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Worst Fear 52

Worst Fear 52

Chapter 52 

Lydia 

Honestly, I don’t want to pull away. I am smiling within. He couldn’t help himself anymore

Turning away from him and having nuts, which I am allergic to, all were part of my plan to make him unable to control himself, and much to my delight, they yielded the effect I wanted

I won’t try it, though; I’m okay with my choice,” But I couldn’t take a bite from it since Mason was holding my hand. Gripping it tightly, while at the same time trailing my thumb with his

His touch ignited something within me. His finger felt hot as it continuously trailed my thumb, and for a moment, I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me.. 

The lady seated by Marcus’s side called his attention. He turned to her, and taking that opportunity, I turned to Mason

He is staring straight into my eyes. I drew in a scent of breath, willing myself not to give off the vibe that I was beginning to get 

nervous

What do you think you’re doing?I mouthed to him, my eyes glancing around to make sure no one saw this

You are allergic to nuts.His voice is not as low as mine. But it was drowned in the music enough that those around us didn’t hear

Stop.I say, Free my hand this instant.My voice is sharp, but he doesn’t bulge, he just keeps holding on to me. His eyes didn’t move away from mine for a moment

It was as though he was trying to tell me, I won’t let you hurt yourself, and there’s nothing you can do.” 

Well, you are so wrong, Mr Woods

The next moment, I pushed down the fork I had kept on the table earlier

It made a clanging sound, and at that moment, Marcus turned; now, he’d have to let me go

But I was wrong. Mason wasn’t letting go of my hands. Are you good there?Marcus asked. I turned to him and nodded, smiling, Mason picked the fork himself and placed it on the table, his eyes pinned on Marcus

Marcus’s jaws ticked. I looked between both men

Mason looked like he would separate Marcus’s head from his body at any moment. The clattering of forks and knives mixed with the music. The air smelled like food

However, the air around us was heavy, thick enough for a knife to cut through. I bit the inside of my lips, unsure if this was going the way I wanted

Miss Brooks,, I love baklava bites too. Does this mean we have the same taste?Mr. Augustine’s voice resounded, and I wasn’t more relieved to hear his voice

Mason placed my hand on his lap, causing me to lean to his side. I tensed when I felt my hand on his couch

It was just a brush, but I felt it

His dick was hard and was pushing against the trousers

1/3 

Chapter 52 

Yes, I said flatly; my tone proved that I didn’t want to go further with the conversation 

Brooke, do you want to- 

Oh my god, Mr. Marcus.a lady’s voice interrupted Marcus’s words. I can swear I heard him curse under his breath before coming 

to her

Alina.He said before switching to Italian

Mason sighed; he tugged on my hand gently and slowly. I shifted my gaze from Marcus, who was now standing, to hug the woman

You can’t have nuts, Lydia.His voice is deep and husky

And you think holding my hand would stop me?Lasked, and I felt the grip tighten, but not enough to hurt me

Mr Woods, do you realize you are crossing the line right now?I questioned

If that means you don’t get yourself killed, then so be it.” 

I scoffed, Now you care?My tone was bitter, I know, but I couldn’t help it Quit the pretense; what is it to you if I die?Isn’t that what he always wanted

That was why he set the prison ablaze five years agohoping to finally get rid of the thorn in his side forever

Lydia!His voice was sharp

What?I raised a brow matching his intensity

Marcus had left with the woman

Isn’t that what you always wanted?” 

Goodness Lydia, why would you say that?” 

Let my hand go,Not until you get that removed.I looked around, noticing the weird glances being thrown at us

But he didn’t care

I don’t care either

You don’t get to tell me what to do. I am not yourWIFE!Anger started to brew within me. That Lydia that he could easily push around was gone

The word wife seemed to have cut him off guard, and his eyes softened

We are divorced, Mason. I am not yours, and you have no right to hold me against my will 

He didn’t say anything, and for the next second, we just sat there staring into each other’s eyes

If you don’t let my hands go, then I’ll scream.His eyes moved down. Slowly, he looked up, trailing my body, and I felt violated in the most holy way

I should be having this effect on him and not the other way around. I kicked myself internally

Chapter 52 

Get a grip over yourself, Lydia; you should be in charge

But my body seemed to have another mind. I drew in a breath

How could his eyes set me on fire this much

*Then cream, I don’t care.He said, You aren’t eating that.His words were drenched with more command that concern, and that seemed to pull me away from my trance

A smug look appeared on my face, and with our eyes pinned on each other, I picked the fork with my right hand instead of my left

I turned away from him and placed it in my mouth. Then, I took two more bites

His eyes widened

alfi I said and then placed another bite in my mouth. It melts in my mouth 

It’s my life, and you don’t get to I live or 

slowly, and I slowly chewed on the nuts.. 

Mason let go of my hand and stood up briskly, pushing his chair back

It screeched loudly on the ground

Call an ambulance right now.” 

Worst Fear

Worst Fear

Score 9.9
Status: Ongoing Type: Native Language: English
Worst Fear Synopsis : Worst Fear

Lydia’s world was already a crumbling ruin long before she collapsed on the cold, bleach-slick tiles of Westgate Prison. She had been serving her sentence with quiet endurance, forcing herself to survive each monotonous day. Cleaning floors, enduring the harsh routine, and trying to numb her thoughts had become her way of life. But as she gripped the mop handle, her body betrayed her — dizziness washed over her, and before she could steady herself, the world went black.

