Deanna's thoughts spun, her eyes narrowing as realization struck. Brody had been gone for two months before his death, always away for work, never once returning. So how was Talia suddenly expecting a child?

An unsettling suspicion took root—while Brody was absent, Jayden was the only man left in the house. The truth became glaringly obvious. Talia's child must be Jayden's. Their affair must have started long before, meaning Jayden's betrayal went deeper than she ever imagined.

Deanna's chest tightened, and she doubled over in a fit of coughing, unable to contain the rage inside her. Jayden once struggled with infertility, and it was only through her knowledge that he recovered. She had helped him, and yet the first thing he did after regaining his health was get his own sister-in-law pregnant.

A wave of fury threatened to consume her.

Across the room, Jayden's anger eclipsed even hers. He was well aware of his medical history and knew how much this baby meant to him. The possibility of losing the child sent him into a frenzy.

He snatched his phone, urgently dialing Dr. Quinn, then shot Deanna a look full of venom. "I never realized just how cruel you could be. You owe Talia, and you're going to pay for this!" He turned to the butler and scoffed, "Bring the whip!"

Breathless from the coughing, Deanna looked up at Jayden. The man she once loved had become a stranger, twisted by hate. The Spencer family's punishments were brutal—a hundred lashes, something no ordinary man could endure, let alone someone as frail as her. Jayden knew full well that her body might not survive, but he was bent on making her pay, no matter the cost.

Deanna was still piecing together her scattered thoughts when Jayden forced her down, pinning her to the cold floor. Within minutes, the butler returned, holding out a whip laced with vicious barbs.

A wave of terror washed over her. Jayden didn't hesitate. Ignoring everything they'd shared over three long years, he tied her hands and ankles, shoving her to her knees. The rough cords bit into her skin, leaving angry marks, and humiliation flooded her as she knelt, her heart fracturing with every second.

A phone camera was suddenly thrust in her direction.

Jayden's voice rang out, devoid of warmth. "Start recording. Talia will want to see this for herself once she's awake."

Hearing this, Deanna felt her blood run cold. Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "You're really willing to risk my life just to keep Talia happy?"

Jayden shot her a look filled with contempt. "Don't be so dramatic. We're not going to let you die."

A broken, humorless smile flickered across Deanna's lips. Maybe she wouldn't die, but this pain would make her wish for it. Was this the same Jayden who once claimed she was the most precious thing in his world? She could hardly believe it.

Suddenly, the crack of the whip shattered the air. Deanna met Jayden's eyes, her gaze no longer soft or loving, but burning with betrayal and rage.

Something in her stare made Jayden falter for a heartbeat. His hand slipped, and the whip landed at an angle, scraping across her back and tearing the skin.

The strike wasn't his hardest, and her bones stayed intact, but the agony sent shudders through her body.

Still, none of that compared to the devastation she felt inside.

She met Jayden's gaze directly, her voice shaky yet unwavering. "If I could do it all over again, I'd never have chosen you."

Jayden's breath caught in his throat. A strange chill crept through him. Had she somehow learned the truth? That couldn't be—he'd covered his tracks at every turn. There was no way she could have uncovered it.

His thoughts were cut short by a furious shout. "Brody, just what do you think you're doing to the next Mrs. Gordon?"

The words made Jayden's grip tighten around the handle of the whip, disbelief clouding his face. He stared at Deanna, bewildered. "Next Mrs. Gordon? Deanna, are you seriously thinking about marrying someone else?"

Blood dripped from Deanna's mouth as she pulled herself up, barely managing to stay upright with the help of the wall.

She wiped her lips clean, her eyes flashing with cold defiance. "What business is it of yours?"

Jayden froze, taking in her striking features—pale, yet still arresting. Reality crashed down on him. He was no longer her husband, just a brother-in-law. Even if she gave her heart to someone else, he had no right to interfere. Still, he couldn't shake the memory of how much she once loved him. How could she move on so quickly?

Paralyzed by panic and dread, Jayden couldn't muster the strength to do anything.

Seizing the moment, the man from the Gordon family shoved Jayden aside, moved swiftly to Deanna, and knelt down to untie the ropes binding her hands and feet.

Within moments, her wrists were raw and bleeding, every movement sending fresh jolts of pain up her arms.

Deanna's gratitude showed in her eyes as her rescuer introduced himself in a gentle tone. "Ms. Evans, my name is Blaine Lambert. I serve as Mr. Gerard Gordon's assistant."

While helping her, Blaine couldn't help but notice that, even battered and weakened, Deanna's beauty was undeniable. She'd be a striking match for Connor.

