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."

Ryan's smile faltered. A flicker of tension crossed his face as he gently placed his hand on Harper's lower belly.

"Why does your stomach hurt? Don't tell me… you're actually pregnant?" His eyes held a trace of surprise—and something else, a fleeting joy that surfaced too quickly for even him to catch.

"You should lie down and rest. We'll go to the hospital tomorrow and check it out."

Harper shook her head, her emotions tangled in silence. "Maybe I'm just tired. I want to take a few days and really rest."

Ryan frowned slightly but nodded. "I'll go heat up some milk."

It was a small habit of hers since childhood, something that once made her feel cared for—proof that she was loved, in her own quiet way.

But ever since she discovered he'd slipped sleeping pills into her milk, even that faint warmth had evaporated.

As soon as he left, she picked up her phone, fingers trembling slightly. Sure enough, a friend request had come through.

Her eyes locked onto the name: Fiancé.

Harper bit her lip.

So pushy, she thought. They weren't even close to being engaged.

She hovered over the "accept" button, still hesitating, when a call from Gabe lit up her screen.

"Harper, that George's son is flying in tomorrow. Come home and have dinner with us."

Tomorrow? Hadn't they said it would be another week?

She frowned. "I already have plans."

Her father, mistaking her excuse for a brush-off, sounded displeased. "He pushed aside a whole bunch of things just to come back early. He's taking this seriously—you should too!"

His words made her pause. Her heart stirred, just a little.

"Dad, I really do have other plans."

Her university class president was getting married. A bunch of old classmates were meeting up to hit the bar—one last wild night before he settled down.

Gabe didn't push. He figured it'd look bad for her to seem antisocial in front of her friends.

But once Harper arrived and got dragged into the VIP booth, she regretted it.

Ryan was there. And so was Olivia. Along with that same group of spoiled, arrogant heirs she'd seen too many times before.

Had she known they'd be here, she would've gone home to meet her so-called fiancé instead.

The bar was already buzzing, alcohol thick in the air.

"Come on, let's play a game!"

They pulled her over, hands on her shoulders and arms, pressing a can of dice into her hands.

"Loser either drinks three shots or kisses someone!"

The cheers and laughter grew louder, wild and unfiltered.

Olivia lost the first round. Her face twisted in mock frustration.

"Ugh. I caught a cold recently, took some meds… I really can't drink."

But the others howled like wolves.

"Kiss! Kiss! Olivia, pick me!"

"You? Dream on. If she's picking someone, it's gotta be Ryan."

Instantly, all eyes turned to Ryan.

"Hey, cut it out," someone laughed nervously. "He's a clean freak—hates being touched. We're lucky he even showed up tonight. Don't scare him off."

Olivia's cheeks flushed. She turned slightly toward him.

"Ryan… can I pick you?"

Harper's hands curled tightly in her lap, her eyes fixed on Ryan.

Across the chaotic blur of people, their gazes met.

She wanted to know too—what would he say, right here in front of her?

And then, she had her answer.

Ryan's lips curved into a lazy smile. He looked down at Olivia, his gaze soft.

"My pleasure."

The room exploded into whoops and whistles, drowning out the music.

Harper's ears rang with it. Her chest tightened.

Everything around her slowed—like watching a painful memory in slow motion, crystal clear and inescapable.

Olivia wrapped her arm around his, moving in with flushed cheeks and shy boldness.

Just as their lips were about to meet, Ryan suddenly looked up.

And what he saw made his heart skip.

Harper wasn't flustered. Wasn't angry.

Her eyes—usually soft and easily stirred by him—were still and deep, like water left undisturbed in a shadowed well.

Quiet. Cold.

At the very last second, Ryan turned his head.

Olivia's kiss landed awkwardly at the corner of his mouth.

The dim lighting helped. No one noticed the shift. They were all too caught up in the thrill, the laughter.

Only Olivia's smile wavered for a second. She dipped her head, feigning shyness, hiding the flicker of disappointment in her eyes.

Next round, the loser was Harper.

She frowned.

"I'm allergic to alcohol…"

The boys around Ryan booed loudly.

"Olivia said she couldn't drink either and now you've got a reason too? That's just copying her—how lame."

"Fine, then pick someone to kiss."

Harper glanced around, her face going pale.

There wasn't a single person here she'd even consider getting close to.

One guy's eyes lit up with mischief. He slid up beside her and slung an arm around her shoulders.

"Harper, how about me? I'm a damn good kisser, promise I'll blow your mind."

The stench of alcohol hit her skin like rot. Harper's scalp tingled in panic—she shoved at him, struggling to break free.

But he held fast, his grip like a vice.

Heart racing, Harper instinctively looked to Ryan.

He knew she was allergic to alcohol. He knew.

He had just accepted Olivia's kiss so easily. Was it really so hard for him to show a little decency and get her out of this?

Someone laughed crudely. "What's she looking at Ryan for? Want to kiss him too?"

"Please. Everyone knows the Delgado and Sullivan families are enemies. If she's still clinging to him, that's some next-level pathetic."

Ryan's gaze darkened. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

He took a sip of wine, calm and unbothered, watching the scene like it was nothing more than entertainment. He said nothing.

