The morning after their night together, Harper Sullivan froze with a sudden, sickening realization—Ryan Delgado hadn't used protection.

Fear coiled tight in her chest, sharp and suffocating. But Ryan just smirked, his voice smooth, teasing, as if this were some kind of game.

"Our families are enemies. A baby changes that. Your father would have to accept me. Then I could marry you—properly."

Heat rushed to her cheeks. She should have pushed him away, should have demanded answers—but his touch still burned through her resistance, and she gave in to him.

Then, like a knife to the ribs, she heard his friend's voice from the next room, laced with cruel amusement. "Ryan, that's genius. Get her pregnant, then dump her. Harper would never recover from the scandal. And her family? Total disgrace."

Ryan let out a cold, satisfied laugh. "Serves her right. She stole Olivia's spot as valedictorian, broke her heart, drove her overseas. I'll make sure she pays—this is for Olivia."

Harper's body went rigid. Three years. Three years of stolen moments, swallowed secrets, letting him touch her in the dark while her family believed her loyal. And it had all been a lie.

Rage and humiliation crashed over her, so violent she nearly choked on it.

Her phone buzzed in her trembling hand. Fighting back tears, she answered.

"Dad… I'll take the engagement."

"You didn't use one this time?"

Harper Sullivan sipped the warm milk in silence, her eyes falling to the floor where only one wrapper lay discarded. But tonight, Ryan Delgado had taken her three times.

Her face went pale.

"How… how could you forget? What if I end up pregnant?"

But Ryan didn't look the least bit worried. In fact, he smiled, reaching beneath the thin, sheer fabric that barely covered her.

"I did it on purpose," he whispered, biting softly at her earlobe, teasing. "If you get pregnant, I'll marry you. We'll have a grand wedding. I'll give you and our child a proper name. Even your dad will have to accept me. How about that?"

Harper's face flushed scarlet. She quickly covered his mouth before he could say anything more outrageous.

Ryan loved her most in this state—flustered, embarrassed, and just a little angry.

"Why are you always like this…"

He buried his face in the soft curve of her neck, inhaling deeply. His voice turned hoarse. "Let's stop using anything, alright? If you get pregnant, I'll finally have a reason to ask your father for your hand."

Something stirred in Harper's heart.

The Sullivan and Delgado families had been locked in a ruthless business rivalry for years. Yet she, always obedient and proper, had been secretly dating Ryan for three years behind her parents' backs.

Maybe… if she had a child, her parents' hearts might finally soften.

Sleepiness crept in like a tide. She drifted off, barely conscious.

But it didn't last. A sharp, twisting pain in her stomach jolted her awake. She stumbled to the bathroom and vomited up all the milk she had just drunk.

From the living room, a voice rang out, casual and cruel. "You really plan to knock Harper up and then marry her, huh, Ryan?"

Ryan lit a cigarette. His phone was on speaker.

"The first part, yeah. But marry her? Please. Not a chance. As soon as the baby's born, I'm tossing her aside."

Harper felt like she was living a nightmare. But the pain in her thigh, where she pinched herself hard—pain sharp and real—told her this was no dream.

Laughter erupted from the phone, unrestrained and mocking.

"Getting dumped by your family's mortal enemy while pregnant out of wedlock? Harper's reputation is done for! No one'll touch her again! And that old con Gabe—bet he'll have a stroke when he finds out his grandchild's got Delgado blood running in their veins. Serves him right!"

Amid the laughter, one voice cut through, jarring and out of place. "Isn't it a little much to drag an innocent girl into this just to get back at Gabe?"

That was the question Harper had been asking herself too.

Three years ago, she had gone to a bar with classmates to celebrate graduation. By mistake, she drank a spiked drink. A group of drunk men dragged her into a private room and started tearing at her clothes.

Ryan had burst in just in time and beat them senseless.

Her mind was a haze. She clung to him, desperate, begging for him.

When she woke and saw who it was—Ryan—and then saw the marks all over her body, she had wanted to die from the shame.

"Don't worry," he had said, "No one else will ever know about this. Not even your father."

She'd looked up, startled.

So he knew who she was all along. Then why save her?

If she had really been ruined that night, the Delgado family would've had the perfect card to play.

"I've been watching the Sullivan family for years. I just didn't expect to fall for you." He had wrapped her in his shirt.

"I've got a thing about cleanliness. I don't even like brushing against strangers. But with you… I lost all control."

The look in his eyes—part exasperation, part deep affection—had captured her heart.

But Ryan's cold snort pulled her back to the present.

"Innocent? Don't make me laugh… At the graduation ceremony, Harper just had to be the center of attention. Her dad pulled strings to kick Olivia out of her valedictorian speech! When Olivia confronted them, Gabe humiliated her. She cried for an entire day and ended up going abroad. That night, I staged my little rescue act at the bar. That was the start of my revenge."

The truth hit harder than she could have imagined.

Even the beginning—their so-called fateful encounter—had been a calculated move.

