Sol Kelly stared at Zamir like she was looking at a stranger. Shock flickered across her face, followed by distance. Like she had never really known the man standing in front of her.

Memories came rushing back—their first winter near the orphanage. The cold had been brutal, the north wind slicing their skin like icy knives. The children huddled outside with Mrs. Quinn, stomping their feet and rubbing their hands together for warmth. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright with joy.

She remembered Zamir at the gate, his gaze softening as he watched them. He didn’t say a word. He just walked to the bakery down the street and came back with bags of warm spiced honey cakes, handing them out to the kids himself.

Only later did Sol learn that Zamir’s childhood had mirrored theirs.

He’d been an orphan too, raised in a rural home where thin blankets were all that stood between him and the cold. Holidays meant cold bread and salted meat—not feasts.

Once, he’d taken her hand and looked her straight in the eye. “Sol, I know what it’s like to have no one to lean on. I want these kids to feel a little warmth—something I never had.”

Back then, his empathy had been real. His voice had been full of genuine care.

It was that tender side hidden beneath his tough exterior that moved her, made her want to build a life with him.

She’d believed people who survived hardship knew how to recognize kindness and gratitude better than anyone.

Now, the man in front of her was tearing that tenderness apart with cold indifference.

“Zamir,” Sol’s voice trembled with a disappointment so deep it hurt, “do you remember what you said? You understood their loneliness. You wanted to bring those children warmth. And now you’re threatening to destroy their home just to get to me?”

The kindness vanished from Zamir’s face, replaced by something chilling. “That was then. Now is different. Back then, I had nothing—I understood what they were going through. Now I have bigger ambitions. And you, Sol—you’re too softhearted to let those kids suffer.”

Sol looked at him, grief pooling in her eyes. “Zamir, you haven’t just betrayed us. You’ve betrayed yourself—the part of you that once looked for warmth in the cold. You’ve changed so much you don’t even know who you are.”

“People change, Sol. But my love for you remains constant.” Zamir pulled out a set of keys and pressed them into her hand. “I bought the house back. Everything’s waiting for you to come home.”

He gripped her hand and led her to the car.

“Sol…” Mrs. Quinn called after her.

Sol rolled down the window, met Mrs. Quinn’s worried gaze, and gave a small shake of her head.

“Take care of the children. And yourself.”

The words sounded like goodbye.

Mrs. Quinn’s eyes welled up. “You take care, too.”

...

Half an hour later, the car pulled up outside the house in Sandy Bay.

Zamir hurried to open her door. Sol’s expression didn’t change.

Inside, everything was exactly as it had been. The things she’d thrown out were back in place.

Like nothing had ever happened.

“Zamir, what’s the point?” She spoke with her back to him, her voice cold.

Zamir stepped closer and rested his hands gently on her shoulders, his tone as smooth as ever. “You don’t understand business. Those shares are worthless to you. After we’re married, you’ll have everything you want. Just settle into being Mrs. Peterson.”

He set a share transfer agreement in front of her.

Sol turned, her smile sharp and mocking. “What’s done is done, Zamir. Don’t be greedy. People who want everything end up with nothing.”

“Mrs. Peterson doesn’t need to worry.”

His smile was warm, but his eyes were cold. His words cut. “You don’t have to sign. But I can’t guarantee the orphanage will remain untouched.”

“You’re despicable!”

Sol slapped his hands away. Her fingers went white under the pressure, nails digging into her palms. Her eyes blazed—so fierce they nearly consumed the man in front of her.

Zamir’s hands froze. The warmth in his face faded a little, but he stayed confident. He’d found her weak spot.

“Don’t blame me, Sol.”

He reached to touch her face, his voice tinged with false regret. “I’m just afraid of losing you.”

“Even now, you’re lying!”

Sol turned her face away, her voice cold with disappointment. “Are you afraid of losing me—or of me selling the shares and threatening your control over the company?”

In the end, he loved only himself. This was all about trapping her, feeding his need for control.

Then Zamir’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and cut the call, but it rang again, insistent.

“Aren’t you going to answer? What if it’s urgent?”

Zamir’s face hardened as he answered. Whatever he heard made his expression darken.

“Alright, I’ll come.”

Before leaving, he told Sol, “Think it over. I’ll be back for you tomorrow.”

...

