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."