The heavy double doors of the boardroom swung open, cutting through the suffocating tension like a sudden interruption to a storm.

A woman stepped inside.

Cecilia Vance.

She carried herself with the effortless elegance of someone who had spent her entire life being admired. Every detail about her appearance was carefully chosen—the designer dress that perfectly framed her figure, the flawless makeup, the confident smile that belonged on the cover of a magazine.

But Damian Cavill knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving.

Victor Cavill, still burning from the humiliation Damian had delivered moments earlier, clenched his fists.

He didn’t spare Cecilia a glance.

Without a word, he walked past her, his footsteps echoing through the empty boardroom before the door slammed shut behind him.

Cecilia didn’t even react.

Her attention was already fixed on Damian.

To Cecilia, the ruthless businessman everyone feared simply didn’t exist. She saw only the man she believed she understood better than anyone.

“Damian.”

Her voice softened as she walked toward him.

Not the voice of a business partner.

Not the voice of a childhood friend.

Something warmer.

Something she had convinced herself was love.

She lifted the insulated bag in her hand with a small smile.

“You look exhausted. I knew you would forget to eat again, so I personally had the chef prepare your favorite.”

Damian didn’t look at the food.

He simply adjusted the button of his suit jacket.

“My office. Now.”

The smile on Cecilia’s face remained perfectly in place.

But only for a second.

A brief flash of irritation crossed her eyes before she quickly buried it beneath the sweet expression she had mastered over the years.

She followed him.

Because Cecilia Vance had always believed patience would eventually be rewarded.

And she had been waiting for Damian Cavill for a very long time.

Inside his office, Damian settled behind his massive executive desk.

Cecilia placed the food container on the coffee table before taking the seat opposite him.

She studied him quietly.

The world saw Damian as untouchable.

Impossible to reach.

But Cecilia believed she knew the man beneath the reputation.

“You’ve heard the rumors this morning, haven’t you?” she asked, excitement flickering in her eyes.

Damian continued looking at his tablet.

“What rumors?”

A smile touched her lips.

“The ones about us.”

She leaned back, completely absorbed in the future she had already imagined.

“The media is obsessed with us. They’re calling it the perfect combination. Fashion and technology. Aura Luxe and Cavill Enterprises.”

Her eyes shone with certainty.

“Our companies complement each other. Our families have history. Everyone can see it, Damian.”

She paused.

“We would be unstoppable together.”

For a moment, Cecilia disappeared into the fantasy she had built.

A future where she stood beside him, and everyone accepted what she believed had always been obvious.

“People can say whatever they want.”

Damian’s voice cut through her imagination.

Her smile faded slightly.

He finally looked up.

“But you need to stop this, Cecilia.”

Her brows tightened.

“Stop what?”

“Following me to my office. Bringing me food. Creating stories about something that does not exist.”

His voice remained calm.

That almost made the words hurt more.

Cecilia’s fingers tightened around her purse.

“Damian, I’m only trying to care for you as a—”

“As a friend.”

He finished for her.

“And that is all we are.”

Silence filled the room.

“We are childhood friends. Business partners. I respect you.”

His grey eyes remained emotionless.

“But respect is not love.”

For a moment, the perfect smile disappeared.

Then it returned.

But Damian noticed.

“You always do this,” Cecilia whispered.

“Do what?”

“Push people away.”

She stepped closer.

“You think being cold makes you stronger. You think needing no one means no one can hurt you.”

Damian said nothing.

Because she was right about one thing.

He had built walls around himself.

But she was wrong if she thought she could tear them down.

“You saved me, Damian.”

Her voice softened.

“When everyone else walked away, you stayed.”

A faint tremor entered her words.

“You were the only person who saw me when I was at my lowest.”

Damian looked away.

Five years ago.

The hospital room.

The endless nights.

The girl who had almost lost herself.

“I understand why you feel indebted to me.” Damian said.

“What you feel is gratitude, Cecilia. Not love.”

The words struck deeper than Cecilia wanted to admit.

Her expression changed.

Only briefly.

Then the smile returned.

A beautiful smile.

A dangerous smile.

“Maybe you don’t see it yet.”

She moved closer to his desk.

“But one day, you will.”

Her eyes held an unwavering certainty.