In the hospital room, Carly Perkins was curled up in the corner of her bed. She clutched a pair of scissors in one hand; the other shielded her stomach. She looked like a frightened bird, eyes fierce and protective, letting no one near.

When Zamir entered, she dropped the scissors and stumbled barefoot into his arms, her shoulders shaking.

“Zamir, please let me keep this child. I promise I won’t cause problems or compete with Sol.”

Tears streaked her face, her voice pleading. “Sol won’t let you near her. I’ll give this child to Sol to raise. You need a child of your own.”

She knew Zamir’s priorities.

Sol refused closeness, and Zamir resented it.

Carly had sacrificed everything for him, yet Zamir couldn’t let Sol go.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have tolerated two years without incident.

She understood better than anyone how cold he could be.

Zamir looked at her tearful, pathetic face. His eyes hardened as he gripped her chin firmly.

“Are you willing?”

“As long as I can be with you, nothing else matters.”

Sol wouldn’t let him near her, and he couldn’t force her. But he did need a child. Carly had stayed with him for two years—obedient, no trouble.

Sol loved children. She showed compassion for those at the orphanage, so she would surely care for a child given to her, raising it as her own.

His grip loosened. His voice held no warmth.

“I’ll take you back. Behave and take care of the baby. Don’t discuss this with Sol.”

Carly Perkins clutched Zamir Peterson’s shirt, her voice gentle, her eyes calculating. “Zamir, your wedding to Sol is tomorrow. Why not spend the night with me and the baby?”

Zamir dropped his gaze. He knew exactly what she was doing—trying to pull him in—but his mind drifted, unbidden, to Sol Kelly’s cold, piercing stare. Irritation he couldn’t explain washed over him. He pulled away from Carly, his tone ice-cold. “I’ll have someone take you home. Until the baby’s born, don’t come to the office.”

“Is this Sol’s doing?” Carly’s voice cracked as she clung to his shirt. “How can she be so selfish? She doesn’t appreciate how hard you work. You’re killing yourself trying to give her a better life, and all she does is cause drama…”

Zamir’s icy stare shut her up. “Do you really think you get a say in what happens between Sol and me?”

Carly bit her lip, suddenly too scared to speak.

Before, even a little jab at Sol would’ve earned Carly his sympathy. But today? His whole demeanor was different.

After two years of bending over backward to please him, Carly realized she still couldn’t measure up to Sol Kelly.

Why?

What did Sol have besides a pretty face? Carly was the more attentive partner. The more capable assistant. She was sure of it.

A deep resentment curled in her chest. As she watched Zamir walk away without a backward glance, a scheme took shape—something vicious. If Sol Kelly lost face before the wedding, would Zamir still marry her?

She snatched up her phone and sent Sol a message.

...

Zamir got back to the house in Sandy Bay. He opened the front door to nothing but darkness and the chill of silence.

Panic hit him out of nowhere. He rushed through the entryway. Sol was nowhere.

Frowning, he dialed her number—only to find he’d been blocked.

He grabbed the landline and tried again.

“Where are you?”

Sol was lounging on the bed. Surprise flickered across her face when she answered. Wasn’t he supposed to be with Carly right now?

She kept her voice calm. “I went out to buy a few things. Are you keeping tabs on me?”

She planned to leave tomorrow, and she didn’t want any complications before then.

Zamir’s tone softened instantly. “The thought of our wedding tomorrow got me nervous. I wanted to see you.”

Was he checking to make sure she hadn’t run off? Afraid of being humiliated alone on their wedding day?

Sol’s voice turned deliberately soft, compliant. “Traditionally, the bride and groom spend the night before the wedding apart. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony. Zamir, if you’re going to marry me, don’t break the rules.”

The same woman who’d sworn in broad daylight that she wouldn’t marry him had suddenly changed her tune?

Relief washed over Zamir. She just couldn’t do without him after all.

“Sol, don’t worry. If you still can’t accept me within a year of marriage, we’ll adopt a child from the orphanage. We’ll live a good life. What happened with Carly won’t happen again.”

Sol laughed coldly to herself. She didn’t believe a single word.

“Okay. I believe you. Now go back.”

“See you tomorrow.”

The second she hung up, a message alert pinged.

Sender: Carly Perkins

[Sol, I’m pregnant. But don’t worry—I won’t fight you for the Mrs. Peterson title.]

