Carlos's brow furrowed, his gaze growing colder by the second. "Adele, do you have any idea what happens to people who try to threaten me?"

I could see he was angry—but I couldn't understand why. Shouldn't he be relieved that I was willing to divorce him and let him be with Leilani? Maybe he thought I was playing games again.

I pushed my feelings down and met his gaze, my expression calm. "If you have time, we can head to the courthouse first thing tomorrow and finalize the paperwork."

I thought I was offering him the most sincere compromise I could. Walking away from a man who would never love me was the best way to protect both me and the baby.

At my words, Carlos's eyes narrowed. He gripped my chin hard. His dark eyes were full of contempt, his voice edged with sarcasm. "Adele, you think too highly of yourself. You're nothing more than a pawn your family sold to mine. Whether you stay or go is up to me."

When I married Carlos, his family had paid mine a substantial marriage settlement, cementing a long-standing alliance between our families. I understood his unspoken threat. Without his family's support, mine would struggle to stay afloat.

His phone rang—probably Leilani, anxious for him to come back. Carlos shot me one last look, jaw tight, and walked out without a backward glance.

The storm was still raging when I stood at the hospital entrance, with no idea where to go. I breathed in deep and looked down at my belly. Don't worry, baby. No matter what, Mommy's going to bring you into this world safe and sound.

By the time the taxi dropped me at my parents' house, it was well past midnight, and the whole place was asleep. Mrs. Walker, the housekeeper, woke with a start and looked me up and down with thinly veiled disdain. "Adele, what brings you home at this hour?"

Too exhausted to explain, I just handed her my suitcase. "Go back to sleep," I whispered. "You can move it to my room in the morning."

I yawned and started for the stairs, but Mrs. Walker hurried to stop me. "Adele, Siena turned your room into an art studio for herself."

The words landed like a slap. We had plenty of spare rooms. Mrs. Walker's tone dripped with fake sympathy. "Don't be upset, Adele. You're a married woman now—who would've thought you'd show up with luggage in the middle of the night? If we set up a new room now, the noise will wake Mr. and Mrs. Tucker. Why don't you crash in my room for the night?"

I smiled to myself. She wouldn't dare treat me this way without Siena's blessing.

"No need," I said calmly, and headed for the living room couch instead.

Rain battered the windows all night. By dawn, it was my father who woke me.

"Adele, why are you sleeping on the sofa?" He frowned and turned on Mrs. Walker. "Why didn't you prepare a room for her?"

Caught under his stare, Mrs. Walker stammered out an excuse.

Siena's soft voice drifted down from the stairs. "It's not Mrs. Walker's fault, Dad. It's mine. I turned Adele's room into my art studio because it was convenient."

She hurried down, her face full of apology. "I didn't mean any harm, Adele. If you're planning to stay, just let me know. You're welcome to my room."

The irony almost made me laugh. This was my childhood home.

"I plan on staying for a while," I said evenly. "Please have my room restored."

Siena's smile flickered, but she agreed quickly.

Dad looked like he wanted to say something. I knew he was wondering why I'd shown up out of the blue. My troubled marriage to Carlos—and the baby growing inside me—were complications I wasn't ready to explain.

I took a steadying breath. "Dad, if I wanted to divorce Carlos, would you support me?"

He hesitated, worry etched into his face. "Adele, what's going on?"

I shook my head, and he didn't push. Instead, he handed me a cup of coffee, his voice tinged with regret. "Adele, we were wrong back then. If you're unhappy with the Richards, come home. Whatever you decide, I'll support you."

His words warmed something in my chest. After unpacking, I checked on my mother. Her anxiety usually kept her sleeping late. Standing outside her half-closed door, I heard her voice, sharp with irritation.

"If we hadn't adopted her, she never would've lived such a privileged life! Divorce? Does she have any sense of gratitude?"

My father sighed. "Adopted or not, we raised Adele as our own for twenty years. If she hadn't negotiated with Carlos's family back then, we would've gone bankrupt."

My mother's voice rose with indignation. "How is marrying into a wealthy family a sacrifice? It's a dream for plenty of women. Don't forget, Siena is our flesh and blood! After everything she endured out there before she came home last year, we owe it to her to make up for lost time!"

"I know we need to make it up to Siena, but Adele is clearly unhappy..." My father's voice trailed off as my mother cut him off. "Enough! We can't lose the Richards' support now. We raised her for twenty years—she can repay us this way!"

A heaviness settled over my chest. I was their adopted daughter; Siena, their biological daughter, had gone missing at three. I had been grateful to be loved by them, to receive the best care. But since Siena came back, everything had changed.

