Hi everyone, my name is Selah.
Selah Evangeline Brooke.
I'm a twenty-year-old normal Christian girl, brought up in a very influential family. Yeah, my dad's a politician, but he's also a well-known pastor and deacon.
I never knew my mom. After she died, I've been living a life of hell. Yeah, I'm rich and all, but what's money without happiness? My dad made me suffer.
He raised me as if I were a boy. I never had tea parties, dolls, or even friends. I was shy but outspoken, lively, and full of life, yet I always hid it because of my dad.
Still, I believed he was a good man—a wonderful politician.
He was always gone.
He ignored my birthdays.
He treated me like a political asset, not a daughter.
He preached love publicly but spoke harshly to me privately.
He used Bible verses to control me, not to guide me.
I grew up confused: "Why does Daddy preach kindness but shout at me?"
He demanded I behave like a "pastor's daughter" with zero mistakes.
Every failure made him angry. I never felt enough.
He rarely smiled at me.
Never hugged me.
Never said, "Well done" or "I'm proud of you."
But glory be to the Creator who found me.
God visited me when I was eight years old.
I was in a coma after an accident, and there He was, seated on His throne, smiling at me.
"My daughter, I know you want to stay, but I have greater plans for you. I'll always be with you, no matter what. You won't lose, and you're enough."
Anytime my father made me feel worthless, I remembered those words. God's Son was with me, smiling, hugging me while I cried.
Angels bowed and worshiped His holy name. I felt safe and secure.
God knew I didn't have anyone to rely on—not even my father—but I was able to scale through.
---
Back to the Present
I looked around, my head throbbing with pain. I didn't know what happened. I opened my eyes slowly, adjusting to the morning light filtering through the window.
I sat up, confused, looking around this enormous room.
My room at home was big, but not as big as this. Every piece of furniture was black. Bedsheets, curtains, shelves, walls, floor—everything was black.
The only thing that made the room beautiful was the silver chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the rays of sunlight that peeked through.
This wasn't my room. Neither was it my house. I was still in my white dress, now stained with blood, but my wounds were already treated, just fainted scars and a bandage on my head.
I stood up and went towards the mirror. I was right, faint scars and a bandaged head. A small shock crossed my face.
I looked around, saw my bag, and thankfully, my Bible was there. Any other thing could have been missing, gone forever—but the Word of God? No way.
---
I heard the soft click of a key turning in the door before it opened. Wide, sure, and steady. And there he stood.
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. A tall figure, perhaps six foot four, framed by the morning light. His hair fell neatly in that thoughtful, almost windswept way—a quiet confidence in his stance. Dressed in a simple black polo and dark trousers, he looked both ordinary and striking all at once.
My breath caught—not from vanity or charm—but from the strange peace that seemed to walk in with him.
It wasn't lust or anything like it. It was like we were looking into each other's soul. He had a calm presence, yet a dark side was showing—a combination of both calm and dangerous. He stared at me, no emotions, just watching as if calculating how to prey on me without my knowing.
"What's your name?" he finally broke the silence.
I stood dumbfounded, unsure whether to speak or remain mute.
"I don't like repeating myself twice," he added, his tone warning this time, sending chills down my spine.
"S–Selah… S–Selah Evangeline Brooke…" I stammered.
He raised a brow. "So he's your father, huh?"
I gave him a confused look. What does he mean, he's my father? What business does my dad have with him? What's going on?
"Your father…"
He started toward me, but his steps slowed. He turned toward the tall curtain framing the glass door leading to the balcony. With a simple motion, he drew the fabric aside. Light poured in—golden, full, as though heaven itself had breathed upon the room.
"He's one of my enemies…"
"…Excuse you?" I flared up immediately. How dare he speak about my father like that? My dad, a noble man, a man of God, a politician who has worked hard for this life! My Lord won't allow this.
The moment I realized what I'd said, I clapped my hand over my mouth. Oh Father, I'm in trouble. Can this be the Holy Spirit? But the Holy Spirit wouldn't let me put myself in danger… would He?
He looked at me, calm as ever, as if expecting my outburst.
"You're already blinded by his money?"
"Don't you dare think I'm one of your 'wanna-be bimbo' girls who rely on their father's money. I work hard every day to make mine, and glory be to God, I do excellently well," I said.
Somehow, I didn't feel fear. I was ready to face him.
But I noticed something else—his focus wasn't on me, but on my bed. I turned, and there it was: my Bible…and, my goodness, my period. How? When? It's not supposed to be yet.
"Claret!" his deep voice echoed.
An older-looking woman entered with a smile. "You called, sir? Good morning, miss. I hope you slept well?"
Embarrassed, I gave a small wave.
"Clean this bed, help her change, and bring her for breakfast."
He took my Bible. "Hey! That's mine. Can't you ask?"
Mrs. Claret looked shocked by the way I spoke to him, but I didn't care. Before I could speak again, I heard a soft whisper:
"Let him have it."
I stopped. I knew that whisper anywhere—the Holy Spirit. I smiled.
"You can have it," I said.
He looked confused but quickly covered it up.
"Come on, miss." Mrs. Claret pointed to the bathroom. I knew what she meant. It's alright, ma, I'll take care of myself. I just need a sanitary pad.
She smiled and returned with a box. "This should help for the meantime."
"I'll be gone by the day," I said.
There was fear in her eyes, but I knew God was with me. He brought me here for a reason. No man could harm His daughter, His princess.
"Any of Mr. Jaycen's enemy's relatives who fall into his hands… they never go out alive."
My eyes widened. "What?!" I shouted.
"Shhh… please don't shout. I could lose my job… worse, my kids. Cooperate with him—he is very dangerous. I don't want him to hurt you," she pleaded.
I felt fear creeping on my skin, but I refused to let it control me. Not now. Not at all. I knew this was the devil's handiwork.
I nodded, telling her I wouldn't cause trouble. She left the room and I slowly walked to the bathroom
---
The bathroom was unlike any I'd seen—marble floors, pure white, gleaming beneath a chandelier that seemed too luxurious for a place meant for washing the day away. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and something richer—masculine, powerful. Even the mirror seemed to hold secrets.
I caught my reflection and whispered a prayer: Lord, keep my heart steady. Don't let me be moved by what glitters.
I quickly washed myself in the golden bathtub and came out with a white towel wrapped around me. A simple sundress and underwear were laid out. I wore the dress—it fit perfectly.
I grabbed my phone from my bag. Thank God it was still there, but it had only two percent battery. I dialed my dad's number. Nothing. I tried my brother's. Dead too. Great.
"God, please… let this go through," I prayed.
---
Jaycen POV
She had lost consciousness immediately from the shock. She looked so small and fragile in my arms, her bag on her tummy. Her beautiful grey hair and big baby-blue eyes—it dawned on me. I knew exactly who she was: Selah Evangeline Brooke, the daughter of my biggest enemy, a man who claimed to be a politician with a good heart and a man of God, but behind that mask, he was a drug smuggler. Unfortunately for him, he had crossed my path more than thrice. Now, his daughter had made it the fourth time.
"Get the car ready," I said in a dark voice. My men ran to action.
I looked at her—so beautiful while she slept peacefully.
The car arrived. I placed her gently in the front seat, using the seatbelt to hold her in place.
"Clear this place before noon," I told my men. They nodded.
I didn't know what to do with her yet—but I couldn't let her go to waste. She was too beautiful to let go.
I kept my eyes on her and the road.
"She will be mine," I whispered.
"And you're to love her like Christ loves the church."
I hit the brakes immediately.