"Fuck, Sophia. Right there." Jacob grunted, his hips slamming forward with brutal force.

"Harder, Jacob," I gasped. My nails dug into the sweat-slicked skin of his back. "Fucking harder."

He drove his cock deep inside my cunt. The wet, slapping sound of our bodies colliding echoed off the bedroom walls. The mattress squeaked in protest under his heavy weight.

He grabbed my thighs, pushing them wide open. "Look at me," he demanded.

His fingers wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my pulse pound against his palm.

I met his gaze. His eyes were dark, devoid of anything but raw lust.

"Jacob. Fuck, please."

He thrust viciously, pinning my hips down against the sheets. The thick head of his dick scraped my cervix, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to my clitoris.

"You like that?" he sneered, grinding his pelvis into mine.

"Yes," I moaned, throwing my head back. "Don't stop."

He pumped in and out of my wet pussy, the friction building a raging fire in my lower belly. He didn't bother kissing me. He hadn't kissed me on the mouth in months. This wasn't making love. This was just a physical release.

"I'm going to cum," he growled, his jaw rigid.

"Fill me up," I cried out. I arched my spine, lifting my ass off the bed to take every inch of him.

"Good fucking girl." He gave three more bruising thrusts. His heavy frame shuddered violently as he unloaded his semen deep inside me.

He pulled out immediately. No lingering touch. No comforting embrace.

A thick trail of his cum spilled onto the sheets, pooling between my legs.

Jacob stood up, entirely indifferent to the mess. He grabbed his boxers from the floor and stepped into them, pulling the elastic waistband up over his hips.

"We need to get a divorce," he stated.

"What?" I stared at him. The flush of orgasm rapidly drained from my skin, replaced by a freezing numbness.

He yanked his dress shirt off the chair and shoved his arms into the sleeves. He refused to look at me.

"You heard me." He buttoned the shirt, his voice completely flat. "I'll have my lawyers draft the papers tomorrow morning."

I scrambled up, pulling the duvet over my naked breasts. My hands shook so violently I could barely grip the fabric.

"Are you out of your mind? We were just fucking. Why are you saying this right now?"

"It's just temporary," Jacob replied. He reached for his slacks. "Once I handle things, we'll remarry."

"Remarry? You want to divorce me temporarily?"

"I'll keep funding your family's business," he continued, ignoring my shock. "The accounts will receive their monthly deposits. You won't lose a dime."

I gripped the edge of the blanket. The bedroom suddenly felt like a freezer.

"Handle things?" I forced the words past the massive lump in my throat. "You mean handle Annie."

His fingers paused on his zipper. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

"Don't start this again, Sophia."

"I'm not starting anything!" I yelled. I threw the duvet aside and stood up barefoot. "You swore you were done with her. A fucking college student, Jacob? You cried in this exact room and promised me that cheap affair was over."

"It's complicated." He grabbed his tie, rolling it up and stuffing it into his pocket.

"No, it's not complicated. I know you started seeing her again a month ago," I said, my voice cracking. "I saw the texts. You swore it was a mistake the first time."

"And I told you, I have to fix this mess," Jacob said. He picked up his watch from the nightstand and strapped it to his wrist. "Her family found out. They're threatening a public scandal. A temporary divorce protects my company and your father's business."

"So you divorce your wife to appease your mistress?"

"I'm securing our assets. When the dust settles, I'll come back."

"You expect me to just sit here and wait for you?"

"I expect you to be practical," he snapped. "I just guaranteed your father's livelihood. Show some gratitude."

"You think money fixes this?" I asked, stepping closer to him. "You think buying my father's silence makes it okay to humiliate me?"

"It's a strategic move," Jacob insisted. He finally turned to face me. "If her family goes to the press, the company takes a hit. If my company takes a hit, your family's supply chain collapses. I am protecting you."

"Bullshit," I spat. "You're protecting her."

"She's twenty-one, Sophia. She doesn't know how to handle the media."

"And I do? I'm supposed to play the discarded wife so your little whore can feel safe?"