“You will realize that I have always been the person standing beside you.”

Damian watched her carefully.

There was no anger in her voice.

No desperation.

Only complete belief.

And somehow, that was more unsettling.

“Damian, the world may see you as ruthless, but I know better. One day I’ll melt that icy heart of yours. Open your eyes. I am the only one who is meant for you… the only one who will ever truly love you.”

She forced a tight, chilling smile back onto her face. “I’ll see you later, Damian.”

The click of Cecilia’s stiletto heels finally faded down the corridor, leaving the office wrapped in a heavy, airless silence.

Damian leaned back in his chair.

The mask he wore so effortlessly began to crack.

He opened the drawer to retrieve a file, but his hand stopped when his fingers touched a small, tarnished silver charm.

A reminder of a time before everything became complicated.

Before Cecilia’s gratitude became something darker.

His mind returned to five years ago.

The hospital room.

The smell of antiseptic.

The dim fluorescent lights.

Cecilia curled into herself on the bed, her eyes empty, her spirit nearly broken.

Everyone else had stepped away.

But Damian stayed.

He remembered the countless hours.

Getting her to drink water.

Getting her to believe tomorrow was worth reaching.

Then came the day everything changed.

Cecilia had grabbed his sleeve tightly, her fingers trembling.

“You saved me, Damian.”

Her voice was barely a whisper.

“No one else matters.”

A pause.

“Only you.”

At the time, he thought it was gratitude.

He didn’t realize it would become an obsession.

After that day, she began memorizing his schedule.

Finding reasons to be near him and quietly watching every woman who approached him.

Every rejection was met with the same patient smile.

As if she believed time would eventually change his mind.

Damian closed the drawer.

The movement triggered the familiar pain beneath his ribs.

His jaw tightened.

Three years.

That was all the doctors had given him.

The clock was already moving.

Slowly, the pain faded.

Then something caught his attention.

A thin strand of dark silk clung to the sleeve of his sweater.

Valerie.

A silent reminder of the woman he had left behind only hours earlier.

He closed his eyes.

And saw her.

Those crystal-blue eyes staring at him as he walked away.

Not anger.

Not hatred.

Something quieter.

Something far more dangerous.

For a brief moment, his chest tightened.

Then the feeling disappeared behind the walls he had spent years building.

He opened his eyes and brushed the strand from his sleeve.

It meant nothing.

It had to mean nothing.

The sharp, persistent buzz of Valerie’s phone shattered the silence of the master bedroom.

She glanced at the screen and swallowed when Tiana’s name flashed across it. Taking a quiet breath, she answered the call.

“Tiana, hey.”

“Val! Finally!” Tiana’s voice burst through the speaker, accompanied by the clatter of dishes and chatter in the background. “You disappeared after quitting the bar. I’ve been worried sick. Where are you? And how are you making money now?”

Guilt twisted in Valerie’s chest.

Tiana knew she’d escaped the bar, but she knew nothing about the crushing debt, the contract marriage, or the fact that Valerie was now living in a mansion worth more than their entire neighborhood.

“I’m okay,” Valerie replied, forcing steadiness into her voice. “I actually found another job. I’m working as a private assistant now.”

“Seriously? That’s amazing!” Tiana exclaimed. “See? I told you something better would come along.”

A smile tugged at Valerie’s lips despite herself.

“It’s… demanding,” she continued. “The hours are unpredictable, so I’ve barely had time to check my phone.”

“Well, your mysterious boss owes me,” Tiana teased. “Come out with me tonight. We’ll grab cheap tacos, and you can tell me everything.”

Valerie’s smile faded. Almost instinctively, her hand drifted to her stomach.

“I’d love to, Tiana. Really. But this week is impossible. Can we make it another day? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

A dramatic sigh echoed through the speaker.

“Fine, busy woman. But you’re buying dessert next time.”

Valerie laughed softly.

“Deal.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will.”

The call ended.

The smile on Valerie’s face slowly disappeared as she lowered the phone onto the bed.

The room felt quiet again.

Too quiet.

For the first time, the mansion didn’t feel luxurious.

It felt like a gilded cage, slowly separating her from the people who mattered most.

She had spent most of the afternoon sitting cross-legged on the bed, her old laptop balanced on her knees.

