A serene voice rang through the wedding venue, seizing everyone's attention. All eyes swung toward the entrance, where a woman in a champagne-colored elegant champagne gown made her grand entrance. Her beauty was almost surreal—soft waves of hair cascading down before being pinned up in an elegant twist, amplifying her magnetism.

That dress hugged her slender silhouette, cinching a waist so delicate it looked like a man's hands could easily circle it. Her porcelain skin radiated a luminous glow. As she drifted down the pristine white aisle, her red lips tilted into a smile, her eyes gleaming with captivating charm. She carried herself with such confidence and poise that every gaze in the room stayed glued to her.

The guests were floored. Her beauty was utterly arresting—even more so than that of the bride, Miranda Jenkins, standing on the stage.

Miranda's eyes went wide in disbelief. Adalee Morgan?! How the hell was she here? Hadn't her parents locked her in her room, scared she'd cause a scandal at the wedding? She'd instructed the staff to personally make sure Adalee stayed put. So how had she pulled off this escape?

Once the guests recovered from the initial shock, they recognized her as Adalee Morgan. A few socialites, catching their partners ogling Adalee with bare admiration, couldn't hide their jealousy and began to whisper.

"Can you believe the audacity of Miss Morgan, showing up here like this? Has she forgotten the scandal from three months ago? Getting herself knocked up after a night of debauchery!"

"Right? I heard she's out every night, hunting for male attention. And now that the unplanned pregnancy is out, she's permanently ruined!"

"She's brought so much shame to the Morgan family. If I had a daughter like that, I'd have sent her away at birth. What's the point in keeping her around?"

"Exactly. She acts all refined and pure, but she's nothing but a scheming seductress—a disgrace to all women. She doesn't belong in such a holy place!"

The Morgan family burned with embarrassment. Her father, Palmer Morgan, rose from his seat, fury radiating off him, and headed toward Adalee, who was calmly gliding down the aisle. In a flash, he grabbed her arm, steering her away. "Adalee, what are you doing here? Go home before you make things worse!"

Adalee resisted, her gaze unflinching and sure. "Dad, I can't leave. I'm here to find the father of my child."

Palmer froze, stunned. The thought that the man responsible for his daughter's condition might actually be present hit him like a freight train. "Adalee, are you saying the one who did this to you is in this room?"

Adalee nodded. "Yes."

Laughter exploded through the venue.

"Miss Morgan, you've got the wrong event. This is a wedding, not a bar!"

"Indeed, everyone here is from a reputable family, not the riffraff you'd find at a tavern."

"Don't try to pin your baby's daddy on anyone here. We're not around to clean up after you!"

"Exactly! We're far too respectable to be linked with someone like Miss Morgan, who sleeps around with strangers every chance she gets."

The Morgans were livid. As much as they were angry and disappointed in Adalee, they'd be damned before letting anyone trash a family member without consequence.

Adalee remained unfazed by the insults, a smile curling on her lips. "Father, I'm telling the truth. Three months ago, I was with Cruz Nichols. This child is his. If you don't believe me, we can do a paternity test."

Her composure left the crowd in stunned, dead silence—was she actually telling the truth?

Cruz Nichols kept his dark eyes pinned on Adalee, his expression inscrutable, his thoughts hidden behind a wall of mystery.

Miranda Jenkins, on the other hand, was frantic. She yanked a locket from her neck. "Sister, what are you talking about? I'm the one who was with Cruz! I even have the locket he gave me!"

Adalee gave the locket a glance and scoffed. "I gave you that locket, Miranda. Did you use it to pretend to be me and worm your way into Cruz's arms?"

Tears pooled in Miranda's eyes as she clutched Cruz's arm. "No, that's not true! Cruz, I swear, she's lying! You saw me when you woke up that morning!"

That night, after lacing Adalee's drink, Miranda had watched her wander into Cruz's room. The next morning, she intercepted Adalee as she left, still unaware of who she'd been with, and swiped the locket from her. Later, Miranda snuck back into Cruz's room, making him believe she'd been the one in his bed that night.

It had all gone according to plan. She'd succeeded—even managed to be the one Cruz would marry! But now Adalee was here, ready to shatter everything just as happiness was within her grasp. Miranda vowed she wouldn't let this chance slip away.

Miranda whimpered, sinking into Cruz's side. "Cruz, you know me. My sister has always been a troublemaker. She runs with shady people, parties all night! She's always been jealous of me—jealous that Mom and Dad favor me, jealous that you love me. Now she's trying to destroy my happiness!"

