“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.

Despair washed over me as I remembered leaving the hospital that day, swearing I’d take care of my child. But now...

Baby, it looks like I can’t keep that promise—and God, I don’t want to lose you. I haven’t even seen your face yet or heard you call me “Mom”...

I was cold. In pain. My consciousness began to slip.

The door banged open. I barely managed to lift my eyelids and recognized Carlos Richards’s familiar face.

I tried to move my dry lips. “Carlos...” I whispered.

Dizziness swamped me. I couldn’t tell if he was real or a hallucination. It was the middle of the night—he had no reason to be back at this hour.

Carlos scooped me up fast. His warmth wrapped around me, his heartbeat thundering against my ear.

Carlos, are you scared? Why?

“Stay awake, Adele! Don’t fall asleep!” His voice was a sharp command.

My eyelids felt like lead. I fought to keep them open, but the darkness pulled me under.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. The second my thoughts cleared, my hand flew to my belly.

“Don’t worry—the baby’s fine,” a voice said. I realized I wasn’t alone.

I turned my head. My mother was sitting beside me, worry etched into her face. But there was anger there, too. “How could you hide something as huge as a pregnancy from your father and me?”

“Mom, I’m sorry.” I didn’t know how to explain.

She sighed, her tone softening. “Since you’re pregnant, focus on taking care of yourself. You know how much this child means. If you can have the baby safely, your life will be so much easier.”

A weight pressed down on my chest. To my mother, my child was nothing more than a bargaining chip.

When she finished, I looked at her and said quietly, “Mom, I’m going to have the baby and raise him myself.”

“What do you mean?” My mother’s eyes went wide with shock, her voice climbing. “You’re thinking about divorcing Carlos because Leilani’s back? How did I end up with such a thankless daughter? Another woman wants your husband, and you’re just going to let her have him?”

Hearing her call me “daughter” was bitterly ironic. Maybe, before Leilani came back, she really had thought of me as her child.

She had no idea that Leilani didn’t just want to take Carlos—she wanted my child too. I couldn’t let that happen.

“I’ve made up my mind,” I said stubbornly, unwilling to argue anymore. “Mom, thank you for everything. Go home and rest.”

My defiance seemed to set her off. She shot to her feet, seething. “Adele, I always said you were ungrateful! Your father cared so much for you, and now that the Richards family finally agreed to a settlement of $300,000? If that deal falls through, you and I are going to have a reckoning!”

Her words cut deep. No wonder she was here in the hospital—it was all about the Richards family’s money.

After dropping her ultimatum, she stormed out, her heels clicking sharply down the hall.

I curled up under the covers, tears sliding silently down my face. Exhaustion finally dragged me into a restless sleep.

When I woke again, night had fallen. Thirst pushed me out of bed for water, but I stopped when I heard voices outside the room.

“Mr. Richards, this is the surveillance footage from your office. It confirms Miss Olson was the one who locked the door from the outside,” said Ethan Johnson, Carlos’s chief assistant.

“I see,” Carlos said, his tone cold and detached.

The glass slipped from my hand and shattered loudly on the floor. Everyone outside jumped.

Carlos rushed in, crossing the room to my side in a few swift strides.

He glanced at the broken shards, then calmly lifted me back into bed. He went back to the table, poured a glass of warm water, and handed it to me, his voice steady. “Drink.”

I didn’t take the glass. I just stared at him, disbelieving, Ethan’s words echoing in my head. Last night, Leilani knew I was in the lounge. She had locked that door on purpose before leaving. If Carlos hadn’t come back, my child and I might not have survived.

Leilani had nearly destroyed us, yet Carlos seemed unfazed. Why?

The child I was carrying was his flesh and blood too.

Carlos met my gaze without flinching. Then he sat beside me, lifted me up a little, and offered the water again.

“Are you hungry? What do you want to eat? I can have something brought over.” His unexpected concern felt almost like mockery.

It was all for the child, wasn’t it?

“At least give the child the truth—don’t you think?” My throat was painfully dry. My voice came out as a raspy whisper, so rough I barely recognized it.

He could ignore my well-being, but the child was innocent.

Carlos’s brow furrowed slightly. “Leilani didn’t know you were pregnant,” he said in a low voice. “She was just acting on impulse.”

What a pitiful excuse. When a man chooses a woman’s side, no matter what she does, he’ll go to any length to protect her.

I lowered my gaze. “Carlos, let’s get a divorce.” It was the second time I’d formally asked him.

I almost begged. “I don’t want any of the Richards’ assets. Just let me and the child go. You and Leilani are still young. If you want children, you can have more...”

Before I could finish, pain shot through my wrist.

“Adele!” Carlos snapped, his dark eyes icy. “You’re carrying my child.”

His gaze grew more complicated, unreadable—just like I’d never managed to find a way into his heart.

I was stunned for a moment, then laughed bitterly. “So what? Are you still thinking about giving the child to Leilani?”

I said it deliberately, to remind him. Leilani hated me. She would never treat my child kindly.

I was willing to sacrifice everything—even not pressing charges against Leilani—as long as I could keep my child.

“You have no right to bring up divorce,” he sneered, his grip tightening on my wrist. His lips brushed my ear as he mocked, “Three years ago, I gave you the chance to leave. Now it’s too late.”