.

All the guests turned to her, watching as if she were some unusual spectacle. Julian sat in the center of the sofa, a cigarette resting between his fingers, a cold haze of smoke swirling around him. Next to him sat a striking woman, her long black hair cascading over a fitted white dress.

They sat so close, no one could mistake the intimacy between them.

The woman rose and walked over, a provocative smile playing on her lips.

"You must be Anna Hart, right? The wife Mrs. Hilary selected..." She looked Anna over with a critical eye. "You're quite pretty, but a bit... frail. I mean your figure, not your age."

Anna met her gaze.

"You're beautiful, you have curves, and in every way, you surpass me. So tell me, when will Julian marry you?"

Anna's sharp, even tone made the woman's confident mask falter.

"How dare you? Even if you are his wife, if I slapped you now, Julian wouldn't so much as lift a finger!"

She raised her hand, poised to strike.

Before she could get close, a sudden crash rang out. Anna had just brought the wine bottle down hard against the coffee table, shattering it with a violent crash. Fragments of broken glass caught the light as she closed her hand tightly around them.

With bloodshot eyes, she aimed a jagged shard at the intruder.

"You want to hit me? Then do it! If you dare lay a hand on me, I'll kill you!"

The entire room fell silent. The guests stared in disbelief at the young woman they had always thought timid and compliant.

From his seat, Julian watched her closely. Smoke drifted from his lips as his eyes flashed with something strange—a blend of anger, admiration, and emotions he refused to reveal.

A heavy silence settled over the living room, so thick that even a heartbeat seemed loud.

Anna hurried upstairs and slammed her door shut behind her. The sharp sound echoed through the manor, as loud as an explosion.

In this household, almost no one dared challenge Julian Ashford's authority. Still, he remained calm, looking completely unbothered, as though nothing unusual had happened. Those close to him knew that even the slightest disturbance could irritate him. Yet, the noise of Anna's door slamming thundered through the house, far surpassing ordinary outbursts.

As if things weren't already tense enough, Anna had just shattered a thirty-thousand-dollar bottle of wine—showing not the slightest trace of remorse.

At last, a quiet murmur cut through the heavy silence. "I heard that Miss Hart's father died recently... She must have just come from the funeral."

The speaker, Jessy Merrick—elegant in a white dress—managed public relations for the Sterling group. It was her birthday, and she had gathered a few of Julian's closest friends to help celebrate both her special day and his return to good health. Yet Anna's outburst had cast a shadow over the evening Jessy hoped would shine.

Mindful of Julian's reputation for volatility, Jessy approached him with care and spoke in a low, measured tone. "Please forgive me, Julian. I didn't know her father had passed away."

Julian crushed his cigarette, lifted his glass, and drained it in a single motion. Then he spoke, his voice grave but gentle. "Happy birthday."

Color rose in Jessy's cheeks as she murmured, "Thank you."

But he quickly added, straightening his collar as a chill crept into his eyes, "No matter what happens, Anna Hart is not someone to be mistreated. Even if she were nothing more than a pet in the Ashford household, I alone would have the right to rebuke her."

Jessy's posture stiffened.

"But you're on the verge of divorce..." she whispered. "Very soon, she may not matter at all."

A chill swept through Julian's eyes.

"Even what I throw away, I will not allow anyone else to humiliate it."

At that moment, Mrs. Miller appeared, carrying a rag and a bucket to gather the shards of glass and clean the wine-soaked carpet. Someone poured another glass for Julian.

A guest tried to ease the tension as they said, "Don't be too harsh, Julian. Jessy didn't do anything wrong. She'd never lay a hand on Miss Hart."

Another guest joined in, teasing, "Come on, Jessy, three drinks in a row to make up for it!"

Jessy nodded and prepared to drink, everyone's eyes on her. Before she could start, Julian signaled to his bodyguard, then stood and left the room in silence. Jessy watched him go, her eyes growing red, and then finished her three drinks.

"Well, there goes the guest of honor... Shall we keep the party going?" someone remarked.

"Of course! Jessy still thinks she'll become Mrs. Ashford one day."

Regardless of her hopes, Julian was openly discussing divorce. Anna was difficult, they said. How could he stand living with a woman like that?

...

In the guest room, Anna curled up with her knees pulled close to her chest. Tears streamed down her face, finally breaking the dam she had maintained for three days. Her father's last words of regret echoed in her mind, dissolving every trace of resentment she had held against him. Exhausted from crying, she eventually drifted into sleep.

The next morning, her eyelids burned and felt heavy. She put on a clean nightgown and went downstairs, driven by a sharp, aching hunger. But when she saw Julian already seated in the dining room, her steps faltered.

"Breakfast is ready, Ms. Anna. Please, come!" Mrs. Miller announced.

In the past, Anna would have avoided him at all costs. But since he had kept postponing the divorce, a strange sense of courage had taken root inside her. She sat at the far end of the table. Just as she raised her fork to her lips, Julian's flat voice cut through the quiet:

"The bottle you broke yesterday cost thirty thousand dollars."

Anna's face went pale. That much—for a single bottle of wine? Did he expect her to repay him? Her empty stomach twisted painfully.

Then Julian spoke again, his tone razor-sharp. "Consider this a warning. If you break anything else, you'll pay for every cent of it."

Oddly enough, his words chased away her anxiety and brought back her appetite. Yet, when the meat was served, a wave of nausea swept over her and she pushed her plate aside.

"Is something wrong, Ms. Anna?" Mrs. Miller asked with concern.

"No... I just feel like eating vegetarian food," Anna replied.

After breakfast, she changed clothes to meet with Adam's lawyer, as they had arranged to meet at ten. On her way out, she bumped into Julian, who was also leaving with his bodyguard.

She hurried toward the road, but the cold wind—a remnant of last night's rain—made her stomach churn. She stopped and leaned over a trash can, fighting a surge of nausea.

A silver sedan approached and slowed down.

"Isn't that Mrs. Anna?" the driver asked, glancing at her as the car drew closer.

In the back seat, Julian stirred awake and immediately opened his eyes.

"She's throwing up, Mr. Ashford," the driver added.

Still rattled by her dry heaves, Anna straightened and met Julian's piercing gaze through the lowered window. Sunlight glinted off the car's body, and his cold eyes seemed to see straight through her.

Blushing, she bent forward and stammered, "I think I just ate too much at breakfast."