Only then did Jayden snap out of his daze. He noticed the sleek black card in Blaine's hand—no doubt a formal token from the Gordons. Seeing Deanna accept help from Blaine so calmly, Jayden had a hunch that she had truly resolved to remarry.

He stormed over, seizing Deanna's wrist so tightly she flinched. "Deanna, Jayden's funeral was barely eleven days ago and you're already moving on? Don't you care about the Spencer family's reputation? Don't you care about him at all?"

A bitter laugh escaped Deanna as she met his gaze, every word dripping with contempt. "He broke every promise he ever made to me!"

Jayden's face went pale, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't meet her eyes, so he turned on Blaine instead. "Mr. Lambert, you should leave. The Spencer family won't approve this marriage."

The warmth in Blaine's face disappeared. His eyes narrowed as he replied, "You don't approve? What's next—are you going to beat her to death?"

Jayden's features twisted in anger. He squeezed Deanna's wrist until she winced, but she tore her hand free.

Without hesitating, Deanna yanked off her wedding ring and hurled it at Jayden. The ring struck his cheek and left a thin, bloody mark. Her voice rang with finality. "Brody, from now on, I have nothing to do with your family anymore!"

Blaine glanced at Deanna with a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "Ms. Evans, are you ready to come to the Gordon Estate with me now?"

Jayden didn't even bother wiping away the blood on his cheek. His entire focus was fixed on Deanna, his Adam's apple bobbing with nerves.

He opened his mouth, struggling to find the right words, but Deanna's gentle reply cut him off before he could speak. "Yes, I'm ready. Thank you for coming."

The words struck Jayden like a blow. For the first time, he realized just how completely he had lost her.

Deanna never once looked back at Jayden as Blaine helped her into the car.

He stood frozen, unable to stop them. Part of him knew he had no claim on her anymore, and the other part understood that the Spencer family were powerless against the Gordons. Still, the finality of it all seemed unreal. Deanna had once loved him with her whole heart—how could she walk away so easily?

He stared down at the wedding ring Deanna had thrown at him, the same one he'd chosen for her himself. Even now, it still carried the delicate scent that reminded him of her.

As Deanna settled into the car, her last glimpse was of Jayden lowering his head, pressing the ring to his nose, trying to breathe in what little of her remained.

She slumped into the seat, pain radiating from her injuries, and let the bitter irony settle in her heart.

...

Upon arriving at the Gordon Estate, Deanna was ushered away to treat her wounds. When she reappeared, Gerard was already waiting for her in the living room.

Despite his age, Gerard radiated strength and authority. "I know it isn't easy, marrying a man who may never wake up. But you have my word—once you become part of the Gordon family, you'll be one of us, and we will stand behind you."

Deanna lowered her head, her eyes flickering with complex emotions. Gerard's words made it clear he understood the dangers she faced from Richard.

She lifted her gaze and offered a polite, composed smile. "Thank you. I understand."

Deanna usually radiated energy and warmth, but whenever she dialed up her sweetness, she could melt the hearts of elders in an instant.

Gerard studied her with open approval. Setting aside her delicate health, he found both her grace and her family background more than acceptable.

"You'll need to start getting used to Connor's presence, since you'll be his wife before long," Gerard muttered. "Tonight, you'll stay in his room."

The suggestion made Deanna's fingers tense for a moment, but she gave a demure nod and agreed.

With a wave of Gerard's hand, Blaine rose to guide Deanna down the hall.

She trailed after him, her steps obedient but her gaze unreadable. Gerard might have said this was to help her grow accustomed to Connor, but Deanna knew better. He wanted proof that she could handle caring for his grandson. If she failed the test, he'd likely call off the marriage entirely.

Her thoughts drifted until she realized they had stopped outside Connor's room.

Deanna slipped through the door, and the sight before her brought her to a stunned halt.

Sprawled across the soft bed was a man whose presence seemed to command the entire room. His features were sculpted and striking, with a quiet intensity that lingered even in sleep. Months of immobility hadn't stolen his appeal—he was only slightly more slender, his body still athletic beneath the sheets. If anything, the long rest had polished his looks to an impossible sheen. It almost felt unfair to call it beauty, but no other word fit; he looked like he'd been carved by the hand of an artist.

Catching Deanna's stunned expression, Blaine offered a satisfied nod. "Ms. Evans, allow me to formally present your fiance."

He paused, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Mr. Gerard Gordon is hoping to welcome a new member into the family to carry on the lineage. He's counting on you tonight, Ms. Evans."

A moment's hesitation seized Deanna. She knew her role here—she was meant to give Connor an heir—but wasn't Gerard being just a little too forward?