When she regained consciousness, Lydia found herself lying on a thin mattress in the prison hospital. The sterile smell of disinfectant filled her lungs, and her head ached violently. A familiar figure stood by her bedside — Nurse Gloria, a kind-hearted woman often whispered about by the inmates for her compassion. Lydia had never personally interacted with her before; she preferred keeping her distance from everyone. But this time, she had no choice.

Gloria spoke softly, her voice calm and motherly. “You fainted during your shift,” she explained. Lydia, groggy and disoriented, nodded faintly. Fainting wasn’t unusual for prisoners — malnutrition, exhaustion, and stress were daily realities in Westgate. But Gloria’s next words didn’t fit the routine explanation. She leaned in, her tone serious and almost secretive. “I ran some tests to see why you collapsed.”

Lydia’s brows furrowed. Tests? The nurse’s expression made her heart race. Something was wrong. And then Gloria said it — words that hit Lydia like a lightning strike.

“You’re three months pregnant.”

For a moment, Lydia’s world went silent. The walls, the lights, the nurse — everything faded into a blur of disbelief. Pregnant? That couldn’t be right. Her throat went dry as she tried to process the impossible. Three months. Her hands instinctively flew to her stomach, pressing against the rough fabric of her prison uniform. There was nothing — no bump, no sign of life — yet Gloria’s certainty left no room for denial.

Lydia’s first reaction was refusal. “No,” she whispered. Her voice trembled. “That can’t be right.” But Gloria simply nodded, her expression heavy with empathy. “It’s right, Lydia. I double-checked the results myself.”

The truth settled like a stone in Lydia’s gut. The symptoms she’d ignored — the morning dizziness, the fevers, the missed periods — suddenly made sense. Deep down, she knew this was no mistake. Panic clawed at her chest as she realized what this meant. Her past — the one she’d buried so carefully since the day she was arrested — came rushing back. The man she had loved, the night she had tried to forget, the betrayal that had shattered her life.

Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall in front of Gloria. She couldn’t afford weakness here. Her voice was barely a whisper when she pleaded, “Please… you can’t tell anyone. No one can know about this.”

Gloria studied her for a long moment. Lydia could see the internal conflict behind the nurse’s eyes — between her duty to report and her compassion for the broken woman before her. Finally, Gloria sighed softly and nodded. “I won’t say a word,” she promised. Relief washed over Lydia like a wave, but it was fleeting. Gloria wasn’t finished. “But you have to promise me something too. You’ll come back for regular checkups. No skipping, no excuses. You and the baby need to be monitored. Do you understand?”

Lydia nodded mutely, emotion choking her voice. She didn’t trust herself to speak. The nurse gave her hand a gentle squeeze before stepping away to inform the guards that Lydia needed rest.

The walk back to her cell felt endless. Two guards flanked her on either side, but she barely noticed them. Her mind was spinning, replaying Gloria’s words over and over — three months pregnant. Each repetition felt like a hammer blow. She stumbled into her cell, collapsing onto the thin, creaky cot. The metal door slammed shut behind her, sealing her inside with the suffocating truth.

She stared at the ceiling for a long time before curling up on her side. Her trembling hands hovered over her stomach, fear twisting in her chest. She could barely keep herself alive in this place — how could she protect an unborn child? Westgate wasn’t meant for fragile things. It was a graveyard of hope, a place that crushed even the strongest spirits. What kind of life could she possibly give her baby behind these bars?

The tears she had fought earlier now spilled freely, sliding down her cheeks as silent sobs wracked her body. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if she could shield the tiny life inside her from the cruelty of the world beyond her cell walls.

For the first time in years, Lydia prayed. Not for freedom, not for revenge — just for strength. For the chance to protect this unexpected child growing inside her.

As she turned her hand, the faint glint of her wedding band caught her eye. The ring mocked her, its shine a cruel reminder of the life she had lost. Three months ago, everything had been perfect — or so she thought. Her marriage had felt like a fairy tale. Even though her in-laws despised her, she had still believed love could conquer everything. Her husband had been her safe haven, her anchor.

Until the night everything fell apart.

The memory was sharp and unforgiving — flashing lights, police sirens, his face twisted in disgust as she was dragged away in handcuffs. The betrayal in his eyes had hurt worse than the accusation itself. That image haunted her still, burned into her mind like a scar that would never fade.

Now, lying in that cold, dim cell, Lydia finally understood how deep her despair ran. The baby inside her was both a curse and a fragile glimmer of hope. A connection to the man she once loved — and the life she could never return to.

As exhaustion finally claimed her, her last thoughts were of him — the man she’d once trusted more than anyone. His expression, full of hatred and disbelief, was the last thing she saw before the darkness took her again.

And for the first time, Lydia realized she wasn’t just a prisoner anymore. She was a mother — trapped in a place where love and life were luxuries no one could afford. But no matter what, she silently vowed: she would find a way to protect her baby, even if it meant fighting the entire world from behind these bars.

 

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