"Watch your mouth," he warned, stepping into my space.

"Or what?" I tilted my chin up, refusing to back down. "You'll divorce me? You're already doing that."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You're being hysterical. I told you I'm coming back."

"I don't want you back."

"You don't mean that." He smirked, a cruel, confident expression. "You just begged me to fill your pussy five minutes ago. You're not going anywhere."

The truth of his words hit me like a slap. I had given him everything. My body, my loyalty, my dignity.

Hot tears spilled over my lower lashes. I wiped them away violently with the back of my hand. I refused to sob in front of him.

I turned my back to him, picking up my silk robe from the foot of the bed. I slid my arms into it and tied the sash tight around my waist.

"Get out," I whispered.

"Sophia, be reasonable."

"Get the fuck out of my house, Jacob."

He sighed, a sharp, irritated sound. He grabbed his keys from the dresser and walked out of the bedroom.

I followed him down the hallway, keeping my distance.

He opened the front door. The cool night air swept into the foyer, chilling my bare legs.

Before he even crossed the threshold, his phone vibrated in his hand. He answered it instantly.

"Hey, baby," Jacob murmured into the receiver.

The sheer tenderness in his voice felt like a physical strike. He hadn't spoken to me that way in years.

"I'm on my way," he continued, stepping out onto the porch. "Don't cry. I took care of it."

The heavy oak door slammed shut, cutting off the rest of his sickening reassurance.

I rushed to the living room window, pulling the heavy velvet curtain back just a fraction.

Jacob walked down the driveway toward his black Mercedes. His posture was entirely different now. The rigid tension in his shoulders had vanished. He smiled down at the phone in his hand, kicking a loose pebble off the pavement.

He looked like a man in love.

He looked like a man who hadn't just destroyed his marriage.

A bitter, metallic taste flooded my mouth. My chest tightened until I could barely draw oxygen into my lungs. I let the curtain fall, plunging the room back into darkness.

I leaned against the wall, sliding down the expensive wallpaper until I hit the cold hardwood floor.

I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my shins. Ten years. I had given that man ten years of my life, only to be tossed aside the second his twenty-one-year-old mistress threw a tantrum.

My phone buzzed on the console table above my head. The sudden vibration made me jump.

I reached up blindly, my fingers scrambling over the polished wood until I grabbed the device. The bright screen illuminated the dark hallway, glaring against my tear-filled eyes.

*Dad.*

I cleared my throat, trying to iron out the massive tremor in my chest. I wiped my damp cheeks one last time and swiped right.

"Hello?"

"Sophia," my father, John, said. His voice was gravelly, serious, lacking any parental warmth.

"Hi, Dad. It's late. Is everything okay?"

A heavy silence stretched across the line. I could hear the faint sound of ice clinking in a glass on his end.

"Sophia," John finally asked, "have you thought about that matter?"

Four in the morning. The front door lock clicked.

I hadn't moved from the living room sofa.

Jacob walked into the foyer. He stopped, noticing the lamp I’d left on.

"You're still awake," he stated, loosening his collar.

A heavy wave of vanilla and rose perfume rolled off his jacket. It wasn't mine.

Before I could answer, a second figure stepped through the doorway.

Annie.

She wore a tight pink dress and clutched a white bakery box against her chest. She looked around the entryway, her eyes wide with exaggerated awe.

"Oh, Jacob," she chirped, ignoring my presence entirely. "The ceilings are so high. You didn't tell me it was this spacious."

I stood up. The hardwood floor felt like ice against my bare feet.

"What is she doing here?" I asked.

Jacob sighed, rubbing his temples. "She was upset, Sophia. I brought her here to calm her down. She just wanted to see where I live."

"Where we live," I corrected, my voice dangerously low.

Annie stepped closer to him, sliding her hand down his arm. "He told me he's getting the papers drawn up today. So it’s mostly his house now, right?"

I stared at her. Twenty-one. Flawless skin, bright eyes, overflowing with unearned confidence.