Lines of code scrolled across the screen as she continued rebuilding a firewall system she had started months ago—before her father’s death had brought everything in her life to a halt.

It wasn’t finished.

Not even close.

But every line she wrote helped silence the chaos in her mind. For a little while, she wasn’t the woman trapped in a contract marriage or drowning in debt.

She was simply Valerie.

Focused.

Creating.

The sharp sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor.

Almost instinctively, she snapped the laptop shut.

The movement was so natural it surprised even her.

It wasn’t that anyone had forbidden her from working. The project simply felt… personal. It was one of the few things that still belonged entirely to her, untouched by contracts, obligations, or pity.

After a moment, she exhaled, saved her progress, slipped the laptop into its case, and finally headed downstairs.

The mansion buzzed with quiet activity.

Maids polished crystal chandeliers until they sparkled like diamonds beneath the afternoon light, while, in the spacious state-of-the-art kitchen, Nanny Fay stood with an inventory list, calmly directing the staff.

Valerie paused at the entrance.

She still wasn’t used to any of this.

“Nanny Fay?” she called gently. “Do you need any help? Maybe I could help prepare dinner?”

Nanny Fay looked up so quickly her reading glasses nearly slipped down her nose.

“Miss Valerie?” she exclaimed.

The older woman hurried over before Valerie could take another step into the kitchen.

“Oh, no, no, no.” She gently took the apron from Valerie’s hands. “The Young Master was very clear. You are not to do any housework. No cleaning. No cooking. No lifting. You’re to rest.”

Valerie blinked.

“…Rest?”

“Yes.”

The hypocrisy of it stung. Damian treated her like a piece of fragile glass through his proxies, issuing strict rules to keep her pampered, yet when he looked at her himself, his eyes held nothing but icy indifference. He didn’t treat her with a shred of genuine affection, yet he wanted her kept in a velvet prison.

“And do what exactly?” Valerie asked, gesturing around the enormous mansion. “Count the chandeliers?”

A few of the maids bit back smiles.

Even Nanny Fay struggled to hide her amusement.

“Miss Valerie…”

“I’m serious.” Valerie sighed dramatically. “I’m going to lose my mind if I spend another day staring at the walls.”

She reached for the apron again.

“If I can’t clean, then let me bake.”

Nanny Fay quickly caught the apron first.

“But the Young Master—”

“I’m not asking to renovate the kitchen.” Valerie laughed. “I just want to make cookies.”

The older woman hesitated.

She looked at Valerie.

Then at the untouched ingredients.

Then back at Valerie’s hopeful expression.

Finally…

A warm smile spread across her face.

“…I suppose baking cookies isn’t exactly hard labor.”

Valerie’s face lit up.

“Thank you!”

Within minutes, flour dusted the countertop, butter melted into mixing bowls, and the rich scent of vanilla slowly filled the kitchen.

She measured ingredients with practiced ease, humming softly under her breath as she spooned neat dollops of cookie dough onto a baking tray.

“My mom used to make these every Sunday,” she said quietly, a small smile touching her lips.

“The whole house would smell like vanilla before I even got out of bed.”

Nanny Fay listened without interrupting.

“She was the kindest person I’ve ever known,” Valerie continued. “She believed every problem could be solved with good food and enough love. She taught me everything”.

The smile on her face dimmed.

“My father was… the opposite.”

Her hands slowed.

“If he wasn’t drinking, he was gambling. If he wasn’t gambling…” She gave a small shrug. “…he was shouting.”

Silence settled between them.

Nanny Fay’s heart tightened.

Then she noticed the streak of flour across Valerie’s nose.

A laugh escaped her.

“Oh, child.”

Valerie frowned.

“What?”

“You’ve got flour all over your face.”

Valerie blinked before trying to wipe it away with the back of her hand.

Unfortunately…

She only made it worse.

The kitchen erupted in soft laughter.

Even Valerie couldn’t help laughing at herself.

The kitchen filled with the comforting aroma of warm butter and vanilla as the cookies baked.

For the first time since arriving at the Cavill estate, Valerie looked genuinely at ease.

She laughed softly at something Nanny Fay had said, her bright smile lighting up the room in a way the expensive chandeliers never could.

A faint streak of flour rested across the bridge of her nose, completely unnoticed.