Keeping her voice even, Deanna lowered her eyes and replied quietly, "Understood. Thank you for letting me know."

While they exchanged words in low voices, neither noticed the slight twitch of the sleeping man's hand on the bed.

Blaine, looking thoroughly pleased with the arrangement, handed Deanna a discreet box. "Mr. Gerard wants to evaluate Connor's sperm motility. He's trusting you to collect it tonight."

Deanna's composure faltered. Was she truly supposed to collect Connor's sperm?

Deanna faltered, unsure, and Blaine caught her hesitation. With a polite smile, he asked, "Is there anything else you need, Ms. Evans?"

Color rushed to her cheeks as she snatched up the box and muttered, "No, that's all. I understand what's expected."

Satisfied, Blaine quietly excused himself, shutting the door with a soft click.

Left alone, Deanna stared down at the condoms in her hand, her teeth pressing into her lower lip.

Gaining acceptance in the Gordon family was shaping up to be far more complicated than she'd imagined. Gerard wasted no time in putting her to the test. Refusing wasn't even an option—without the Gordon family behind her, Richard would swallow her whole.

Deanna knew perfectly well that the marriage arrangement was all about producing an heir. At some point, she'd have to fulfill that expectation. Still...

Her eyes traveled to the man on the bed, breath catching at the thought of what was being asked of her, especially when they hadn't even exchanged a word.

Tension in the room wasn't hers alone. Had she pulled back the covers, she might have noticed the faint rigidity in the man's muscles.

Inside, Connor was reeling. When had he agreed to a fiancee? Gerard had tried to sneak women into his room before, but he'd always managed to send them packing—sometimes with threats, sometimes just with a steely look. Eventually, those attempts had stopped. So where had this new woman come from? And why had no one told him a thing?

Annoyance flickered through him, but all he could do was lie perfectly still. No matter what, he couldn't risk revealing he was awake.

Yes, Connor had been pretending all along—his coma was nothing but an act.

Watching Deanna hesitate, a sense of relief washed over him. From the softness in her voice, she didn't seem the type to do anything bold. He'd be safe for now—or so he thought.

Then, a delicate scent drifted to his nose, and the next thing he felt was the blanket slipping away. Warm, slender fingers slid beneath his shirt, gently tracing circles across his chest.

Every muscle in Connor's body tightened in surprise. He forced himself to stay completely still, steadying his breath so she wouldn't notice anything amiss.

Her hand lingered on his skin, pausing over his chest and running down to his abs, her touch exploring with increasing curiosity. Connor's physique, hardened from years of discipline, felt nothing like what she expected from a patient supposedly stuck in bed for so long.

The observation flashed through Deanna's mind, but she forced herself to focus. She had a task—gathering a sample was her only way to secure her place in this family. Any doubts or confusion could wait.

Deanna fumbled with the stubborn clasp of Connor's belt, leaning in so close that her breath stirred the air against his skin, making his throat move with uneasy anticipation.

Connor, who had never once allowed a woman this kind of access, was utterly unprepared for the jolt of sensation her touch brought. The moment she brushed against him, his composure nearly shattered, and his body responded in a way he couldn't hide.

A wave of heat rushed to Deanna's cheeks as her eyes fell on the evidence of his arousal beneath the fabric.

Her own experience was woefully lacking—three years of marriage meant little when Jayden had barely been home, leaving her unversed in even the basics of intimacy. Now, faced with her first real encounter, she found herself flustered and hesitant, nerves threatening to get the best of her.

As Deanna reached for his belt, she paused abruptly, picking up a strange, sweet scent clinging to Connor's skin. The aroma was dangerously alluring, like velvet petals hiding a hidden threat—so familiar it sent a chill through her. MistCore.

She'd encountered it before in her medical work, and only a blood test could confirm her suspicion.

Still, she reminded herself not to get caught up in the Gordon family's secrets. Frankly, if Connor didn't make it, her own path might actually become easier.

Forcing those thoughts away, Deanna focused on her task and finally undid his trousers.

Immediately, his body responded, leaving little to the imagination.

A small wave of relief swept over Deanna—she wouldn't have to do more than collect the needed sample. She doubted she had the nerve for anything beyond this.

Summoning her courage, she wrapped her hand gently around him.

The effect on Connor was instant. A riot of sensation erupted inside him, nearly dragging a sound from his lips.

Try as he might to keep steady, his breathing grew ragged, betraying the storm inside.

But as Deanna stopped in the middle of her task, Connor's anxiety flared. Had she sensed something was wrong? Was his secret at risk?