She held up the bakery box, a sickly sweet smile stretching across her face.

"Jacob bought me cake," she announced. "I mentioned I was craving something sweet, and he bought every single blueberry slice they had at the bakery. He’s so attentive."

My stomach turned.

"Blueberry," I repeated.

"Yes," Annie said, popping the cardboard lid open to reveal four messy slices of bright purple cake. "He said you might want some too. To smooth things over."

I shifted my gaze to Jacob. He refused to meet my eyes, opting to stare at the coat rack instead.

"I despise blueberries, Jacob," I said. "They make me gag. You’ve known that for ten years."

He flinched. A tiny, almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw.

"It's just cake, Sophia," he muttered. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm not," I replied.

A strange, hollow laugh escaped my throat. The sound startled even me. I wasn't angry anymore. The fiery rage from an hour ago had completely burned out, leaving nothing but cold ash.

Annie pouted, leaning her weight against Jacob’s side. "Well, if she’s going to be ungrateful, we can just eat it upstairs. Show me the master suite, baby."

"Annie, maybe we should stay down here," Jacob suggested weakly.

"But I want to see your bed," she whined, tugging on his lapel.

I didn't scream. I didn't throw anything. I simply walked over to the hall closet and pulled out my wool coat.

"Go ahead," I told her, slipping my arms into the sleeves. I grabbed my purse from the console table. "I haven't washed the sheets yet. You might find a wet spot on his side."

Annie’s face flushed bright red.

Jacob snapped his head toward me. "Sophia, where are you going at this hour?"

"Out," I said.

"Don't be dramatic. Just go to the guest room."

"Enjoy the cake," I told him.

I walked out the front door, pulling it shut behind me.

Through the frosted glass, I watched their blurred silhouettes. Annie wrapped her arms around his neck. Jacob hesitated for only a second before leading her toward the staircase. They ascended together, disappearing into the upper floor of my home.

The freezing night air bit at my cheeks. I marched down the driveway and climbed into my car, slamming the door shut.

My phone lit up in my purse.

The screen displayed my father's name. Again.

I answered it, putting it on speaker as I jammed my key into the ignition.

"I'm here, Dad."

"Sophia, have you really thought this through?" John asked. His voice carried a heavy, oppressive weight. "The Walton family won't allow you to back out once you agree."

I turned the heater on max. Warm air blasted against my frozen fingers.

"I've thought it through," I said.

"You are throwing your life away," he pressed. "Carl Walton is a dead man walking. You know this, right?"

"I know he was in a car crash a year ago," I replied, shifting the car into reverse.

"He's paralyzed from the waist down," my father argued. "The doctors say his organs are failing. He hasn't left the Walton estate in twelve months. People say he looks like a monster."

"I don't care what people say."

"His mother is desperate, Sophia. Mrs. Walton isn't looking for a wife for him. She's looking for an incubator."

I hit the brakes, pausing at the end of the driveway. I looked back at the house. The bedroom light clicked on upstairs. Jacob and Annie.

"She wants an heir before he dies," I stated flatly.

"Exactly," John said. "She approached me because our business is struggling. She knows we need the capital. But I won't force my daughter to marry a dying cripple just to secure funding."

"Jacob is divorcing me, Dad."

Silence stretched over the line.

"He's filing the papers tomorrow morning," I continued, my voice steady. "He brought his twenty-one-year-old mistress into our home tonight. He told me he'd keep funding your supply chain, but only as a bribe to keep me quiet."

My father cursed under his breath. "That bastard."

"I refuse to owe him anything," I said, gripping the steering wheel. "If I marry Carl Walton, the Walton family invests in your company, right?"

"They will buy out all our debts," John confirmed. "But Sophia, you will be tied to a dying man. You will have to bear his child."

"Better a dying man than a lying one."

"Are you absolutely certain?"

I watched the silhouette of Annie moving across the bedroom window blinds. She was taking her dress off.

"Tell Mrs. Walton I accept," I said. "I'll sign whatever she wants."