Valerie checked the cookies through the oven door before dusting the flour from her hands.

“I think these are going to turn out better than the last batch,” she said with a grin.

“They already smell wonderful,” Nanny Fay replied warmly.

Valerie smiled, reaching for another bowl.

Neither of them realized someone else had entered.

Damian stood quietly in the arched doorway, his suit jacket draped over one arm, his tie loosened after a long day.

He had returned earlier than expected - and stopped the moment he saw her.

His eyes followed Valerie as she laughed, carefully arranging the cookies onto a tray with effortless concentration.

There was no hesitation.

No fear.

No sadness.

Just… peace.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t interrupt.

He simply watched.

The sharp edge he carried throughout the day seemed to dissolve, if only for a moment.

Without realizing it, the rigid line of his mouth softened into the faintest hint of a smile.

It was so brief that even he would have denied it had anyone mentioned it.

Nanny Fay turned toward the cooling rack and froze.

“Y-Young Master…”

Her voice instantly shattered the peaceful atmosphere.

Valerie’s laughter died.

She spun around, her smile disappearing the moment her eyes landed on Damian.

The warmth in the room evaporated.

His expression had already returned to its usual unreadable calm.

As though that fleeting softness had never existed.

Valerie instinctively folded her arms across the flour-dusted apron.

“I was bored,” she blurted out before he could speak. “I wasn’t hurting anyone. I just… wanted to bake.”

Damian’s gaze drifted briefly to the flour on her nose.

Then back to her eyes.

“I didn’t say you were doing anything wrong.”

His voice was calm.

Almost impossible to read.

Valerie blinked.

She had been fully prepared for a lecture.

Instead…

“Go upstairs,” Damian said evenly.

“Change into something formal.”

A brief pause.

“We’re going out.”

Valerie frowned.

“Going out?”

Damian had already turned away.

“Be ready in thirty minutes.”

Without another word, he walked out of the kitchen.

“Does he always speak in riddles?” she muttered under her breath.

Nanny Fay hid a smile.

“Only when he’s in a good mood.”

Valerie looked at her in disbelief.

“That was a good mood?”

Nanny Fay only smiled.

As Valerie untied her apron, her hand unconsciously drifted to her lower stomach.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips.

Soon, she thought. I have to tell him. I can’t keep this from him forever.

Thirty minutes later, Valerie stepped out of the mansion wearing a simple cream-colored dress that fell just below her knees. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was elegant enough to satisfy whatever mysterious standard Damian seemed to have in mind.

He was already waiting beside a sleek black sports car.

Without a word, he opened the passenger door.

Valerie hesitated for only a second before getting in.

The drive unfolded beneath a blanket of silence.

The city drifted past the window in blurred streaks of glass, steel, and afternoon sunlight. Valerie glanced at Damian more than once, tempted to ask where they were going, but one look at his unreadable profile convinced her otherwise.

She folded her hands in her lap.

If he wanted her to know, he’d tell her.

If not…

She wasn’t going to waste her breath.

Several minutes later, the car slowed before an imposing government building.

Valerie frowned.

This wasn’t a restaurant.

Nor was it one of Cavill Enterprises’ towering office buildings.

Damian stepped out first.

“Come.”

She followed him through a private entrance, where a middle-aged registrar was already waiting inside a quiet, wood-paneled office.

The man rose immediately.

“Mr. Cavill.”

Damian acknowledged him with a brief nod.

Everything had clearly been arranged in advance.

Two documents lay neatly on the polished desk.

A fountain pen rested beside them.

Damian picked it up and held it out to Valerie.

“Sign.”

She looked down.

Her heartbeat stumbled.

Marriage Registration Certificate.

For a long moment, she simply stared at the words.

So…

This was how it would happen.

No wedding dress.

No flowers.

No vows.

No family.

No friends.

Just signatures.

Just ink.

Just a contract becoming legal.

A faint ache settled in her chest, but she swallowed it down.

This wasn’t a marriage born of love.

She had known that from the beginning.

Taking the pen with slightly trembling fingers, Valerie signed her name.

The ink dried almost instantly.

Damian accepted the pen from her without a word and added his own signature beneath hers—steady, precise, completely without hesitation.