Miranda's tearful, vulnerable display stirred the guests' protective instincts, and they began murmuring in her defense.

The atmosphere in the grand hall was thick with tension as guests watched Miranda Jenkins cry like some delicate Cinderella. Adalee Morgan, in contrast, stood her ground, playing the villainous stepmother. The crowd, swayed more by emotion than logic, sided with Miranda, throwing silent daggers at Adalee. Even her own family backed Miranda—a girl with no blood ties to them—over their own daughter.

Adalee studied Miranda's tear-streaked face, feeling a twisted mix of admiration and irritation at her knack for winning hearts. But Miranda had it wrong if she thought Adalee was still that naive girl who'd let herself get trampled without a fight. Back then, Adalee had been stupid enough to buy every lie Miranda fed her.

Raising an eyebrow, Adalee spoke with cool confidence. "Miranda, do you seriously think everyone's gullible enough to swallow your little story?"

Miranda was left speechless, and the crowd fell into a hushed silence. Adalee pushed on. "If you claim you were with Cruz Nichols that night, tell me—how many times did he make love to you?"

Miranda hesitated, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Cruz himself watched, his eyes narrowing sharply. Adalee let out a soft chuckle. "See, Miranda, you obviously don't know Cruz at all. That night, he made love to me ten times! You think this baby bump just appeared out of thin air?"

The crowd erupted in whispers, disbelief coloring their faces. Ten times? Was that even humanly possible? Spending the whole night doing that? It was mind-boggling.

Cruz's eyes turned dark and intense. Miranda's cheeks burned with embarrassment and uncertainty. "I-I knew that," she stammered, scrambling to save face. "I told you myself."

Adalee smiled knowingly. "Really? Then tell us something else about Cruz."

Miranda was stumped. She had no idea if Cruz had any distinctive marks—she'd barely managed to hide under the covers that night before he woke up, so she hadn't gotten a chance to notice anything important.

Adalee's lips curled into a playful smirk. "Well, let me help you out—he has a birthmark on his backside!"

Gasps rippled through the room.

Cruz Nichols, the genius business tycoon, had a birthmark on his butt? The absurdity of it made some guests snicker behind their hands.

Cruz's expression darkened.

Miranda quickly blurted out, "I knew that too! I'm the one who told you about it!"

She smugly thought Adalee was still the same fool, airing such an embarrassing secret in public. In Miranda's mind, Cruz's pride would push him to unleash his fury on Adalee for humiliating him.

But while Miranda was internally gloating, Adalee burst into laughter, her brows arching with mischief. "There was no 'ten times' and no 'birthmark.' I made it all up—and you actually believed it!"

Miranda stood dumbstruck. Everyone else was equally stunned.

Meanwhile, Cruz's lips twitched ever so slightly, his gaze landing on Adalee with a newfound spark of intrigue.

Realizing she'd been played, Miranda's anger flared. "Sis, you've gone too far—joking about Cruz like that. Aren't you afraid he'll get angry and punish you?"

Adalee shrugged carelessly, patting her small baby bump. "Well, I'm carrying his child. If he wants to hurt the both of us, that's his call. But I believe Cruz, who clearly cherishes his child, will forgive me."

She shot a playful look at Cruz, her eyes twinkling. "Isn't that right, Cruz?"

Cruz's gaze settled on her belly, his eyes growing deeper. Could it be real? A life—his child—growing inside her? An unfamiliar emotion stirred in his chest, cracking his usual composed shell. Was Adalee truly the woman from that night? The mother of his unborn child?

Cruz swallowed hard as he stepped toward Adalee, but Miranda lunged forward, clinging to his arm. "Cruz, please don't trust her! My sister is unstable—she's always talking nonsense. I only played along to keep her from having a breakdown, but you have to believe me!"

Yet without a moment's hesitation, Cruz pulled his arm free from Miranda's grip. His cold gaze pierced through her like ice, laced with disdain. "Enough."

Miranda trembled, unable to meet the piercing stare of the man before her. The others in the hall sensed the shift in Cruz's attitude, suddenly wondering if Adalee's claims might actually hold some truth.

Cruz left Miranda standing on the stage and walked straight toward Adalee. A spotlight followed him, catching the quiet nobility in his stride. He looked like a figure lifted straight out of a Renaissance painting—all lean lines and aristocratic grace.