"She wants it done immediately," John warned. "She expects you at the Walton estate tomorrow at noon. No grand wedding. Just a private signing of the marriage certificate."

"I'll be there."

"Sophia..." My father hesitated. "Carl doesn't know."

My brow furrowed. "Doesn't know what?"

"He refuses to see anyone. He threw his last nurse down the stairs. Mrs. Walton is doing this behind his back. When you walk into his room tomorrow, you'll be a complete stranger to him."

"I can handle a stranger."

"He's violent, Sophia. The crash destroyed his mind as much as his body."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Dad."

I hung up the phone.

I threw the car into drive and sped away from the house I had spent ten years turning into a home.

Jacob thought he could discard me. He thought he held all the power because he controlled the money.

He had no idea what I was about to do.

But as I drove through the empty, dark streets, a cold knot formed in my stomach. The rumors about Carl Walton were terrifying. They called him the beast of the Walton estate.

Tomorrow, I would walk right into his cage.

"Take it off, Sophia."

Eleanor crossed her arms, standing like a sentinel in the center of the grand dining room.

I touched the cold ruby resting against my collarbone.

"It's a family heirloom," my mother-in-law continued, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. "Reserved for the women who actually carry the Miller bloodline forward. Five years of marriage, and you’ve given us nothing."

I unclasped the gold chain. The metal slipped from my skin into my palm. I held it out.

Eleanor snatched it, inspecting the stone before dropping it into her velvet pocket.

"I came for family dinner to formally say goodbye," I told her.

"Good. Save us the trouble of changing the locks." Eleanor adjusted her silk shawl. "A barren woman has no place in this house anyway."

The heavy oak front door swung open. Loud, cheerful laughter spilled into the foyer.

Jacob walked in, his hand resting securely on the small of Annie’s back. She wore a fitted white sundress, glowing under the crystal chandelier.

Eleanor gasped, her stern face instantly melting into a wide, ecstatic grin. "Jacob! And who is this lovely girl?"

"Mom, this is Annie," Jacob announced. He didn't even flinch when he noticed me standing by the dining table. "We wanted to share some news."

Annie stepped forward, placing both hands over her flat stomach. "I'm pregnant, Mrs. Miller."

The room buzzed with sudden, electric energy.

"A baby?" Eleanor shrieked. She rushed forward, pulling the twenty-one-year-old into a tight, suffocating hug. "Oh, thank God. Finally, a grandchild."

I watched the display in absolute silence. My stomach tightened, a strange, dull ache settling low in my pelvis. I ignored it.

Jacob finally shifted his gaze to me. "You shouldn't be here, Sophia."

"I came to return the necklace," I replied.

"She gave it back," Eleanor snapped, turning her glare back on me. The warmth vanished from her eyes. "Now get out. This is a family celebration. You don't belong here anymore."

Annie pouted, leaning her head against Jacob's shoulder. "Is she going to cause a scene, baby? I don't want the stress to hurt our baby."

"No one is causing a scene," Jacob assured her, kissing her temple. He pointed toward the door. "Leave, Sophia."

I didn't argue. I grabbed my purse from the credenza.

As I passed Jacob, he leaned in. "I told you I'd handle things."

"You handled them perfectly," I muttered.

I walked out, pulling the door shut on their joyous cheers.

The wind bit through my thin coat. I marched down the cracked sidewalk, clutching my phone to my ear. The streetlights flickered overhead, casting long, lonely shadows on the pavement.

"Chloe, pick up," I whispered.

The line connected. "Sophia? It's freezing out. Why are you calling?"

"Can I sleep on your couch tonight?"

"Of course. What happened?"

A sudden, agonizing cramp ripped through my abdomen. I doubled over, gasping.

"Sophia?" Chloe asked. "Are you okay?"

"I—"

Liquid warmth rushed down my thighs. I looked down. Drops of dark red splattered onto the gray concrete.

Pain flared again, blindingly sharp.

