In high society circles, one secret is widely known.

Aaron, heir to the illustrious Aaron's Family, has a taste for threesomes.

And his rule is simple: Megan must always be one of the two women—because she’s his official girlfriend, his chosen one, the future mother of his child.

As usual, Megan entered the penthouse suite of The Carthage with a camera in hand, a used pregnancy test clutched between her fingers.

She stared down at the two clear red lines, hesitating. Should she tell Aaron about this second pregnancy?

But as soon as she stepped into the living room, she heard it—muffled yet unmistakable—the sounds of a woman’s moans drifting from behind the slightly ajar bedroom door.

Everyone assumed that whenever Aaron wanted to play, the other woman would join in for a threesome with Megan.

But that wasn’t the truth.

Megan had always been the one stationed by the wall, operating the camera. Aaron made her stay from start to finish, watching him with others—all to punish her for once choosing power and status over him.

This time, though, Megan froze. Through the crack in the door, she glimpsed the blurred profile of the woman on the bed.

It was Abigail, her younger sister—the one their father had taken after the divorce.

Wearing lingerie from his favorite brand, Abigail’s body was dotted with love bites, her lips slightly swollen. Her fingers traced teasing patterns over his chest. Aaron’s shirt hung open, a cigarette between his lips, and he gave her backside a firm, familiar squeeze.

Megan’s legs went weak. She had to look away.

Their moving bodies felt like needles stabbing her eyes. A tight, suffocating pressure built in her chest, and her hand clenched unconsciously around the pregnancy test.

Lost in the moment, she heard Aaron’s cool, amused voice. “Want to know?”

Abigail pushed lightly against his chest, her tone coquettish. “How do I know I won’t be the next Megan? What if I get pregnant? Would you just flush our five-month-old baby down the drain too?”

The words hit Megan like a physical blow. Her vision blurred; a sharp sting rose in her nose.

That was their first daughter. That single sentence brought the memory rushing back—the tiny, chubby face, the features that looked so much like her father, as beautiful as Aaron himself.

A buzzing filled her ears, drowning out the conversation inside.

But when she focused, she saw Aaron’s expression falter for a second. He took a deep, harsh drag from his cigarette, coughed, then simply smiled without answering—a smile cold and numb.

Abigail pouted. Aaron planted a light kiss on her cheek. “Enough. You’re nothing like her. That stuck-up act of hers is a total turn-off. Don’t compare yourself to her; it’s beneath you.”

Abigail laughed. “True. But what if she gets pregnant again? I don’t believe you haven’t touched her since.”

Aaron exhaled a final cloud of smoke toward the ceiling, his eyes unreadable, his voice flat. “She won’t. I had one of her ovaries removed. It’ll be hard for her to get pregnant again. Megan’s so damn gullible. Offered enough money, she signed the consent form without even reading it. Less hassle for me.”

He let out a derisive snort.

That soft, mocking laugh snapped Megan back to reality. Her hand flew instinctively to her lower abdomen, and the pregnancy test slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor.

The sharp sound was lost under Abigail’s giggle.

Megan felt invisible hands clamp around her throat, strangling the air from her lungs. Aaron’s words echoed in her mind.

She remembered their first child. They were just teenagers, naive and in their first year of university when she found out.

Too thin to show much, Megan hadn’t realized she was pregnant until she was over four months along.

Lying in a hospital bed, feeling the baby’s heartbeat, she hadn’t told Aaron. A week later, the Family found out.

They dragged her to an operating table.

She begged and screamed, “Aaron, save our baby!” But under the blinding surgical lights, the anesthesia dragged her consciousness into a hollow, numb void. Helpless, she could only watch as they forced her into a late-term abortion—and then, right in front of her, flushed her child down a drain.

When the drugs wore off, Megan clutched her freshly operated abdomen, blood pooling around her ankles.

And that was the moment Aaron arrived.

He thought she’d chosen to abort. The misunderstanding was born.

He hated her for “getting rid” of their child, never giving her a chance to explain. He left her alone in the villa to recover. A month later, he returned, dragged her back to the hospital without a word, calling it a “minor check-up,” and made her sign some papers.

She never imagined his revenge would be removing one of her ovaries.

And after she tried to escape, he ruined her reputation. Night after night, he made her watch as he took his pleasure with others, reducing her to a hollow shell—just another piece of equipment in the room, there to record his vengeance.

Megan picked up the pregnancy test from the floor. Gently, she cradled her still-flat stomach, her mind filling with the image of their daughter being washed away all those years ago.

The narrow pipe, the murky, foul-smelling water, the rotting carcass of a rat.

That was their daughter’s grave.

Abigail kissed Aaron, her fingers stroking his chest. “Aaron, what if my sister finds out about all this? Aren’t you afraid she’ll get angry and leave again? Or make you...”

