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.

“Ah!” Victor Williams yelped, clutching his head and jabbing a finger at me. “You crazy bitch...”

“Watch your mouth,” I snapped, snatching a shard of glass off the table and pressing it to his throat. “You owe money, and you’re still acting all high and mighty? Let me make one thing clear: you’re paying what you owe—plus interest. Call your finance team and have them transfer the money. Now.”

The women he’d hired to entertain him screamed and scrambled out, leaving chaos in their wake.

I was so blinded by rage—so focused on teaching Victor a lesson and getting my money—that I forgot about his other companions.

Just as Victor fumbled out his phone, a hand fisted in my hair from behind.

The yank hauled me backward, and I gasped as pain shot across my scalp.

Victor caught his breath and slapped me hard across the face.

“You pull this stunt on me? You’ve got a death wish!”

One slap wasn’t enough for him. He raised his hand to strike me again.

I squeezed my eyes shut on instinct, but the blow never landed. Instead, Victor’s sneer cut through the silence. “Didn’t expect Saul Tucker’s daughter to be such a looker.”

I opened my eyes and found Victor’s cold, malicious stare locked on me. He smirked. “Strip her.”

“Let go of me!” Panic ripped through my voice. “I’m Carlos Richards’ wife. If you lay a finger on me, the Richards family will make you pay!”

In this city, the Richards name carried weight. I prayed it would make them think twice.

But liquor had made these old men reckless. My warning didn’t scare them.

The man holding my hair scoffed. “Carlos Richards? Ha! If your husband were that powerful, would he let you come to a club alone to collect debts?”

I could only watch as Victor reached for me.

Despair sank its claws in. I had no way out.

“Bang!” The door burst open, light slicing in from the hall.

Security guards in black suits stormed in and took control of the room—Victor included.

Carlos Richards stepped inside, his strides long and steady, until he stood before me.

His chiseled face was cold and unreadable. His dark eyes narrowed slightly as he fixed that inscrutable stare on me.

“Our mistake put Mrs. Richards at risk!” the manager stammered from the doorway, stiff with fear.

“Risk?” Carlos repeated, mockery sharpening the word as his icy gaze swept over my bruised face.

The spot where Victor had hit me still throbbed with a sharp, hot pain.

“Are you suggesting my wife deserved to be hit?” Carlos asked coldly.

The room seemed to drop ten degrees.

The manager ducked his head, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry! That’s not what I meant!”

Then he rushed at Victor and slapped him hard, again and again.

Victor reeled, too stunned to speak.

Carlos didn’t tell him to stop, and the manager didn’t dare. Victor’s face swelled and reddened fast.

Carlos glanced at me. “Come with me.”

Without a word, I followed him out of the club.

His Bentley SUV waited at the curb.

Once we were in the car, I wanted to explain, but I realized he probably didn’t care about my side of things.

In the end, I just muttered, “Thanks.”

Carlos stayed as aloof as ever, ignoring my thanks completely. His face was a mask of ice as he drove.

Since he clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk, I wisely kept quiet.

Maybe it was the pregnancy, but I dozed off against the window.

I woke with a start when the car stopped.

I thought we were home, but Carlos had driven me to the hospital instead.

A knot of worry tightened in my stomach. What was he planning?

Was I supposed to apologize to Leilani in person? Or was this some kind of prenatal checkup?

“Why are we at the hospital this late?” I asked nervously, staying put.

Carlos shot me an impatient look. “Get out of the car.”

In the treatment room, the doctor examined my face, handed me an ice pack, and told me to keep it on for thirty minutes before I could leave.

I glanced at Carlos, standing apart and aloof. For a split second, he didn’t seem completely cold toward me.

Then the illusion shattered. He caught my gaze and said coolly, “This won’t go public. Don’t show your face until you’ve healed.”

Right. I was his wife in name only—the public face of the Richards family. My behavior affected the family’s reputation. Carlos had brought me here for damage control.

I nodded, accepting his terms.

Thirty minutes wasn’t long, but I cherished every moment alone with him.