At that moment, Harper's hands stopped struggling. They simply… dropped.

They were right.

She really was pathetic.

Falling in love with the son of her family's greatest rival. Still harboring hope—even now.

The taunts, the humiliation—they stung. But it was Ryan's silence, his passive watching from the sidelines, that broke her.

That severed the last rope holding her above the drop.

Tears slipped silently down her cheeks.

She gave up.

Just as that greasy mouth was about to land on Harper's lips, Ryan's eyes darkened. He finally set down his wine glass, ready to put an end to this farce.

Before he could even open his mouth, Harper suddenly doubled over and vomited a sour stream of bile.

The man trying to take advantage of her turned pale and let go immediately. But Harper, face ashen, kept dry heaving, unable to stop.

The crowd finally sensed that something was wrong.

"Did she eat something bad?"

"No… this feels more like—pregnancy?"

Ryan shot to his feet. The glass in his hand shattered against the floor, splashing shards and wine all over Olivia's leg.

"Harper! Are you really… pregnant?"

He didn't care at all about the mess. He rushed forward, pulling her into his arms. There wasn't a trace of the neat freak in him now.

Harper instinctively cradled her stomach, her lips trembling.

"I think… my period's been late for a while."

Ryan swept her into his arms, barely containing the smile tugging at his lips.

"You guys keep playing. I'm taking her to the hospital!"

He tossed out the words and bolted from the bar like the wind, not sparing a glance at anyone's reaction.

The people left behind stared after them, bewildered.

"Harper's feeling unwell, but why's Ryan so worked up about it?"

"Weren't they supposed to hate each other? Like, hardcore hate?"

The second-generation heirs all exchanged strange looks. Their faces wore the same complicated expression.

Seeing Olivia sitting there alone, looking crushed, they quickly gathered around her.

"Olivia, don't be sad. Even if Harper is really pregnant, Ryan would never marry her!"

"Exactly! Ryan said it himself—back in our graduation year, when Gabe bullied you, he only went after Harper to get revenge for you!"

Everyone tried to comfort her with a chorus of half-truths and reassurances, but Olivia's smile was clearly forced.

Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, her face falling even further. Mumbling something about getting fresh air, she stepped into a quiet corner.

"I told you I'd transfer the money," she snapped.

The voice on the other end was sleazy and mocking. "Well, you're taking too damn long. The guys I owe don't believe in patience."

A dark look clouded Olivia's eyes. She said she'd take care of it soon.

"You better. Or I'll start selling those wild videos of you with all those different men."

Her hand trembled as she hung up, the rage pulsing in her chest.

She had always aimed for a rich man, but somehow, she'd fallen for a fake.

Years abroad—nothing to show for it.

She thought she could circle back and snag Ryan. But now Harper was pregnant.

He kept denying any feelings, but Olivia wasn't fooled. She had long noticed that his supposed coldness toward Harper wasn't as absolute as he claimed.

Once the child was born… blood would speak louder than denial. Who knew what he'd feel then?

Why else would he have bolted out of there like that—so panicked, so protective?

At the hospital, Harper's fingers drifted over the tiny form on the ultrasound screen.

Ryan pulled her close and kissed her.

"I'm going to be a dad!"

He looked at her, grinning. "Why so quiet? Are you that happy?"

Harper's heart was a tangle of confusion. A sudden thought popped into her mind.

"When… when did you stop using protection?"

Ryan blinked, then said after a beat, "Half a year ago, maybe?"

He chuckled. "Can you blame me? You always looked so blissed out in bed, you didn't even notice."

Harper lowered her hand. The strength drained from her limbs.

Ryan didn't notice a thing—he thought she was just tired and helped her lie down gently.

"The baby's just two months. Once things stabilize, let's tell your dad, okay?"

Harper opened her mouth but couldn't get any words out.

She had been prepared to leave quietly.

But the baby changed everything.

How could she explain this to her parents? And what about her fiancé?

Should she get rid of it in secret?

Her hand unconsciously rested on her lower abdomen, protective already.

The painful truth dawned on her—she couldn't do it. Couldn't bring herself to. This was her child.

With so much weighing on her mind, she barely slept at night. The pregnancy was already showing signs of instability.

These days, Ryan stayed home to care for her. The Delgado heir who couldn't tell scallions from garlic now learned to make soup and stew dishes under the housekeeper's guidance.

He even massaged her legs and soaked her feet.

Once, all of this would've seemed unbelievably sweet.

But now, watching his face full of tender joy, Harper only felt he was preparing—getting ready to one day hurt her without mercy.

There was no going back to the way things were.

"I said I'm not going out. Try bothering me again and see what happens." Ryan stood on the balcony, a cigarette between his fingers—unlit.

He said he was quitting for the baby.

"Come on, Ryan, don't tell us you're actually buying into this act?" The voices on the other end of the call groaned in disbelief.

"Don't tell us you've fallen for her just because of the kid. Are you actually thinking of marrying Harper? Olivia was heartbroken after you left that night!"

Ryan's smile faded a little.

Behind him, Harper had quietly appeared.

She spoke up. "If you want to go, go. No need to keep turning your friends down because of me."