I didn't want to hear another word, so I left for the Richards' company. When I walked into my office, my assistant Helen brought me coffee, looking hesitant.

"Go ahead," I prompted. She'd been with me for years, ever since she'd followed me from my family's company.

"A new female design director's been appointed—apparently Carlos chose her himself," Helen said, putting pointed emphasis on female.

I froze, then connected the dots fast. "Was her name Leilani Olson?"

"Yes. Do you know her?" Helen's voice hinted at something more. "She seems innocent, but to get on Carlos's good side, she must be cunning."

Carlos had brought his mistress into the company. Only Leilani could make him act this openly. I lowered my gaze, hiding the smile tugging at my lips. "I see. You can go now."

Lack of sleep and a morning buried in paperwork had worn me down. After lunch, I found myself rushing to the restroom, fighting nausea.

"Are you all right?" someone at the sink asked, offering me a tissue. I took it and glanced up—into Leilani's face, pure as a daisy.

She’d spotted me. Her sharp eyes swept over me with something close to amused contempt.

“I’m Leilani. We met at the hospital last night.”

“Uh-huh,” I replied coolly, fixing my makeup and hair in the mirror.

Leilani had started the conversation, but I couldn’t get a read on her angle. Still, I’d heard enough warnings from other people to know she was no innocent.

After Carlos married me, he’d sent Leilani abroad to study. She’d supposedly accepted that the man she loved had chosen someone else—yet here she was, happily playing the other woman. I almost had to admire the audacity.

I gave her a dismissive once-over and turned to leave.

“I’m pregnant with Carlos’s child,” she announced proudly from behind me.

I whipped around. The innocence vanished from her face, replaced by a sinister smile. “Adele, you’ve been Mrs. Richards for three years. Now I’ve come back to claim what’s mine.”

For a second, the irony in her words knocked me off balance—and almost amused me.

Leilani had only returned last night. If she really was carrying Carlos’s child, then they’d never cut ties these past three years. Carlos’s last overseas trip had been two months ago. Somehow—absurdly—we were both pregnant by the same man at the same time.

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “From the sound of your voice, Miss Olson, you still haven’t grasped your position as the other woman. The child you’re carrying has a name—illegitimate.”

“Who are you calling the other woman?” Leilani’s cool façade cracked, and she jabbed a finger at me. “Adele, if you hadn’t interfered, Carlos would have married me! I’m the one who should have been Mrs. Richards. You took it all from me!”

“Do you honestly believe that if I hadn’t been in the picture, Carlos would have married you?” I asked calmly, aiming straight for the soft spot. “Do you think his grandfather would let a maid’s daughter into the family—especially when that maid is serving time for theft?”

Because I loved Carlos, I’d dug up every detail of Leilani’s past.

Leilani’s mother, Jenna Olson, had been the housekeeper for Carlos’s family for twenty years. Carlos’s mother had died young, and he’d been deeply attached to Jenna—and, by extension, to Leilani, who’d grown up alongside him. Five years ago, Jenna was caught stealing a family heirloom and sentenced to ten years in prison.

Leilani clearly hadn’t expected me to drag her family’s disgrace into the open. Her eyes blazed with fury.

“You witch!” she shrieked, her hands clawing at me.

I wasn’t about to stand there and take it. Instinct kicked in, and I sidestepped. But Leilani was relentless. She pivoted and lunged straight at my stomach.

There was no time to dodge. Every instinct in me screamed to protect the life inside me. Without thinking, I threw all my strength into shoving her away.

She hit the floor with a scream, clutching her stomach and wailing, “The baby... my baby...”

Her screams cut through the room. Panic spread as a red stain bloomed beneath her. Two female coworkers rushed in, screaming.

It didn’t take long for Carlos to burst in, his face dark and terrifying. He scooped Leilani up and cradled her against his chest.

“Carlos, save our baby...” Leilani pleaded. Her face was pale, sweat beading on her forehead, her voice pitiful.

“Don’t worry. The ambulance is on its way,” Carlos said, but I could hear the fear underneath.

Then Carlos turned his fury on me. His glare pinned me in place like a rabbit frozen under a predator’s stare.

I stood frozen, not sure how to explain myself. What could I possibly say that he would believe?

The ambulance arrived quickly, and Carlos left with Leilani.

In an instant, I became the office pariah, exposed to everyone’s stares. To escape the whispers, I left work early and went home.

When I got home, my father called me into his study.

“Adele, the company’s in trouble. Could you lend us three million?” he pleaded.

“I don’t have that kind of money,” I said with a bitter smile. Every cent of the marriage settlement from the Richards family had already gone to my family.