She was still sore, her body aching from the night's passion. But now, everything spun around her. She nearly collapsed.

Ryan looked up sharply, eyes scanning the corner.

No one was there.

Still, a frown tugged at his brow.

Then he remembered—the milk. He'd laced it with sleeping pills.

Relaxing, he let it go.

Harper covered her mouth and quietly retreated to the bedroom.

Only once she collapsed on the bed did the tears finally fall.

Her phone buzzed. The screen lit up with one word: Dad

"Harper, sweetie, George's son is coming back from abroad in a week. This time, you have to accept the family engagement with the Dawsons. You've been out there for years and haven't even dated anyone. If you're satisfied with him, let's go ahead and get engaged."

Because of Ryan's background, Harper had lied to her parents for years, pretending she was single.

She'd given him everything—her heart, her body, everything—hoping their love would grow strong enough that he'd eventually bow his head to her father.

In the end, she was the only fool in the show.

Swallowing her sobs, Harper nodded to the phone.

"Dad, Mom… I've thought it through. I'm willing to go through with the engagement."

Gabe was elated.

"That's wonderful! I've already made plans with George to shift our business focus overseas. I was just worried you wouldn't want to leave. Now our whole family can stay together!"

The moment she heard footsteps, Harper ended the call.

The mattress dipped beside her. Ryan slipped his arms around her from behind and pulled her into his embrace. He pressed a soft kiss to the side of her ear.

Harper clenched her fists and pretended to be asleep.

She had to hand it to him. His acting really was seamless.

By the time she woke up again, daylight was streaming into the room.

A delicate slice of strawberry cake sat on the nightstand, pinning down a handwritten note.

[Baby, I've got a work dinner tonight. Left you your favorite dessert. Eat something first, then let the housekeeper make you a proper meal.]

Harper sat in silence, staring at Ryan's bold, flowing script.

Then her phone buzzed.

[Want to know what Ryan is doing right now? Come to Suite 8 at Drunken Night.]

She sat still for a while, then rose, dressed, and asked the driver to take her to the address.

The moment she stepped out of the car, she saw across Drunken Night's giant LED screen flashed bright, celebratory letters: Welcome Home, Princess Olivia Sinclair!

She paused mid-step, then walked straight in.

The door to the suite was slightly ajar. Laughter and cheers rang out in bursts.

Seated next to Ryan was a beautiful woman in a white dress, long hair cascading down her back, looking pure and elegant.

Anyone who approached her with a drink was intercepted by Ryan—he drank every glass himself.

Olivia was her college classmate. They studied the same major.

For all four years, every test, every project—if Harper was there, Olivia could only ever come second.

The claim that Harper had "stolen" her spot as valedictorian? Ridiculous.

"Ryan, I heard you've been dating Harper for three years?"

Before he could answer, one of his friends cut in.

"Olivia, don't misunderstand Ryan. He's only doing this to get revenge on Harper—for you, of course."

"I can back that up. Remember last year, her birthday? Ryan said he'd handmade a gift, but 'accidentally' dropped it into the lotus pond? I've still got the pictures on my phone—look at her diving into that mud, digging like crazy for it. Doesn't she look like some kind of gorilla?"

Harper's whole body tensed. Her knuckles turned white against the doorknob.

She remembered it clearly. At the time, Ryan had spent nights carving the gift—his hands layered with fresh cuts over old scars.

She'd been so touched, so worried for him, she hadn't waited for professional divers. She jumped into that stinking, mosquito-infested mud herself.

The leeches had left her legs riddled with bloody holes. She never found it.

Now, Olivia let out a surprised gasp and pulled a necklace from beneath her collar.

"Ryan, this pendant you gave me last year—you carved it yourself?"

Ryan's gaze locked onto the pale curve of her collarbone, eyes flickering with surprise and delight.

"You've been wearing it all this time?"

Olivia smiled, lips gently pressed together. "When have I ever not taken care of something you gave me?"

After a whole year, Harper finally saw what that gift looked like.

It was beautiful.

Unfortunately, it was on someone else's neck.

Everyone gathered around the photos, laughing until their stomachs hurt, pointing and jeering.

Then someone noticed the figure at the door.

"H-Harper?"

Ryan's eyes narrowed. He shot to his feet. "Harper! When did you get here?"

She forced down the nausea rising in her chest and said calmly, "Just happened to be passing by."

He studied her expression closely. Not finding anything unusual, he visibly relaxed.

He reached out to pull her inside, but she stepped back, avoiding him.

"Don't want to interrupt your party."

His eyes darkened. "You heard something just now, didn't you?"

Harper bit down her sarcasm and gave a little smile. "Let's not forget—we never made our relationship public. If I walk in now, what am I supposed to be? Doesn't seem appropriate, does it?"

Without waiting to see his reaction, she turned and ran from Drunken Night.

The tears wouldn't stop coming.

The humiliation, the betrayal, the ridicule—it all hurt. But none of it compared to the pain delivered by the man who had once held her closest.

