Chapter 8
I clenched my teeth, enduring it silently.
Outside, the snow fell harder, wind howling against the windows.
Time blurred.
When it was finally over, I lay there–drenched in sweat, limbs trembling, a dull ache blooming in my abdomen.
And fear.
My period hadn’t come. And something in my gut twisted tight.
“Vincent, I-”
He didn’t like the distraction. His touch grew rougher, silencing me.
Every breath I tried to take was stolen by his kiss–sharp, forceful, unrelenting.
By the time it ended, it was nearly dawn.
I was exhausted, my mind slipping in and out of consciousness. A dull ache settled in my lower abdomen–not sharp, but enough to keep me from falling into deep sleep.
Somewhere in the haze, I heard my phone ringing.
I cracked my eyes open and watched as Vincent, now draped in a bathrobe, picked up his phone and walked into the bathroom.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I didn’t know how much time had passed when I heard a car engine downstairs.
He was gone.
When I woke the next morning, the space beside me was still cold.
I turned over and rested a hand on my belly.
The ache had passed.
My phone rang again–this time it was Lillian, Vincent’s mother.
“Come to the estate. Now.”
Her tone was clipped, commanding. Not a request, but an order.
Five years into this hidden marriage, I was used to her attitude.
The Williams family was the most powerful among New York’s Four Great Houses. And though I came from the Brown family, I was merely the unwanted daughter.
Our marriage had never been a fairy tale–it was the product of two transactions.
The first happened eight years ago.
My mother killed my father in a domestic violence incident–technically self–defense, but the Brown family turned against her. My he grandmother led the charge, pushing for a death sentence.
When I tried to defend han 1
Chapter 8
I was alone. Cornered.
That’s when my professor suggested I go to Vincent.
The Williams family had more power than the Browns could ever dream of.
And in court? Vincent had never lost a single case.
He got my mother an eight–year sentence.
The second deal happened three years ago, during my divorce.
I had married my college classmate, Ethan Johnson, after my mother went to prison.
The marriage ended in scandal.
The man I thought I could depend on betrayed me in the cruelest way–and I lost my unborn child at eight months. With my name dragged through the mud, abandoned, grieving, I turned to the only person I could think of:
Vincent.
He didn’t question why I had left him so abruptly years ago.
He simply agreed to take my case–but with one condition:
I had to marry him.
After the trial, we would marry in secret. I’d care for his adopted son until my mother was released.
That was the deal.
According to Vincent, Rowan was the son of his late best friend–a child orphaned by tragedy. He had taken Rowan in quietly. Few in the Williams family even knew the truth.
Now five years had passed.
My mother would be released in a month.
From the beginning, this marriage had a price tag. Clear terms. Mutual benefit.
I hadn’t lost anything… not really.
But somehow, somewhere along the way… I gave my
heart
anyway.
I shook the thought away and walked into the bathroom.
That creeping unease returned.
We always used protection. Always.
Except that one time–a month ago–when he came home drunk…
My phone rang again. It was my assistant, Betty.
We went over a few work matters, and after we hung up, I accidentally tapped a trending alert on the screen.
Vincent was trending.
More accurately–Vincent and Doris, the top actress of the moment.
#Doris spotted with mystery boyfriend on romantic Paris getaway; pair returned togethe
Chapter 8
The photo only showed a side profile of the man. Not even a full face.
But I recognized him instantly.
Vincent.
I stared at the screen, motionless.
Then I opened Doris’s social feed.
Sure enough, she’d posted at 5 AM.
A photo of a sunrise.
“Around the world and back again.
I’m just glad you’re still here.”
I looked at the picture, but all I could see was the two of them–watching the sunrise together, wrapped in each other’s arms.
So that’s why he left so suddenly last night.
To watch the sunrise with the woman he truly loved.
I let out a dry laugh.
How pathetic.
She’s back now.
Soon enough, Vincent will ask for a divorce.
And maybe that’s for the best.
When that day comes, I’ll leave his world entirely.
And this delusion–this pitiful little fantasy I never should’ve dared to have–can finally die with it.
Maybe it was for the best.
Once divorced, I would finally be able to leave Vincent’s world behind.
We would become strangers, never to cross paths again.
And the foolish, humiliating feelings I had tried so hard to bury… would finally be put to rest.
I arrived at the Williams family estate and parked in a temporary guest spot.
As I walked through the snow–dusted paths, none of the passing servants greeted me–some barely glanced up. They went about their tasks as if I
didn’t exist.
I remained calm.
After five years of marriage, I was used to being invisible here.
Lillian, Vincent’s mother, had always looked down on me. So did the servants.
If not for Rowan, I would never have set foot in this house again.
“Mommy!”
Chapter 8
A bright, familiar voice rang through the grand living room.
Rowan ran toward me like a little koala and threw his arms around my waist.
“You finally came for me! Mommy, I thought you left me!” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Grandma said you didn’t want me anymore….”
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