Carlos stood by the window, tall and composed, staring into the night, his gaze deep and thoughtful.

I watched his handsome profile, and old memories came flooding back.

“Carlos, why didn’t you tell me you were coming to the hospital?” A soft female voice cut through my thoughts.

I snapped back to reality. Leilani Olson was walking into the room in hospital clothes. The second she saw me, her expression changed.

“Adele, why are you here? Give me back my child!” she screamed, lunging for my collar, her face twisted with rage.

I was a mother now, too. I could feel her grief.

I didn’t fight her off. I just looked at her with quiet regret. “I’m so sorry.”

Leilani’s loss wasn’t my fault, but I couldn’t bring myself to be harsh with a grieving mother.

Carlos came over and gently pulled her into his arms, soothing her in a tender voice. “You haven’t recovered yet. Don’t upset yourself. I’ll take you back to your room.”

Leilani looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. “Carlos, our baby died because of her. You promised you’d avenge him!”

Carlos stroked her hair, his voice soft enough to melt. “Yes, I promised, and I will. Come on. Let’s get you back to your room.”

His words from that night came rushing back—how he meant to compensate her with our child. My heart ached like it had been pierced with needles.

I’d told myself he’d only said it in anger, that he hadn’t meant it.

I bit my lip and lifted my gaze to glare at Carlos. “I didn’t hurt her! She provoked me that day. She came at me first!”

Whether he believed me or not, I had to tell him the truth.

“Carlos, I didn’t. She’s lying. She’s wanted me gone from the start!” Leilani shot back, her voice desperate.

I looked her dead in the eye. “Leilani, do I need to repeat what you said to me that day?”

“Shut up!” Carlos thundered, cutting me off. His eyes went icy. “Get out!”

Of course. He would never believe me.

Leilani nestled against Carlos’s chest, sobbing.

Seeing his anger at me, she even flashed a sly, triumphant smirk.

She played her part perfectly—tear-streaked face and all, enough to tug at anyone’s heartstrings.

Carlos cradled fragile Leilani and left the room.

I watched them disappear. My nose stung, and the tears I’d been holding back fell before I could stop them.

Why was Leilani allowed to take refuge in Carlos’s arms when she was sad, while I carried his child and still had no right to even be acknowledged as a mother?

The next morning, Mr. Smith called to tell me Victor Williams had wired roughly $120,000 into the company account and was begging for forgiveness. That was the cost of crossing Carlos Richards—and it did Victor no good. Carlos wasn’t the forgiving type.

Mr. Smith sounded thrilled and sang my praises. I gave a wry smile and let it go, then took the money straight to the police station and posted bail for my father.

After just two days, my father looked worn down to the bone.

“Adele, you have to keep the Tucker Group alive,” he begged. “It’s my life’s work.”

“Dad, go home and get some rest. I’ll take care of the rest,” I said with a gentle smile, then told the driver to take him home.

As the car disappeared from view, I let out a deep breath. I’d just paid $15,000 for bail. The rest of the money, plus my savings, came to about $150,000—and every cent of it went to the victims’ families.

But I was still $300,000 short. How the hell was I supposed to cover that?

My phone rang. Carlos’s name flashed across the screen. “Come to my office. Now.” His voice was cold and detached, and he hung up before I could answer.

I checked the time. The workday was almost over. What could Carlos want at this hour?

After we married, I’d joined the Richards Group. Carlos wasn’t just my husband—he was my boss. Defying his orders wasn’t an option, so I drove straight back to the company.

The CEO’s office was empty. Carlos was nowhere in sight, but the sharp smell of whiskey hung in the air.

I had a hunch and knocked on the door of the adjoining suite—his private lounge.

A moment later, the door opened.

Carlos leaned against the doorframe, tall and imposing. His dark, unreadable eyes fixed on me, and the whiskey scent clung to him, thick and heavy.

“Have you been drinking?” I asked, startled.

Carlos could usually hold his liquor. Yet here he was, clearly drunk in his office. I couldn’t imagine how much he’d had.

He didn’t speak. He just stared at me—then pulled me inside, his grip firm.