The registrar examined both signatures before pressing the official seal firmly onto the certificate.

Thud.

The sound echoed through the quiet office.

It was done.

They were now husband and wife.

Damian slipped his copy of the certificate into the inside pocket of his suit jacket before meeting Valerie’s eyes.

His expression remained unreadable.

“In three years,” he said calmly, “the contract ends.”

A brief pause.

“You’ll be free to live whatever life you choose.”

The words were matter-of-fact.

Nothing more.

But to Valerie, they landed like ice against her skin.

Even before their marriage had truly begun…

He was already talking about its end.

Valerie forced a small nod.

“I understand.”

Whether she truly did… she wasn’t sure.

Damian looked at her for another second before turning toward the door.

“We’re leaving.”

The registrar opened the office door for them.

The corridor outside was quiet, its polished marble floor reflecting the warm afternoon light pouring through the tall windows.

Their footsteps echoed in the silence.

Valerie trailed half a step behind Damian.

Her fingers unconsciously brushed against her lower abdomen.

A strange wave of nausea rolled through her.

She frowned.

Not now…

She had barely eaten all day.

The stress, the pregnancy, the whirlwind of emotions—it all seemed to be catching up with her at once.

She drew a slow breath, hoping the dizziness would pass.

Instead…

The hallway tilted.

The marble pillars blurred before her eyes.

She blinked hard.

The world refused to steady.

“Damian…”

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He stopped.

Before he could turn around, Valerie instinctively reached out, her fingers grasping at empty air.

“I…”

Her knees buckled.

The color drained from her face as darkness swallowed her vision.

Her body pitched forward….

The marble floor rushed up to meet Valerie, but the impact never came.

A pair of powerful, rigid arms clamped around her waist, catching her dead weight before she hit the ground. Damian’s heart gave a violent, uncharacteristic leap against his ribs. For a fraction of a second, the iron control he prided himself on shattered entirely.

“Valerie!”

Her head fell back against his shoulder, her face a terrifying shade of porcelain white. Damian didn’t hesitate. He scooped her up into his arms, ignoring the startled gasps of the administrative staff, and marched straight out the private exit to his car.

The private wing of the Cavill Medical Center was silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor.

Damian stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the unconscious woman lying on the hospital bed. An IV line disappeared into the back of Valerie’s pale hand.

The door clicked open.

Dr. Harrison entered, scanning the digital chart in his hands before looking up at Damian.

“She’s stable, Mr. Cavill,” the veteran physician said. “The fainting spell was caused by a combination of emotional stress, mild dehydration, and hormonal changes. Given her condition, it isn’t entirely unexpected.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

“Her condition?”

Dr. Harrison adjusted the tablet in his hand.

“She is approximately six weeks pregnant.”

Silence settled over the room.

Damian didn’t respond.

His gaze slowly shifted to Valerie.

She looked so small lying there, her face almost as pale as the white sheets beneath her.

For the briefest moment, his fingers curled into a tight fist at his side.

His heir.

The final condition his grandfather had imposed.

He had expected it. The timeline left little room for doubt. But hearing the words spoken aloud made the reality impossible to ignore.

By the time he looked back at Dr. Harrison, every trace of emotion had disappeared behind the familiar mask of control.

“The first trimester is especially delicate,” Dr. Harrison continued. “With her current stress levels, she needs proper nutrition, plenty of rest, and as little emotional strain as possible. Any severe shock could put both her and the baby at risk.”

“I understand.”

Damian’s voice was calm.

Steady.

“She will have everything she needs.”

When Valerie’s eyes fluttered open, the harsh scent of antiseptic washed over her. A nurse in crisp white scrubs was gently checking the monitor beside her bed.

“Oh, you’re awake,” the nurse said with a warm, reassuring smile. “Don’t try to sit up too fast, dear. You gave your husband quite a scare.”

Husband. The word felt foreign, heavy, and completely wrong. Before Valerie could even process her surroundings, the heavy door pushed open.

Damian stepped into the room, his figure immediately swallowing the light. The temperature in the space seemed to plummet instantly. The nurse, sensing the sudden, suffocating shift in the air, quickly gathered her clipboard. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she murmured, slipping out and clicking the door shut behind her.