“Could you ask Carlos?” My father paced nervously, explaining there’d been an accident at a construction site and they urgently needed money for compensation. “Please, Adele. Help the family get through this.”

Faced with his desperation, I couldn’t say no.

But I didn’t dare ask Carlos. I knew he wouldn’t lend me a penny. After going back and forth, I decided to visit his grandfather at the family estate instead.

Mr. Richards Sr. was kind. As his grandson’s wife, maybe I could get the money if I was persistent enough.

The butler led me into the grand living room. Carlos, in a crisp white shirt, stood out against the black leather sofa.

I hadn’t expected him to be here—I assumed he’d be at the hospital with Leilani.

“Adele, why are you so late?” Grandpa greeted me warmly, his eyes bright with hope. “Carlos told me you two are planning for a child. Wonderful! But you’re too thin. You need to eat more and get healthy.”

Carlos had told him we were planning a child? And how did he know I’d come to see his grandfather?

Stunned, I looked to Carlos for answers. His gaze met mine, unreadable, giving nothing away. I had no idea what he was really playing at.

“Let’s start dinner,” Carlos told the staff, his tone indifferent.

Dinner was extravagant. Grandpa insisted I finish two bowls of chicken soup for my health. Afterward, he kept me in friendly conversation.

I wanted to bring up the loan, but I couldn’t find the right moment.

“Grandpa, it’s getting late. We should go,” Carlos said as eight o’clock approached, signaling it was time to leave.

In the car, I sat in silence. The air between us was cold and suffocating.

I couldn’t help myself. “How is Leilani?”

I meant no harm. It had been self-defense, after all.

Carlos slammed on the brakes. The car lurched to a stop in the middle of the road, and my body jolted forward.

Startled, I instinctively wrapped my arms around my belly.

At the same time, Carlos grabbed my collar and roughly pinned me against the seat. His face was a storm—eyes dark and turbulent, voice cold and dangerous. “You have no right to speak her name!”

My heart shuddered, my ears ringing. After the sting of heartbreak, self-mockery almost felt comical.

I looked at him, a faint, humorless smile on my lips. “If she’s so important, shouldn’t you be at her side in the hospital? Coming back to the estate—were you afraid I’d report to your grandfather? Seems Leilani’s place in your heart isn’t as secure as she thought.”

My taunt didn’t provoke him. Whether I’d hit a nerve or he was simply coldhearted, I couldn’t tell.

He ignored me, straightened, and resumed driving.

Soon we arrived at the estate. Carlos got out without another glance.

After a beat of hesitation, I followed him inside.

The familiar scent of our shared home filled the air. Everything looked untouched, with no sign of Leilani. Foolishly, I hoped Carlos hadn’t brought her here.

While I was distracted, Carlos came out of the bathroom, water droplets clinging to his hair. He wore a loosely tied white robe, his muscles taut beneath the fabric—sculpted and distracting.

Maybe he felt my gaze, because his brows drew together slightly. “Need help with the shower?”

Realizing what was happening, I slipped into the bathroom without a word. When I came out, a towel wrapped around me, the bedroom was already dark.

A strong arm yanked me onto the bed. Carlos Richards narrowed his eyes and leaned over me, studying me for a long moment. His lips curved into a slight smirk. “You wanted a divorce, didn’t you? Do as I say, and I’ll give you one.”

“What do you want from me?” I asked, thinking back to the conversation I’d overheard between him and his grandfather.

A child. Carlos wanted me to have his child.

“Leilani’s child…?” My voice trembled as I remembered the blood from when she fell.

“This is what you owe her. You’ll make it right,” he said coldly, his gaze flat. “Once we have a child, the Richards family won’t come after you or the Tuckers anymore. Adele, it’s a good deal for you.”

He said it so casually.

Leilani had lost her child, and Carlos wanted mine as a replacement. My heart clenched as the question I’d buried deep inside finally got its answer.

In some twisted way, I was almost grateful Carlos didn’t know I was pregnant.

“You really think I’d agree to something so shameless?” I was shaking with anger, trying to push him off. My child would not become a bargaining chip.

Carlos let out a cold laugh, mockery threading through his voice. “Adele, don’t flatter yourself. And don’t think you can provoke me.”

He ripped the towel away, his kisses coming down hard, his body heat rising. Over the past three years, I’d gotten used to his temper when he was angry.

I loved Carlos Richards. No matter how rough he was, my body responded on instinct.

How ridiculous—loving someone who didn’t love me back, burning myself down to ashes.

But this time, I had a child to protect.

“Please… be gentle,” I whispered.

He paused, a half-smile on his lips, the desire in his eyes sharpening.

Carlos snorted and kept going, ruthless. The pain made me bite my lip, but I didn’t dare tell him about the baby.