Aaron caught her wandering hand. “You don’t know her. If she were the type to leave, she wouldn’t be Megan. She has no money. Your mother kisses my uncle’s ass. Without me, she’s nothing.

“She tried running away before. Came crawling back when the money ran out. If there’s a next time... she won’t get the chance.”

A cold smirk touched Aaron’s lips.

Megan kept her head bowed. Suddenly, a bitter smile twisted her own lips. She tucked the pregnancy test back into her pocket.

Her gaze fell on the camera tripod beside her. She stared at it for a long moment, placed her hand on it, then in one motion lifted the tripod and pushed the door open.

Abigail gasped at the sudden blow.

Yet Megan’s expression stayed eerily calm. Her eyes met Aaron’s in midair—both momentarily stunned—before they looked away in a weirdly synchronized move, as though they’d rehearsed it.

A sharp slap cut the silence. Aaron had just smacked Abigail’s rear right in front of her, but his challenging stare was fixed on Megan.

“Dreamy, go back first,” he said, using Abigail’s nickname.

Megan, bent over to turn on the camera, paused. Straightening, she met Abigail’s resentful, furious glare.

The door clicked shut. Now Megan was alone in the room with the half-dressed man on the bed.

Aaron tilted his chin up with a sneer. “Hah. Why are you still standing there? Strip. She’s gone. Now it’s your turn.”

Megan held his gaze for three seconds, then began removing her clothes with mechanical movements.

As she undid the second button of her blouse, Aaron snatched his clothes from the floor, lit a cigarette, and brushed past her. “Boring.”

He accused her of barging in like some numb machine, ruining his mood.

Aaron rummaged through his suit jacket on the sofa, pulled out his wallet, and shoved a card into her lace bra. “The girl from last time is getting complicated. You’ll have to handle it.”

Megan glanced down but didn’t move.

When she stayed silent, Aaron suddenly grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “What? You were so determined to leave back then, but you came crawling the moment you needed money. Can’t you even do this?”

Megan said nothing.

After a long moment, she skipped the topic entirely. Her eyes calm, she asked, “Our contract only has one month left. You’ll give me the study abroad spot then, right?”

They’d agreed long ago: during the contract, Megan would be available whenever he called. In return, Aaron would pay her an astronomical sum and arrange a study abroad placement.

Megan’s hand clenched tightly in her pocket. She watched his expression darken, his gaze turn icy, veins bulging at his temples.

The card was yanked out violently and slapped against the side of her face—the sting immediate, searing.

“Get out.”

Megan said nothing. She picked the card up from the floor and left, utterly humiliated.

Only when she arrived at the private dining room Aaron had specified and saw the college girl did she understand what he’d meant by “complicated.”

She remembered her—the film student Aaron had fallen for at first sight a while back, then grown bored of after a few encounters.

The girl was pregnant. The moment she saw Megan, she seemed to know exactly why she was there, trembling as she hid behind her parents.

Aaron’s instruction had been clear: the child had to disappear.

When Megan coldly stated the purpose of her visit—to arrange an abortion—the girl’s father smashed a wine glass on the table. Enraged, he shoved her hard. Megan lost her balance and fell to the floor.

“Have you ever had a child?” he shouted. “Do you have any idea how much damage an abortion does to a girl? Let me tell you, we won’t let this go!”

With that, he kicked the pale-faced Megan on the ground—once, twice. Instinctively, she curled protectively around her abdomen, her mind flooding with images of her own daughter.

The man spat on her. “Disgusting! Persuading someone to abort! I hope if you ever have a child, the same thing happens to you!”

The family stormed out, leaving Megan curled on the floor. It took her a moment to struggle up.

Looking at Aaron’s cold, demanding message about terminating the pregnancy, all those painful memories came crashing back like a tidal wave.

Megan thought they were right.

She had been too weak. She hadn’t protected her daughter. If she’d fought harder back then, if she’d gotten her into an incubator in time… could she have saved her?

Would her daughter blame her?

And now, fate had given her another chance at motherhood—a child with Aaron, of all people. With only one ovary left, this might be her last chance.

She wanted so desperately to protect this child. But why did it have to be Aaron’s?

Once she felt steady enough, Megan went to the hospital alone for a check-up. Thankfully, everything was fine.

By the time she left, rumors about an illegitimate child in Aaron’s family were spreading like wildfire across the city.

Headlines flooded social media: “Heir’s Girlfriend Shows Her True Colors, Forces Abortion with ‘Official’ Authority.” Unblurred photos of Megan were plastered everywhere—on skyscrapers, at bus stops, in shop windows. Not a single image of Aaron appeared among them.

Megan endured the whispers and pointed stares all the way home.

But she didn’t know that returning home was where her real nightmare would begin.

Megan slipped from her stepfather’s room at two in the morning, clutching her disheveled clothes to her chest, her eyes red-rimmed and raw.