This man, desired by countless women, came to a stop beside Adalee.

Cruz stared at Adalee for a long moment. The hall was dead silent.

Finally he spoke, his voice low but clear enough for everyone to hear.

"I need a private word with both of you. Now."

He didn't wait for permission. He took Adalee's hand and led her, along with a pale-faced Miranda, into the side room just off the main hall. The heavy doors closed behind them.

Only then did he turn to Adalee, his dark eyes searching hers.

"Was it you that night?"

Though it sounded like a question, his tone carried certainty. The energy she gave off was hauntingly familiar.

Adalee tried to pull her hand back, but eventually relented with a firm nod. "Yes. It was me."

Cruz was quiet for several seconds. He interlaced their fingers, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I believe you."

He didn't need more proof. His gut told him she was the one from that night—and Miranda was nothing but a fraud.

Adalee blinked, caught off guard. She'd expected to have to convince him further.

Then he looked at Miranda, his expression turning cold.

"We're done here."

When they walked back out, Cruz's hand was still firmly around Adalee's. He stopped in front of the officiant and said, voice steady, "There's been a change. This is the woman I'm marrying today."

The entire Nichols family stared in disbelief.

Madeleine Nichols, Cruz's mother, frowned deeply. "Cruz, what do you mean? You can't seriously believe what she just said."

Cruz confirmed, "Yes. The man from three months ago was me, and the child she's carrying is mine."

The Nichols family sat in stunned silence. The Morgan family gaped.

Miranda's face went ghostly pale.

"I intended to marry Miranda out of responsibility because I thought she was the woman from that night. But now..." Cruz pulled Adalee closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. "My bride is changing."

Adalee felt the warmth of his palm against her hip, a jolt of electricity shooting through her body. Her mind went blank for a second. Her original plan was just to stop Miranda from marrying Cruz—not to get tangled up in a marriage herself.

But before she could react, Cruz was already guiding her onto the stage. She met Miranda's venomous glare, burning with jealousy. Smirking, Adalee leaned into Cruz's chest, feigning a happiness that only poured more fuel on Miranda's rage.

Cruz's lips curved into a barely-there smile as he felt Adalee nestle against him. Ignoring Miranda's tearful eyes, he lifted the bridal veil from Miranda's head and settled it onto Adalee's instead.

Adalee was stunned. Was a veil all it took to make someone a bride?

Cruz glanced at the dazed officiant, bypassing all formalities, and pulled out a ring, sliding it toward Adalee's finger.

On instinct, Adalee curled her fingers, resisting. As much as she was drawn to him, she hesitated to marry Cruz—a man who'd once been tangled up with Miranda.

Cruz's dark eyes deepened, his lips pressing together with a flicker of impatience.

But Adalee wasn't scared. She met his gaze head-on, defiance written all over her face. Yet, as she took in the man before her—with a physique that could rival any model and a face that was almost unfairly handsome—she reconsidered. Maybe marrying him wasn't such a bad deal after all.

With that thought, she straightened her fingers.

Cruz seized the moment and took her hand, sliding the ring onto her finger before she could overthink it again.

The gesture left her momentarily dizzy, but soon acceptance settled in. She'd thwarted Miranda, and she could use Cruz's status to protect her unborn child—a win-win.

Plus, for the sake of their baby, there wasn't much she wouldn't do. Adalee caught Miranda's envious stare from the sidelines and answered it with a serene smile, then turned a loving gaze up at Cruz.

The officiant finally pulled himself together and cleared his throat. "Ahem—may the groom and bride share a kiss!"

Adalee Morgan's tender expression shattered in a split second—kiss?! Cruz Nichols caught the shift from adoration to shock in her eyes, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Before she could bolt, he cradled her face in his hands, his jaw-droppingly handsome features closing in on hers.

Adalee's eyes went huge, her heart hammering as his cool, sculpted lips met her soft, cherry-red ones. The second their lips touched, a bolt of electricity shot through her. Her toes curled, her body locked up, and her hands dangled helplessly at her sides. Cruz caught the flush on her cheeks and her total lack of experience, a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he deepened the kiss.

The kiss stretched on, feeling like more than a minute. When he finally pulled back, Adalee's eyes were glazed. Cruz swept her away, leaving a room of confused guests and a heartbroken Miranda Jenkins in his wake.

