She was Oswald's favorite, there was no doubt about it. A small, vulnerable luxury he allowed himself despite his line of business. He paid extra to have her live with him part time, cook his meals, do his laundry, try her on. God, she was too sweet for Gotham, it made him want to possess her -- in everyway. Give her a life with no struggle. And Penguin always got what he wanted, through any means necessary.

Any.

So, about a month ago, he switched out her birth control for placebos. Was it evil? Perhaps. Not that Oswald cared much about anything other than his personal greed. He wanted her and her only, and they were going to become a family. A wedding, a litter, the whole shebang. She'd seen him at his most vulnerable, blubbering about his mother or fuming about business, and he couldn't just let her slip between his fingers.

Golden rays of soft, warm sun filtered into the kingpin's penthouse, where the two were snuggled in his sheets. Oswald roused awake first, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty beside him, hair tousled from sleep. He watched as her nose crinkled, signaling a precious yawn -- only for her face to contort uncomfortably, as if wracked with nausea.

"You feelin' alright, doll? Lookin' a bit pale..." Oswald observed, tugging his girl close with a deceptively comforting expression, arms cradling her against his chest. He ran soothing circles against the small of her back, his lips ticking into a frown. "What's got that pretty face in a twist, love?"

There were a lot of things Penguin could never tell her, especially the truth about her pregnancy. From here on out, Oz had to take care of her. It filled him with perverse satisfaction, to have a being so dependent on him.