“Carlos, what’s going on?” I’d never seen alcohol make him lose control like this. My surprise gave way to worry. “Did something happen?”

His arms came around me tight, his chin resting on top of my head. “Do you regret it?” His voice was rough.

“Regret what?” I asked, confused.

Carlos didn’t answer. He went silent—then I felt the slow drag of my zipper.

His breath turned heavy against my skin.

Then he lifted me like I weighed nothing and laid me down on the bed.

His kisses were gentle, almost reverent—a softness I rarely got from Carlos.

“Carlos…” Heat climbed into my cheeks.

I knew he was worked up—maybe from the alcohol, maybe because Leilani was still recovering and couldn’t satisfy him.

One thing was clear: it wasn’t because of me.

Maybe, in his drunken haze, he thought I was Leilani.

The thought made my stomach twist.

I couldn’t help myself. “Carlos, do you know who I am?”

“Hmm.” His head stayed down, his answer muffled.

“Tell me. Who am I?” I pressed, cupping his face in both hands, trying to make him really look at me.

His eyes were dark and deep, and in them I saw my own reflection.

His lips parted. He was about to speak.

Then Leilani’s voice drifted in from outside. “Carlos? Are you in there?”

Carlos jerked like he’d been shocked awake. The haze in his eyes vanished.

He stood and straightened his clothes, hesitating, something like pain flickering in his eyes.

“Stay here.” His voice was low—an order. Then he left the room.

The door opened and shut in a heartbeat.

I didn’t catch a glimpse of Leilani outside, and she had no way of knowing I was in here.

That was exactly how Carlos wanted it.

I sank back onto the bed with a bitter smile. I was his wife—his legal wife—and yet here I was, hidden away in a dark room like some shameful secret.

Outside, Leilani’s voice trembled with hurt. “Carlos, I don’t want to stay in the hospital anymore. Can you take me home?”

“Be patient. You can’t leave until the doctor clears you,” Carlos said, his tone gentle.

“Why have you been drinking? Is it me? Did I make you unhappy? Tell me what I did wrong, and I’ll fix it…” Leilani’s voice started to shake.

Carlos sounded exhausted, but he kept comforting her anyway. “Leilani, don’t overthink this.”

Leilani sniffled, then asked softly, almost pleading, “When I’m discharged, will you take me home and let me move into your room?”

I was surprised. Since she’d come back to the country, they hadn’t been sharing a room?

Carlos didn’t agree. He didn’t disagree, either. “Let’s get you back to the hospital.”

Their footsteps faded down the hall.

I stayed frozen for a moment, then got up to dress and leave.

The door wouldn’t budge. It had been locked from the outside.

After a few tries, I thought about texting Carlos to have someone unlock it.

But when I reached for my phone, I realized it was dead. I’d forgotten to charge it last night.

I searched the suite for a charger—anything I could use to reach someone—but found nothing.

Was I really stuck here all night?

Would Carlos come back?

Right. With Leilani trailing him to the office, there was no way he’d come back easily.

At least the suite had the basics. I could survive one night.

I went to the bathroom to shower. I was about to dry my hair when the power cut out.

I remembered then: the building cut power at 10 p.m. every night unless there was a special request. Security had no idea I was still inside, so they’d flipped the main switch.

It was winter. Without heat, the room went cold fast.

I threw my clothes back on and wrapped myself in a blanket, but the cold seeped right through. I shivered.

Soon I was sneezing.

Damn it. If I spent the night here, I’d end up sick.

I thought of the baby growing inside me, and panic spiked. I stumbled to the door and pounded on it, hoping to catch a patrolling guard.

“Is anyone out there?” I shouted, desperate.

For a while, no one came to help. Then a dull ache started throbbing low in my belly.

Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I couldn’t keep banging on the door. I had to save my strength until morning.

I struggled toward the bed—and a sharp, blinding pain ripped through my abdomen.

The agony dropped me to my knees with a thud.

A warm rush spilled beneath me. Trembling, I looked down. Blood was trickling down my thighs.