Cruz carried Adalee into the hotel's bridal suite and set her down gently on the festive crimson bed. The second she hit the sheets, she snatched a blanket and rolled herself up like a burrito, still too flustered to meet his eyes after that kiss.

Cruz found it amusing. How could she get this flustered? Despite the rumors about her supposed wild side, this shy little act suggested she was anything but experienced. Her reaction to that kiss had been way too real to fake. She was soft and tempting, just like he remembered—a mouthwatering little treat.

Biting her lip, Adalee blinked those bright, spellbinding eyes, completely unaware of her own appeal. "Um, Mr. Nichols, can I ask you something?"

Cruz's voice dropped. "Call me ‘husband.'"

Adalee blushed harder. Newlyweds didn't do formal titles, right? After a beat of hesitation, she whispered, "Uh, hubby."

The soft, sweet sound of it did something weird to his heart. Cruz's gaze darkened, and he gave a small nod. "Mm. What's your question?"

His tone was easy, almost playful—obviously in a good mood. Relaxing a fraction, Adalee smiled and asked, "So, you agreed to marry me because you felt obligated? Not because of any feelings?"

Cruz paused. "...Yes."

That had been his original reasoning. He had no romantic ties, so marrying one person or another made no difference. His family was powerful enough that he didn't need a strategic alliance. If not for that one night of drinking and drugs, he never would have ended up with her—or made that promise. Besides, that night—his first—had left a lasting impression...

Adalee's eyes lit up at his answer. "So you don't have feelings for me. Does that mean we can keep things casual?"

Cruz's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Adalee explained brightly, "I mean we can be married on paper. We just put on a show in public, but we don't have to do any of the stuff real couples do!"

Cruz's handsome face inexplicably darkened several shades. "Such as?" he growled.

Such as? Adalee's ears suddenly burned. Her tongue fumbled. "Like holding hands, kissing, sharing a bed..."

Cruz locked his dark eyes on her. "I'm a normal man," he said, low and husky.

Adalee caught the implication instantly. She squeezed her thighs together without thinking and gave an awkward smile. "I—I get it. Everyone has needs, and you're young and healthy. Totally normal. I don't mind if you go see other women, really!"

Cruz's face went completely black. His brand-new wife was pushing him away on their wedding night—telling him to go find other women? He needed to know what was going on in that head of hers. Especially since she'd been nothing like this during the ceremony.

"Wildflowers aren't as sweet as the ones in your own garden," he murmured, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Then he bent down, bracing his hands on either side of her, his solid frame towering over her small body, his clean scent wrapping around her.

Staring up at him—a predator hiding behind a clean, suffocating facade—Adalee's face flamed again. She tried to scoot backward, but Cruz yanked her right back. Her hands landed on his hard chest. Little did she know, she was digging her own grave.

Cruz's body tensed instantly, his gaze dropping to her tempting lips. The memory of that kiss made his Adam's apple bob. Sensing where this was going, Adalee slapped a hand over her own mouth and shot him a defensive glare. "Mr. Nichols, no! I'm pregnant. It might upset the baby!"

Cruz froze, his lips twitching. The baby was only three months along—barely formed. What could possibly upset it? Did she really think he didn't know basic biology? Adalee knew how weak that sounded, but she had no choice but to double down. "Ahem... well, even at three months, the baby could still feel... discomfort..."

Cruz said nothing. Adalee's clear eyes went pleading. "Mr. Nichols, I'm pregnant… maybe we should wait."

Cruz's expression blackened. He glared at her for a solid three seconds, then shoved off the bed and stalked into the bathroom.

Letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, Adalee patted her tiny belly. "Baby, you're mommy's little lucky charm—sent the big bad wolf running!"

But this was only delaying the inevitable. She needed to have a real talk with Cruz. She didn't love him, and forcing a relationship would only make both of them miserable. Hopefully he'd understand. If nothing else, she still had the baby as a shield.

In the bathroom, Cruz hadn't truly planned to consummate anything with his pregnant wife. All he'd wanted was a little payback—her suggestion that he go find other women had lit a fire under his temper. But instead of getting the reaction he wanted, she'd just left him even more wound up. Thinking about his soft, endearing wife, Cruz's expression sobered. After a moment of consideration, he pulled out his phone to text a doctor friend.

He typed bluntly: *If a woman is three months pregnant, will having sex cause the baby any discomfort or developmental issues?*

He stared at the screen for a few seconds, then set the phone on the counter, turned the shower to cold, and stepped under the spray.