Her mother stood just outside the door. Their gazes met. Megan drew a sharp breath, the word *Mom* catching in her throat, refusing to form.

She couldn’t understand it. To secure her place as Mrs. Jordan, how could her own mother have delivered her daughter—again and again—into that monster’s hands?

Grace instinctively reached for her, but Megan flinched away. “Megan, don’t blame me,” Grace pleaded, her voice tight. “Those rumors you started—about forcing a girl to get an abortion—they hurt his stocks. He was furious. That’s why…”

Hearing the excuse, Megan’s control shattered. “You’re my mother!” she cried, the words tearing loose. “How could you drug me again? How could you do this to me?”

“I’m calling the police. I’m going to the police!”

She turned and ran for the stairs.

But Grace’s hand shot out, fingers clamping like a vise around Megan’s wrist. Then, in a sudden, shocking movement, Grace dropped to her knees. “Megan, I’m begging you, you can’t!” she sobbed, her grip unyielding. “If you go to the police, we’re finished. And besides… he’d never let you get that far.”

Megan froze, the fight draining out of her.

Staring down at her mother’s contorted face, a memory surfaced—the year her parents divorced. The court had granted custody to her father. Until Abigail planted a box of condoms in Megan’s schoolbag. That one act altered the course of her life.

For the first few years, Grace had held Jordan’s favor. But as her youth faded, his attention shifted to her young daughter.

The first time Grace drugged her, Megan woke covered in bruises, a sharp, tearing pain low in her belly.

Her first instinct had been to tell Aaron. But Grace knelt beside her, threatening to take her own life if Megan said a word.

*He listens to his uncle*, Grace had hissed. *And he doesn’t love you anymore. He won’t help you.*

History proved her right.

Megan gathered evidence, only for Grace to find and shred it before she could act.

She tried to run. Jordan sent a van after her. She still remembered the hungry, leering gazes of the men inside. Battered and broken, she fled to the one place that had ever felt like safety.

Aaron’s house. She hoped for concern, for comfort. Instead, she met cold indifference.

And now, once again, she had run. She stood outside his door, clutching the necklace drive, that last fragile shred of hope in her heart as she dialed his number.

First call: no answer.

Second call: still nothing—no reply to her text either.

...

By the ninth call, he finally picked up. A sob of relief caught in Megan’s throat.

But from the other end came soft, panting breaths—two women—the sound of kisses, the slick, wet noise of skin on skin. Aaron’s voice cut through, irritated. “What is it now, Megan? Do you have any sense of timing at all?”

The sudden harshness startled her. She sniffed, a strange numbness settling over her. “It’s nothing. Sorry.”

She hung up in a panic. As she pulled the phone from her ear, she thought she heard his voice soften, a faint “Hello? Megan?” But her chest felt like a stone was crushing it. She couldn’t breathe; her legs gave way, and she slid down the doorframe to the floor.

The housekeeper found her in time, helped her inside, and made her a cup of ginger tea.

That sudden, unexpected kindness broke through Megan’s defenses. She crawled under the covers and wept until she gasped for air, finally crying herself into a fitful sleep.

She didn’t know how long she’d slept when a sudden chill between her legs jolted her awake.

She sat bolt upright. Aaron stood there, a silk handkerchief in his hand, meticulously wiping his fingers.

His expression was dark, a sneer twisting his lips. “Couldn’t wait for me?”

A cold dread shot through Megan—the memory of Jordan’s violation flooding back.

He tossed the handkerchief carelessly onto the floor, grabbed her calf, and knelt between her legs.

All sleepiness vanished. Megan instinctively covered her abdomen, her voice strained. “Not tonight. I’m not feeling well.”

Her violent recoil, the way she tried to shrink into the mattress, gave him pause. He let out a short, derisive laugh. “Why not? Is your body some precious commodity now? Do I need your permission?”

She kept struggling, trying to pry his hand from her leg, but his grip was iron.

“What’s wrong with you?” he snapped, his patience fraying. “Did someone else have you?”

Before she could answer, his voice turned icy. “What, my money isn’t enough anymore? Eager to find your next mark already? You forget we still have a month left on our little agreement. Stop this, Megan. No one else would want you.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. A bitter laugh escaped her. “You’d be disgusted if someone else touched me?”

A strange flicker passed through his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve always been disgusted by you. Or have you forgotten how you looked at me back then?”

Megan went still. The memories of her escape crashed over her again.

That night she’d fled from Jordan, stumbling out of that van and back to him. Aaron’s first words had been, “Megan, is climbing the social ladder all you care about? An old man past his prime couldn’t satisfy you? How greedy can you be?”

He’d said it, pushed her away, and left.

And now, this Aaron did the same. He let her go, turning to leave. At the door, he paused, his voice flat. “I only came back to tell you. Abigail is moving in tomorrow. She’s pregnant. You’ll take care of her.”