Valerie pulled the thin hospital blanket tighter around her chest, staring up at Damian as he walked over, stopping just short of the bedside.

“You’re pregnant,” he delivered the news without a single ounce of preamble, his grey eyes boring into hers like twin lasers.

He paused, his gaze tracking every micro-expression on her face. He was waiting for the gasp. He was waiting for the widened eyes, the tears, or the frantic denial of a girl caught off guard.

But it never came. Valerie’s expression didn’t change; her lips simply pressed into a thin, defensive line, her gaze dropping to the blanket.

Damian’s eyes darkened, a flash of pure, unadulterated fury igniting in the grey depths. The realization hit him like a physical blow: she already knew.

“You already knew.”

Valerie’s fingers tightened around the blanket.

“…Yes.”

Silence stretched.

Damian continued watching her.

“How long have you known?”

She lowered her eyes.

“A few days.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Valerie swallowed.

“I wanted to.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I just… didn’t know how.”

Another silence.

Longer this time.

Damian searched her face, as though weighing every word she had spoken.

Then something hardened behind his grey eyes.

“You sat in my car.”

His voice turned cold.

“You walked into that registrar’s office.”

He took one slow step closer.

“You signed a legal marriage certificate…”

Another step.

“…knowing you were carrying my child.”

His hands came down on either side of the mattress, trapping her beneath his shadow.

“You knew.”

His voice dropped into a dangerous whisper.

“And you chose to keep it from me.”

“Damian, I—”

“Quiet,” he snapped, his anger boiling over. “Did you think you could use this as leverage? Were you planning to wait for the ink to dry on the contract before pulling this out as a weapon to demand more? I told you from day one, Valerie—I tolerate many things, but I do not tolerate games. Especially not when it comes to my family’s legacy.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Valerie protested, her own anger flaring through her weakness. “I found out few days ago! I didn’t know how to—”

“Save it,” Damian cut her off ruthlessly, straightening back up to his full, imposing height. The coldness in his eyes was absolute. “The contract is sealed. You are carrying the Cavill heir. Right now, protecting that child is your priority.”

Without another word, Damian turned toward the door.

“Damian.”

Her voice stopped him.

Quiet.

Not angry.

Not pleading.

Just… tired.

His hand settled on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn around.

“I didn’t hide it because I wanted something from you.”

A shaky breath escaped her.

“I hid it because I was scared.”

Silence.

“I’d only known for a few days. I kept trying to find the right moment…” She gave a small, bitter laugh. “Turns out there never was one.”

Damian remained motionless.

“I thought you’d think exactly what you just did.”

Another pause.

“That I was trying to trap you.”

His grip on the doorknob tightened almost imperceptibly.

“But then again…” Valerie said softly, “…maybe you were always going to think the worst of me.”

For one fleeting second, something shifted in Damian’s expression.

Regret.

It disappeared so quickly it could have been imagined.

Without another word, he opened the door and walked out.

The heavy wooden door closed behind him with a quiet click.

Not a slam.

Just a sound that somehow felt colder.

Ten minutes later, the nurse returned with a quiet message: The Master has left. His private driver is waiting downstairs to take you back to the estate.

The return to the Cavill mansion felt completely different. The moment Valerie stepped through the grand front doors, she realized the entire atmosphere had shifted.

The changes were immediate and suffocating. When she walked into the dining room, the light, simple meals she usually requested were gone. In their place was a highly specific, nutrient-dense spread tailored precisely for prenatal health—completely organic, devoid of any caffeine, and meticulously portioned.

The maids didn’t just bow; they moved around her like nervous shadows. They scurried ahead of her to clear even the slightest wrinkle in the carpets, terrified she might trip. When she retreated to her bedroom to escape their watchful eyes, she opened her wardrobe and froze.

Every shelf had changed.

The clothes she had brought with her were gone.

In their place hung rows of elegant silk maternity dresses, luxurious cashmere cardigans, soft designer loungewear, and comfortable flat shoes in every shade imaginable.

Even the toiletries on her dressing table had been replaced with pregnancy-safe products.

Everything had been chosen for her.

Without asking.

Without consulting her.

Without even telling her.

Valerie slowly closed the wardrobe doors.

The mansion hadn’t become more luxurious.

It had become smaller.

The walls hadn’t moved.