Attached was an ultrasound, the outline of the gestational sac glaring up from the screen.

Expression blank, Sol filed the message—along with every previous provocative text from Carly—into an encrypted document.

She replied: [Meet me at the Downtown Café.]

...

“Sol…”

Carly spoke cautiously, but Sol’s gaze was unwavering, steady as an ancient well. No hatred. Only a disquieting emptiness.

Carly dropped the act. A smug smile spread across her face.

“I love Zamir, and I’m carrying his child. I won’t leave him. He told me he can’t resist my young body, and he even agreed to let you raise the baby. I assume you’re not the type to raise another woman’s child?”

She took a sip of coffee, her tone casual, like she was talking about someone else’s life.

“Why don’t you tell me about you and Zamir?”

Uncertain what Sol was up to, Carly assumed she’d given up and eagerly started bragging about her time with Zamir.

“Last March, on your birthday, Zamir took me to Paris on a business trip. He chartered a yacht and spent the whole night showing me the lights along the Seine. In April, you had your appendix out. After he signed the surgery consent, I told him a bulb had gone out, and he left you to stay with me. During the June storms, he said he was working late, but he was really with me at the office… And your second anniversary? I told him a client was giving me a hard time, and he rushed over—leaving you behind.”

As Sol listened, every word was a needle. It stung—but it also cleared her mind.

Every understanding gesture she’d made had become an excuse for his betrayal. Every faithful wait had become the backdrop for his little romance with Carly.

On her birthday, she’d made a table full of his favorite dishes, only for him to call at the last minute and say he had to travel. The day of her appendicitis surgery, while she lay there in pain, he used “urgent business” as an excuse to be with another woman. On their anniversary, she waited two hours in a new dress, only to be brushed off with “I’ll make it up to you.”

Every sacrifice she’d made had been a farce.

Her lips curled with bitter irony. “If you love Zamir so much, why don’t you take my place at tomorrow’s wedding?”

Carly hesitated, but the idea tempted her.

“You’d really let me?”

Sol recited a code.

“That’s the entry code for Sandy Bay. Go tonight.”

Carly eyed her suspiciously.

“You’re not setting me up?”

If Zamir found out she’d impersonated Sol, he’d be furious. He’d make a scene.

“We’re having a traditional wedding. During the ceremony, you’ll keep your face hidden beneath an opaque veil until the groom lifts it at the altar. Zamir cares about appearances. He won’t make a scene. Once the ceremony’s over, there’s no going back. Didn’t you say he can’t resist you? Use your charm. He’ll be at your mercy.”

Her words hit Carly like a shot of adrenaline. Her resolve wavered again.

“And you?”

“I’m leaving Manchester. Never coming back.”

With that, Sol stood and walked toward the café exit.

Watching her go, Carly dialed a number.

“Do it. Just like we planned. Get HD footage of every part. Don’t miss a single detail!”

Her voice bubbled with excitement and malice, her eyes gleaming like a serpent poised to strike.

A cold autumn wind tore down the streets, carrying leaves that whispered like trouble. Sol Kelly hugged her coat tighter. Tears welled in her eyes as she tipped her face to the dark sky. She’d just stepped to the curb to hail a cab when a rough hand clamped over her mouth and nose. The smell hit her—sweet, sickening, chemical. It flooded her senses fast. Dizziness rolled through her like a wave. Strength drained from her limbs, and the streetlights smeared into a blur of scattered stars.

Seconds later, everything went black.

When she woke, she was in a bedroom she didn’t recognize. Her body lay limp, refusing to listen. Footsteps echoed outside. The door swung open a beat later, and three shirtless men stepped in. Their eyes gleamed with unchecked lust and greed.

The one in front crouched beside her, fingers trailing over her collar like he was mocking her. “They weren’t kidding. Zamir’s woman is a real prize.”

Another laughed, his stare vicious, every word filthy. “You haven’t lived till you’ve had a taste like this. Brothers, tonight we feast.”

“I heard she’s untouched. Bet that’s an experience.”

“Nobody better get in my way—I’m going first.”

“Why do you always get first pick? You always take the best.”

“How about we take turns?”

Their intentions passed between them in shared glances—predatory, locked on her.

