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.”

The door swung open like the man owned the place, and Mr. Richards Sr. strode in. “What are you doing perched up there, Carlos? Adele needs room and rest. A pregnant woman needs space to breathe. Get up!” He surveyed the cramped hospital room with a scowl, his displeasure plain. “Why is this room so small? Where are the amenities? Carlos, go find the hospital director and make sure Adele gets the best room in this place!”

Carlos shot me a loaded look before slipping out.

Mr. Richards Sr. lowered himself into the armchair beside my bed, his expression softening. “Adele, your priority now is taking care of yourself and the baby. As for your father's company, I've already told the finance team to release the funds.”

“Thank you, Grandpa,” I said respectfully. “I'll find a way to repay you soon.”

With my father's predicament settled, I could finally relax.

Mr. Richards Sr. chuckled. His sharp eyes lingered on me for a moment, a hint of amusement in them. “No need to be so formal—we're family. Consider it a gift for my future great-grandchild.”

There was more than one meaning behind those words.

If I ever considered divorcing Carlos or leaving with the child, this so-called “gift” would quickly turn into a bargaining chip.

I pressed my lips into a thin line, unsure how to respond.

He handed me a mug of coffee, his tone kind but brooking no argument. “Adele, I know you're a good person and you've been through a lot. Rest assured, as long as I'm around, that woman Olson will never be part of the Richards family. Once you have the baby, Carlos will see your true worth.”

Divorce would need careful thinking.

I nodded slightly and took a slow sip of coffee.

Within an hour, I'd been moved to a VIP suite on the top floor.

At his grandfather's insistence, Carlos stayed at the hospital to have dinner with me.

The meal—crafted by a Michelin-star chef at Mr. Richards Sr.'s request—was extravagant, but I had little appetite.

I picked at my spiced honey cake without really tasting it, while Carlos let his pulled pork sit untouched. He sat on the black leather sofa, focused on his iPad, handling business with that cool, unreadable demeanor.

I didn't dare disturb him, but then my phone rang—it was my father.

“Adele, how are you?” His concern was obvious.

Since his release, he'd been dealing with a high fever, which made hospital visits difficult.

“I'm fine, Dad.” I glanced at Carlos, relieved when he didn't look up, and kept my voice low as I talked to my father.

“Adele, have you been arguing with your mother? She's got a sharp tongue, but don't take it to heart,” he sighed, his tone sincere. “She cares about you. Remember, after all, we raised you ourselves.”

Nurture over nature.

I understood that well. So despite my mother's harsh words, I refused to hold them against her.

I forced a smile. “I know, Dad. Please take care of yourself.”

After I hung up, I saw that Carlos had finished his work. His eyes were closed, as if he was resting.

I gazed at his chiseled profile, perfectly sculpted.

Rich and handsome, Carlos Richards had always been the golden boy everyone talked about.

As if he felt my gaze, he slowly opened his eyes. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“In the future, call me directly if you need anything. No need to bother Grandpa,” he said coolly.

Did he think I was playing games?

Instinctively, I explained, “I didn't ask him to keep you here today. If you have other plans, feel free to leave.”

Carlos lifted his gaze and gave me a brief glance. “I'll leave once you're asleep.”

His unexpected kindness stunned me for a moment—like a dream.

Could he be looking forward to this child as much as I was?

I remembered the moment I fainted in the lounge, when Carlos had come to my rescue.

Unable to resist, I asked, “Why did you come back to the office that day?”

“Finish your meal and rest,” Carlos said, dodging the question.

He turned back to his tablet, immersed in his work. The demands of running the Richards Group never ceased.

Feeling a little deflated, I curled up on the bed, my eyes lingering on his handsome profile. Surprisingly, his presence comforted me.

I couldn't recall when I fell asleep, but sunlight greeted me when I woke.

I anxiously looked at the sofa where he had been—empty.

What was I expecting? That Carlos would stay by my side all night?

After breakfast, a doctor in a white coat and mask entered for rounds.

He approached my bedside but, instead of asking the usual questions, studied me intently.

His gaze made me uncomfortable. “Doctor, is there something you wish to discuss?”

“You don't recognize me, Adele?” He sighed, pulling down his mask to reveal a youthful, cheerful face.

It was Tyler Daniels!

“Tyler! When did you return?” My surprise quickly turned to joy.

The Daniels and Tucker families had been close for years, and Tyler and I had grown up as childhood friends.

I'd always loved tagging along with him, and he'd treated me like a cherished younger sister.

Tyler had pursued a career in medicine, continuing his studies overseas after graduating. The last time I'd seen him was at my wedding to Carlos three years ago.

His clear eyes met mine, a gentle smile on his face. “Just got back. Today's my first day here. I heard you're expecting.”

“What a coincidence! Does this mean you'll be in charge of all my check-ups now?” I joked lightly.

Tyler laughed, ruffling my hair affectionately. “Of course. I'll make sure you and the baby stay healthy.” His tone turned serious as he asked softly, “Has Carlos treated you well these past three years?”

I hesitated, unsure of what to say.

I wasn't great at bending the truth.

Knowing me well, Tyler didn't push further. He simply reassured me, “When you feel you don't love him anymore, don't hesitate to kick him to the curb. I'll look after you and the baby!”

His words made me burst into laughter.

“Come on, I can take care of myself! You should be worrying about your own love life!”

Tyler remained single, much to his family's concern.

Over the next six weeks, Tyler visited consistently, lifting my spirits and helping me recover.

“At seventeen weeks, the baby's growth is right on track.”

After a thorough check-up, Tyler finally approved my discharge.

Back at the mansion, the days of rest left me feeling trapped, so I decided to drive to the Richards Group.

My hospital stay had delayed a lot of work, leaving my office cluttered with files.

Seeing me, my assistant Helen let out a sigh of relief and quickly joined me in tackling the workload.

“Ms. Tucker, a document needs Mr. Richards' signature,” she said, extracting a file and preparing to deliver it.

I stopped her. “I'll take it myself.”