I stood my ground, refusing to budge an inch towards Denzel's car, my resolve like a fortress against his coercion.

Miranda and Jennifer rushed out the moment they saw us arguing, eager to intervene.

Miranda shouted, "I never should've brought you into this world! You're so damn ungrateful to your sister! Why don't you just pop out a baby for her first, and then one for yourself? It's not gonna kill you!"

Her usual calm demeanor had vanished, replaced by a chilling glare that could pierce steel.

Jennifer's eyes were red, her voice shaky as she tried to defend Denzel, "If you're trying to point fingers, point them at me! Denzel has nothing to do with this!"

Denzel maintained his facade, trying to appear composed, his voice a soothing balm. "Don't worry, we'll hash this out at home. I bet Louisa will do whatever for Jennifer."

Inside, his thoughts were a torrent of rage. "You little bitch, you're gonna pay when we get home!"

Miranda and Jennifer stood off to the side, watching my distress unfold without lifting a finger to help, their silence a heavy weight on my shoulders.

As Denzel inched closer to the car, I felt a surge of panic. I knew he was about to pull out a taser, his intent as clear as the devil's grin.

In a desperate move, I elbowed Denzel hard in the face, the impact reverberating through my arm. I managed to whip out a small knife I had concealed in my pocket, the blade glinting in the dim light.

"Back off, or I swear I'll take every single one of you down with me!"

My voice trembled with fear, but I held my ground, the knife a fragile line between life and chaos.

I had been screaming for help the entire time Denzel had me cornered, my cries echoing through the unfamiliar city.

I thought no one would come to my aid, but to my surprise, neighbors began peeking out from their homes.

Hope rekindled inside me as I sprinted toward the gathering crowd, my desperation driving each step.

My voice cracked, raw with urgency, "Help! I'm freaking stuck with my crazy family! I need to get out of this hellhole, NOW!

"My husband and that witch sister of mine swapped my embryos! They're trying to force me into having their damn baby! Please, I'm begging you—help me get the hell out of here!"

I pleaded. My words were like a desperate lifeline thrown into the sea of incredulous faces.

Heads popped out from every direction, curiosity and concern mingling in the eyes of onlookers. A few brave souls stepped in front of me, creating a barrier between Denzel and me.

"Who the hell is twisted enough to do this? Let's get this straightened out!" one person shouted, and I cried out, feeling as if I had finally found sanctuary amid chaos.

As three people approached me, I felt a surge of confidence.

With so many witnesses, Denzel couldn't possibly drag me back against my will.

He strolled over, looking down at me with a cruel smile that sent a chill down my spine.

"Babe, your mental health really seems to be slipping. But, like, when did you even get pregnant? We've never heard anything about it..."

His words were like ice water, shocking me into a momentary stupor.

He chuckled, glancing at the crowd behind me. "My wife's been struggling for years, you know? Her treatment hasn't exactly gone great lately, so just bear with us, okay?"

I turned around, frantic to explain, "No way! I'm totally pregnant! I've got the proof to back it up! I'm not losing it..." My voice was a threadbare whisper against the storm of his lies.

Denzel feigned sympathy, his tone dripping with false concern. "It's my fault for letting a mentally ill person waste everyone's time. I'll take her home now."

The crowd's expressions shifted, their initial concern evaporating like morning dew under the harsh sun of his deceit.

"Oh, she's got some issues? Guess it's best to steer clear, then."

"That poor dude! Even with a wife who's off the rails, he's still doing his best to help her out. What a stand-up guy."

I watched helplessly as Denzel seized me again, his grip like iron as he dragged me toward the car.

His thoughts were laid bare, a sinister roadmap of intentions.

"Your proof is sitting in that damn house. If you even dare to run back inside to get it, I'll bolt you in there so tight you won't see the sun again. If you can't prove it, you're screwed, and there's no way you're walking out of here today!"

Desperation clawed at me as I realized the precariousness of my situation.

I struggled desperately, yelling for help, but my cries seemed to dissolve into the air like smoke, leaving me isolated and unheard.

I felt like a dying fish, thrashing on the shore, gasping for breath but finding not a glimmer of hope for survival.

Each panicked gasp echoed my despair.

Denzel's patience waned, his demeanor shifting from amused dominance to cold fury. Suddenly, his large hand clamped around my throat, choking off any sound that dared to escape my lips.

"Don't even think about escaping!" Denzel hissed, his breath hot against my skin, a menacing whisper that filled me with terror.

His gaze was icy, devoid of empathy, the pressure of his grip tightening like a noose, making it harder for me to breathe.

With every passing second, the edges of my vision darkened, fear clawing at my insides.

But even in that suffocating grip, defiance sparked within me. I glared back at him, refusing to be entirely subdued, and forced a mocking smile.

"If anyone should be escaping, it's you..." I managed to rasp, my voice a mere whisper of rebellion.

With a weak, trembling arm, I pointed behind Denzel, my pulse racing with the flicker of hope that surged through my veins.

He whipped his head around.

As he saw what lay behind him, his eyes widened in shock, the mask of control slipping as uncertainty crept into his expression.