Everything was a blur. Then came the screech of tires.

A black car had lost control, and it was speeding straight toward her.

She froze. The danger was so sudden, so real, her body wouldn't move.

"Watch out!"

Ryan barreled into her, shielding her with his body as they rolled across the pavement.

The sharp scent of blood filled the air.

Harper trembled as she cradled Ryan's head in her arms, her voice shaking with panic.

Why?

Why, if he wanted to hurt her, did he throw himself in harm's way?

Had three years really melted some corner of his heart?

Ryan's lips were pale, his right arm twisted unnaturally. But all he cared about was her.

"Baby… are you okay?"

Harper, still in shock, shook her head. Just some scrapes.

Relieved, Ryan passed out on the spot.

The hospital report showed he had a few fractured bones and a mild concussion.

But when he couldn't eat without vomiting, Harper rushed home to make soup.

Halfway there, she realized she'd forgotten her phone and turned back.

She opened the hospital room door—and froze.

A group of playboy friends were huddled around his bed.

"How about that fake blood pack, huh? Worked like a charm! The doctor's one of us too."

"Hahaha, did you see Harper shaking? She was so panicked she got cold sores from the stress! Hilarious!"

The bandage on Ryan's head was gone. His forehead was smooth and unscathed.

His "fractured" arm? Perfectly fine, busy picking up food.

"Who told you idiots to call her over today? I nearly thought she figured it out. Guess not."

"Relax, that dumb girl's been played by you so many times. Even if she did suspect something, she's so hung up on you, the real problem would be getting her to leave!"

Harper stared at Ryan's perfectly unscathed body, the chill in her chest sinking to the marrow.

She had been blaming herself, thinking it was her fault for spacing out and not watching the road—believing that was why Ryan got hurt.

But no. This whole charade, this pitiful act, had been orchestrated by him all along.

Three years of love. What part of it had ever been real?

She didn't dare believe anything anymore.

Turning away, she didn't even bother to grab her phone.

Back at the villa, Harper didn't make any soup. Instead, she began packing.

The things that were hers, she boxed up to mail back home. The things he gave her—she threw them all away.

Even looking at them made her stomach turn.

Who knew what kind of tricks were behind those gifts? Photos secretly taken, shared with others for a laugh?

As she packed, she realized just how many memories they'd accumulated over the past three years.

Every single thing—kept by her with care, in perfect, untouched condition.

A loud noise echoed from downstairs—the door being thrown open.

Harper quickly hid the suitcase, and just as she was about to leave the bedroom, she ran straight into a chest.

It was Ryan. He was breathing hard, sweat glistening at his temple from running, his face dark and unreadable.

In his left hand, he held her phone. His voice was low and tense. "Why haven't you gone back to the hospital yet? It's already evening."

His expression grew colder.

"What's this friend request? The note said it's from your fiancé."

Harper froze. Then quickly looked down, masking her face.

"Fiancé? I don't have one. They must've added the wrong person."

Ryan studied her closely, clearly still suspicious.

"Then why did you change your phone's password? It used to be my birthday."

A silent sigh of relief passed through her.

Thank god she'd changed it yesterday after waking up. The last thing she wanted now was for him to find something and make a scene.

After a pause, she put on an innocent expression. "I thought about it… using your birthday wasn't a great idea. What if someone figured it out?"

His eyes clouded over. "So what if they do? At most, we go public."

Harper looked at him in disbelief.

She'd hinted at it before—carefully, cautiously—and each time, he shut her down without hesitation.

Three years of dating, all in secret. Most of their 'dates' had taken place in hotel rooms, in the same bed.

"Baby, just bear with it for now. One day, we'll be together for good… grow old together," he'd whispered.

It was that dream of growing old together that had kept her going. That one line had made all the secrecy feel worth it.

But now—now he says this?

Harper gave a small smile, sharp with irony.

"What's gotten into you lately? You've been so paranoid. Don't you know how much I love you? Have I ever lied to you? Ever messed around with someone else?"

She was beautiful, kind, from a prestigious family—never lacking admirers. In the three years she'd been with Ryan, more men had come chasing than she could count. But she never entertained any of them. She'd always been clear—always firm.

No one should know that better than Ryan.

Sure enough, his expression softened.

He pulled her into a one-armed hug, guiding her toward the bed.

"It's because so many people are after you. I get jealous."

As he spoke, his fingers had already undone the top three buttons of her blouse, brushing against her smooth skin.

Harper panicked, her face flushing as she grabbed his hand to stop him.

"You—! You're still injured!"

He seemed to take her words as concern and smiled, flipping over to lie back.

"It's fine. Baby, just climb on… move for me. Think of it as repaying me for saving your life."

Her face paled. Her shoulders trembled.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could someone say something so shameless?

He hadn't been injured. The rescue had been staged. And now he was using it to coax her into bed?

There was no love here. Only desire, physical and consuming.

For the first time in three years, Harper said no.

"I can't… my stomach hurts."