An hour later, satisfied, he got up to get dressed.

“Where are you going this late?” I asked instinctively, even though I already knew.

Leilani was still in the hospital after her miscarriage, and Carlos couldn’t rest easy leaving her side. He’d only come home to carry out his surrogacy plan.

Carlos glanced at me, lust replaced by cold indifference and impatience. “Where I go is none of your business.”

With that, he strode out of the bedroom.

I lay there feeling utterly defeated.

My marriage to Carlos was in name only. I had the title of his wife, but I was someone he despised.

I gently touched my abdomen and whispered in my heart: Baby, thank God I have you with me.

The next morning, my mother called, frantic.

“Adele, please, you have to help your father!” she cried, her voice shaking. “Because of the construction accident, the police took your father, and the workers’ families are outside demanding money!”

“Mom, don’t worry. I’m on my way!”

I drove straight back to the Tucker residence.

Outside the house gates, a dozen people dressed like construction workers had gathered. They were holding signs that read, “A life for a life. Pay your debts.”

With help from security, I managed to drive inside.

In the living room, my mother and Siena sat on the sofa, both visibly distressed.

“Mom, what’s going on?” I asked, walking over.

Her eyes were red as she explained, “The families of the deceased are being unreasonable. They want us to pay, and they’re demanding your father attend the memorial and apologize publicly. Things escalated, and they called the police to arrest him…”

“Adele, don’t you have money? You should pay them and get Dad out of jail!” Siena said casually.

My mother grabbed my hand tight. “Yes! I remember your father said you promised to help with this. Did you bring the money, Adele?”

I looked down and said quietly, “Mom, I don’t have that much money right now…”

Before I could finish, my mother shoved my hand away, her voice rising in anger. “What?! You’re just going to stand there and do nothing? Adele, your father raised you all these years, and this is how you repay him? You ungrateful girl!”

She burst into loud sobs. Siena handed her a tissue and added mockingly, “Adele, don’t forget where you came from. Even if you’re not their biological daughter, Mom and Dad raised you for over twenty years. What’s a little money to you? Are you really going to let Dad go to jail?”

Their accusations—and the memory of my mother’s past love and care—pulled at my heart.

I swallowed my despair and spoke calmly. “Don’t worry. I won’t let Dad go to jail.”

I stepped out and headed straight for the Tucker Group.

With the company caught in scandal and the chairman in custody, anxiety ran high among the employees.

I found our legal advisor and told him to get my father out on bail as soon as possible. Then I went to finance and asked the CFO, “Mr. Smith, how much money is left in the company accounts?”

“Adele, the company is out of money,” Mr. Smith, a longtime Tucker Group employee, sighed. He explained that my father had poured all available cash into the current project, sure it would succeed.

I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. The financial statements in front of me only made my dread worse.

“What about other projects? Can we speed up any payments?” I asked.

Mr. Smith perked up and pulled up a document on the computer. “Imperial Media still owes us fifty thousand in outstanding payments. They’ve been stalling with excuses not to pay!”

Fifty thousand.

At least that could calm the families for now and buy us time to gather the rest of the money.

The person handling our account at Imperial Media was a vice president named Victor Williams.

I dialed his number. He picked up fast. “Who is this?”

I introduced myself and got straight to the point. “Mr. Williams, my father is in a tough spot and needs funds urgently. We sincerely hope your company can settle the outstanding payment of fifty thousand right away.”

It was hard to tell if he heard me over the loud music. He burped and slurred an address. “Saul Tucker’s daughter, huh? Meet me at the Palace Nightclub, Room Three, if you want to talk.”

After I hung up, I drove straight to the nightclub.

In Room Three, I found Victor Williams surrounded by equally drunk men and heavily made-up women, all singing loudly, oblivious to everyone.

The room was thick with smoke and littered with empty bottles, making it hard to find a clear path.

“Mr. Williams, I’m Adele—the one who called earlier,” I said politely after weaving through the crowd to reach him. “Could we step outside for a moment to discuss the payment?”

“What’s there to discuss? You want money, right? Fine. Down this bottle,” he sneered, slamming a beer onto the table.

I rarely drank, and now that I was pregnant, I couldn’t start.

My anger simmered under the surface, but I forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t drink.”

“Don’t drink? Then I’m sure you can entertain us, right?” Victor leered, his hand brushing my thigh. He reeked of alcohol. “If you make us happy, I’ll not only settle the payment—I might even throw in a little extra.”

His hand moved to grab me.

Just because I spoke politely didn’t mean I was a pushover.

CRASH!

I grabbed a beer bottle off the table and brought it down on his head with a resounding crack.