The phone slipped from my fingers, shattering on the ground. The streetlights blurred, spinning into darkness as my knees hit the pavement.

The harsh smell of antiseptic woke me.

White ceiling tiles. The steady, rhythmic beep of a heart monitor.

A doctor stood at the foot of the bed, scribbling on a clipboard.

"Mrs. Miller?" he asked, looking up.

"Sophia," I corrected, my throat scratchy and dry. "Just Sophia. What happened?"

He sighed, lowering his pen. "A pedestrian found you unconscious on the street. You suffered a severe hemorrhage."

I tried to sit up, but a dull, heavy ache grounded me. "Why am I bleeding?"

"You had a miscarriage," the doctor stated softly. "You were six weeks pregnant."

The words hung in the sterile air.

"Pregnant?" I repeated.

"I'm very sorry. The stress, the cold... your body couldn't sustain it."

He set a box of tissues on the bedside table and quietly exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Six weeks.

I stared at the blank wall. Jacob and I had tried for years. We went to clinics. We tracked temperatures. Nothing worked.

And now, right when he discarded me for a pregnant mistress, I lost the child I never even knew I had.

A laugh bubbled up my throat. It sounded broken, completely unhinged.

Then the tears came.

I curled onto my side, clutching the thin hospital blanket, and sobbed until my ribs threatened to crack. I cried for the wasted years, for the humiliation, for the tiny life that vanished before it began.

A mechanical whirring sound interrupted my grief.

Rubber wheels rolled over the linoleum floor.

I wiped my wet face, turning toward the doorway.

A man guided a sleek, motorized wheelchair into the room.

My father’s warnings rushed back. *A dead man walking. A monster.*

The man before me was no monster.

He possessed broad, powerful shoulders straining against a tailored navy suit. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, framing striking, intelligent gray eyes. Thick dark hair swept neatly off his forehead. He looked incredibly healthy, exuding an intense, quiet authority.

Only his legs remained motionless beneath the dark fabric of his trousers.

Carl Walton.

He stopped the chair right beside my bed.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin. "Who let you in here?"

Carl offered a polite, gentle smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but it softened his imposing features.

"The nurses are quite accommodating when you own the hospital," he replied. His voice was deep, smooth, carrying a calm cadence.

"You're supposed to be locked in an estate," I said.

"Rumors often exaggerate my confinement," Carl noted. He reached out, offering a crisp, white handkerchief.

I ignored it. "You don't know me."

"I know John's daughter agreed to marry me," he countered, resting his hand back on his armrest. "I know she signed the preliminary papers an hour before collapsing on the street."

"Your mother arranged it."

"My mother is meddlesome," Carl agreed. "But she is also efficient. I wasn't aware of her scheme until my security team flagged the contract."

I gripped the sheets tighter. "Are you here to cancel it?"

He tilted his head, studying my tear-streaked face. "Do you want me to?"

"I need the investment for my father's company."

"And I need a wife to stop my mother from parading candidates through my home."

"So we use each other," I stated.

"Exactly." Carl leaned forward slightly. "I heard about the divorce. I heard about the miscarriage."

I flinched. "Word travels fast."

"I make it my business to know everything about the people entering my life." He finally placed the handkerchief on the edge of my mattress. "You have lost a great deal today, Sophia."

"I don't need your pity, Mr. Walton."

"I don't offer pity." His gray eyes locked onto mine, burning with a sudden, fierce intensity. "I offer a partnership. You walked away from a man who treated you like an option. Marry me, and you will never be an option again."

I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"My fiancée," Carl said, his tone shifting into something protective and absolute. "From now on, I will protect you."

A young nurse rushed into the room, breaking the heavy tension.

"Mr. Walton, sir," she stammered, holding a ringing phone against her chest. "It's your mother. She found out you left the estate. And... Jacob Miller is in the lobby. He's demanding to see his wife."

Carl didn't look away from me. He didn't even blink.

"Tell Mr. Miller his wife is dead," Carl ordered the nurse. "Tell him my fiancée is resting."