Sol’s pupils shrank. Terror gripped her heart, panic rising hot in her throat. She tried to part her lips, but only a faint, helpless sound came out—a plea for help swallowed by the room.

“Make her drink this!” the leader barked. Another man stepped forward and gripped her jaw like a vise, forcing her head back.

A cold cup rim pressed to her lips. Liquid poured down her throat, harsh and fast, making her cough and sputter. She couldn’t summon the strength to turn away; her limbs only twitched weakly against the drug.

The liquid settled low in her stomach and caught fire. Heat crawled from her core to her fingertips, leaving a tingling burn under her skin. Her vision blurred. The men above her doubled, then swam out of focus.

Heat fused with exhaustion until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Through slitted lids, she watched in horror as they closed in, rough hands brushing her skin, every touch unbearable.

Despair swallowed her whole. Memories crashed over her—another terror, another room, a fate she’d barely escaped three years ago. Back then, Zamir Peterson had appeared like a savior and pulled her out of hell.

But this time, Zamir wasn’t coming.

She shut her eyes and surrendered to what was coming.

The heavy oak door shattered against the drywall with a concussive blast. Fists met flesh. Screams flared, then died into silence.

Sol’s lashes fluttered. Her fingers curled into her clothes, eyelids heavy as she fought to open them.

Backlit by the light, a tall, imposing figure strode toward her with lethal grace. The cold clinging to him eased the moment his gaze landed on her.

He knelt beside her, silent, and stripped off his black coat, wrapping her in its warmth.

The coat swallowed her whole, shielding her from the cold—and from shame.

He reached down, cradling her limp neck with a grip both firm and gentle, and lifted her into his arms.

His warmth bled through her clothes, and a shiver ran through her.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m getting you out of here.” His voice was low, steady, reassuring as he carried her away from the chaos.

As they passed through the doorway, Adrian Lopez glanced at her, then at the groaning men on the floor. His expression iced over, his words sharp as frost. “Interrogate them.”

His head of security nodded. “I’ll get them talking.”

The car was too hot. Sol curled against Adrian, the drug burning hotter by the second, her mind melting into a fever haze.

“Hot… so hot…” Her thoughts drifted like she was floating on clouds. The only anchor left was the clean, masculine scent wrapping around her.

She fisted his shirt collar, fingers brushing his throat, her face burrowing into the crook of his neck. Her lips skimmed his jaw, breath coming in soft, desperate pants.

Adrian went rigid, muscles drawn tight. His grip tightened, and his voice came out rough, restrained. “Hold on. We’re almost at the hospital.”

But she was past reason. Her face was flushed, eyes misted, and she clung to him, arms winding around his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

The second their lips touched, her breath mixed with his. Her exploration was urgent, her tongue shy but pushing forward.

Every clumsy attempt only made her want more, her teeth catching his lip in frustration.

Adrian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Desire hovered at the edge. His narrowed eyes went dark with temptation, and then he took control—past her defenses, claiming her mouth with dominance.

The driver quietly raised the partition and hit the gas in silence.

Adrian’s lips traveled down her neck, leaving heat in their wake, the car’s temperature climbing with every inch.

At the crucial moment, he caught the dazed glaze in her eyes. The fire in his chest snuffed out. He caught her wandering wrist and turned his head away from her seeking lips.

His voice was rough but firm with restraint. “Sol, focus. Look at me. See who I am.”

Taking advantage of her like this went against everything he was.

He cradled her against him, holding her wrist tight, his gaze a storm of warring emotions.

Sol’s lashes trembled. She barely seemed to recognize him.

“Adrian… Lopez?”

He swallowed hard. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

Confusion flickered through her eyes, then the heat swallowed it whole, leaving nothing but raw need.

“I want you…” Before she could finish, her lips found his.

“Mr. Lopez, we’re at the hotel…” The driver’s voice cut through the haze as the car stopped.

Adrian carried her out of the car, through the hotel foyer, and into the elevator.

She was soft and pliant in his arms, clinging to him, demanding kisses.

“Heh.” A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. He leaned in and captured her lips, their mouths moving in a feverish dance.

Once inside, he guided her hand to swipe the card, then moved them through to the bedroom. Clothes fell along the way, and he peeled away her layers like the first bloom of spring.

Under the cover of night, they gave in to a spiral of passion, the room becoming a cocoon of endless indulgence.