Billionaire’s Abandoned Sex Slave

Ophelia’s POV

I strolled through the hospital hallway with the bouquet of dahlias mixed with daisies clutched in my hand.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Room thirty one,” I mumbled to myself as I gazed at the room number slates which were firmly glued to the doors.

Soon, I got to room thirty one. I knocked gently and waited quietly for the inhabitant to usher me in.

“Is that Miss Ophelia? Please come in,” Isabelle’s voice came out in the form of a weak whisper and I smiled to myself before I pushed the door open, and quietly slammed it shut.

I took in the sight of Isabelle lying on the bed, clutching her newborn in the small bundle, and nostalgia swept over me.

I recalled the day I gave birth to Jeremy. No one was beside me while I pushed him out of me, nobody came to drop flowers and congratulate me at the hospital.

I cried so hard for some weeks after I got home. It was after then that I decided to make friends with Daphne.

Isabelle’s situation was also similar to mine. But she was raped by her boyfriend, and she was just eighteen years of age.

She had no family in London. She had previously mentioned to me that she was from Italy, and she moved to London for greener pastures.

I rushed to her side, dropped the flowers on the nightstand, and smiled at her.

“Belle, how are you feeling?” I asked, taking my seat on the chair near the bed.

She shrugged tiredly and huffed, “Like shit. I had an emergency cesarean section so my entire body is quite sore as the meds are starting to wear off,” Isabelle muttered, to which I oohed.

“I can understand. I’m sorry about that. Don’t worry, it will get better. In about two days from now, you will see great changes,” I reassured her with a smile, as I gently patted her shoulder.

“I hope so. Thanks for coming, Miss Ophelia. You really didn’t have to, but you did. I don’t know I I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for everything you’ve done for my baby and I. I hope the universe blesses you abundantly,” Isabelle wept, holding the bundle on her chest tighter.

I fought back tears as I chuckled and got up to hug her tenderly, “It’s fine, Belle. You don’t always have to thank me, okay? Your baby is my godbaby, and it’s my responsibility as her godmother to make sure you’re both okay. So it’s fine, alright?”

“Alright,”

After we disengaged from the hug, I darted a smile at Isabelle, “Can I hold her?”

“Oh. Sure, you can,” She nodded eagerly, outstretching her arms.

My smile widened as I carefully retracted the baby from her hold, and took her in my arms. A great wave of baby fever swept over me as I stared at the infant’s red face, black curly hair and barely-opened blue eyes.

The thought of having an adorable baby girl with my hazel eyes, coupled with Ryan’s dark hair struck me, and I chuckled softly to myself before I realized what I had just done.

What sort of absurd idiotic imagination had I just envisioned?

I shook the ridiculous thought off, blinked rapidly to clear my mind before I gazed once more at the infant.

“Does she have a name yet?” I asked Isabelle as I gently rocked the baby.

Isabelle weakly shook her head, “No,”

I nodded wordlessly and focused my attention back on the infant. I smiled as she let out gentle coos and grunts.

“She’s an absolute angel, Belle. Congratulations,” I whispered, mildly patting the baby’s back.

Isabelle smiled weakly and nodded, “Thanks, Miss Ophelia,”

“You’re welcome,” I smiled back.

Isabelle and I talked for about an hour before I left the hospital.

Then, I headed home. I stepped into the elevator with a sigh and my arms folded across my chest.

“Wait. Just a minute please,” Someone yelled just as the elevator doors were about to slide shut.

The person got in, and my face turned ashen with fury when I saw Ryan smiling down at me as he walked into the elevator.

I decided to ignore him as I tapped in my floor’s number. I held my breath as he reached from behind me to click on the keypad.

“Sorry,” He muttered as I wriggled myself away from him.

I ignored him, and remained unperturbed as I stared at the walls. I could feel his hot gaze burning into my nape from where he was standing behind me, but I paid him no attention.

“Pardon me for being curious, Ophelia,” He started, do which I rolled my eyes scornfully but remained silent.

But I haven’t seen Jeremy’s dad since the day I got here. Does he not live with you guys or something? Or are you both separated?” He asked, and I stiffened as my throat suddenly became parched with anxiety.

I couldn’t let him discover my nervousness, so I decided to ignore him and I continued staring at the grey walls of the elevator.

“You aren’t saying anything. Or is he abusing you? Does he not want to take responsibility for you and Jeremy?” Ryan pestered me once more.

His oblivious questions were now starting to get on my nerves. Why was he suddenly so concerned about Jeremy’s dad?

“Or are you hiding Jeremy from his dad? Does Jeremy even know he has a dad?” Ryan questioned, in an eerily quiet tone.

My breath hitched in my throat as I whipped my neck around to face him, “Mind your business, Torres. Leave me and my family alone!”

Strangely, he didn’t seem fazed at all by my outburst. Instead, he chuckled and started approaching me.

Instinctively, I retreated from him until my back was against the wall. I gazed up at him with fear glazing my eyes.

“What are you doing?” I squeaked, glaring at him.

He brought his face dangerously near to mine, so close that if I took a step forward, our lips would meet in a kiss.

“When were you planning on telling me the truth?” He whispered, trapping my head in between his arms.

“W-what truth?” I stammered.

He chuckled again before he lifted his face from mine, and brought his lips to my ear, “I know I’m Jeremy’s dad, Ophelia. You can stop the act now,”

My eyes almost popped out of their sockets in horror as he drew back to menacingly stare down at me.