But somehow…

They felt closer.

Frustrated and feeling physically sick from the confinement, Valerie grabbed a shawl and headed for the front doors, needing desperately to feel the outside air. But as she reached the threshold, two massive security guards stepped into her path, their expressions apologetic but completely immovable.

“We apologize, Madam,” the lead guard said, bowing his head. “The Young Master has issued strict directives. You are not permitted to leave the estate grounds under any circumstances for the duration of the first trimester.”

Valerie’s chest heaved with resentment. “I just want to go for a walk!”

“You may use the private lawns, Madam. But the gates remain locked.”

Biting back tears of pure frustration, Valerie spun around and marched out the back glass doors, pacing furiously across the endless, manicured green lawns just to burn off the trapped, frantic energy inside her.

The sun had long set, casting the sprawling estate in deep, twilight shadows by the time the distant hum of a sports car signaled Damian’s return.

Valerie was still out on the grass, staring blankly at the distant fountain, when she heard his heavy, commanding footsteps approaching from behind. She didn’t turn around. She already knew who it was.

Damian stopped a few feet away, his silhouette tall and rigid against the moonlit backdrop.

“You need to be more careful.”

His voice was calm.

Measured.

“You are responsible for two lives now.”

Valerie remained silent.

“The doctor was very clear.”

“No unnecessary stress.”

“No strenuous activity.”

“You’ll follow the meal plan.”

“You’ll stay inside the estate until the first trimester is over.”

Only then did Valerie turn to face him.

“So those are my new orders?”

Damian met her gaze without flinching.

“They’re precautions.”

“They sound like orders.”

“They are necessary.”

A humorless laugh escaped her.

“Necessary for who?”

Damian’s expression remained unreadable.

“For the baby.”

Valerie stared at him for a long moment.

Then she folded her arms.

“I understand.”

Her voice was calm.

Too calm.

“You don’t have to remind me every five minutes.”

She looked him directly in the eyes.

“This isn’t just your precious Cavill heir.”

She rested a hand lightly over her stomach.

“It’s my baby too.”

“And believe me…”

A flicker of hurt crossed her face before disappearing.

“…I care a lot more about this child than you seem to think.”

Silence.

Neither of them looked away.

Finally, Damian reached into his jacket and removed a sleek black card.

He held it toward her.

“For the baby’s expenses.”

Valerie looked at it.

Then back at him.

A short laugh escaped her.

“You already gave me one.”

“I never used it.”

“The first was your allowance,” Damian replied evenly.

“This one is different.”

His hand never moved.

“My wife will not be seen wanting for anything.”

“Not now.”

“Not while carrying my child.”

“Take it.”

Valerie looked at the card again.

It wasn’t generosity.

It wasn’t affection.

It was responsibility.

She hesitated…

Then slowly took the card.

Not because she wanted it…

But because refusing it wouldn’t change anything.

Before Valerie could say another word…

Damian’s phone rang.

Damian frowned, pulling his phone from his pocket. He glanced down at the flashing caller ID.

Instantly, the rigid composure on his face vanished. The temperature around them didn’t just drop—it froze completely. His jaw clenched so tightly the bone structural lines of his face turned white, and his eyes flashed with a sudden, terrifyingly dark intensity.

For the first time since Valerie had met him…

She saw something that almost looked like shock.

He pressed the phone to his ear and answered.

“…Speak.”

Silence.

Whoever was on the other end spoke rapidly.

Damian didn’t interrupt.

He simply listened.

With every passing second, the air around him seemed to grow colder.

His eyes darkened.

When he finally spoke again, his voice had become dangerously quiet.

“I’m on my way.”

The call ended.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket without another glance at Valerie.

“I have to leave.”

Nothing more.

No explanation.

No apology.

He turned and walked toward the waiting car.

Within seconds, the engine roared to life.

Valerie stood where she was, watching the taillights disappear beyond the winding driveway until they vanished completely.

Only then did she release the breath she’d been holding.

She looked down at the black card still resting in her hand.

A husband.

A mansion.

A marriage.

Everything looked perfect.

Yet somehow…

She had never felt more alone.

She closed her fingers around the card and quietly walked back inside.

Because standing in the cold waiting for answers…

Wouldn’t make him come back.