Exhaustion weighed on Isabella's slender body after the relentless night.

From one moment to the next, the man had shifted her position—turning her onto her stomach, and then onto her back—treating her fragile frame as if it belonged entirely to him. Despite the tremor in her legs and the dull ache that left her nearly limp, she swallowed every protest, not daring to push back against the man she was meant to marry—a stranger who still felt unfamiliar in every way.

Morning light seeped quietly into the room. When her eyes fluttered open, Isabella found the man still asleep beside her. Freed from the cover of darkness, she gathered her courage and carefully studied the man she had believed to be Nathaniel.

The instant her gaze settled on his face, Alexander's eyes snapped open.

Caught off guard, Isabella jerked back in alarm, her bare leg brushing against his. Heat rushed to her cheeks as fragments of the night returned in a dizzying flood, leaving her flustered and unable to meet his eyes.

Only then did Alexander truly take her in.

Her small, delicate face looked almost too pale beneath the soft morning light, the faint flush coloring her cheeks betraying both fear and lingering embarrassment. Her damp eyes stared at him, startled and unguarded.

A flicker of doubt crossed his mind—Natalie Brown was supposed to be twenty-five, yet the woman in front of him looked far too young, almost fragile in comparison.

Intending to lay out the terms clearly, he composed himself, lowered his voice, and said, "You should already understand why this marriage was arranged."

Before he could continue, Isabella rushed to cut him off, her voice trembling. "I know, Nathaniel. I… I'll try my best to get pregnant."

Something darkened in his gaze. "Nathaniel?" he repeated, his tone sharpening.

"Y-yes…"

At once, the atmosphere around Alexander dropped several degrees, an icy tension settling over the room.

Back in the pitch-black haze of the night before, he had already felt that something wasn't right. She had been far too timid—nothing like the sweet, composed Natalie his mother had described.

Alcohol had dulled his senses before, and the yielding warmth of her body had pulled his attention away from the inconsistencies he ought to have noticed.

"Who exactly are you?" Authority weighed heavily in his tone, cold and unmistakable.

Startled by the sudden shift, Isabella's body trembled as she stammered, "I… I'm Isabella Brown…"

"You're not Natalie Brown?" he asked, his voice dropping to an even colder register. "So you're the Brown family's second daughter…"

Moisture gathered in Isabella's eyes as panic tightened her chest, and she nodded weakly, fear written all over her pale face.

A sudden realization struck her—this man wasn't Nathaniel at all, but her would-be brother-in-law, Alexander.

Everything had gone horribly wrong.

An icy pressure radiated off Alexander, suffocating in its intensity.

Curled tightly beneath the rumpled sheets, Isabella trembled as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

Fragments from the night before flickered through Alexander's mind—her clumsy, inexperienced responses, the faint, broken sounds she'd made, and the way her eyes had brimmed with tears at dawn.

Of course… no wonder something had felt off. She'd been far too timid, too fragile. The truth settled in with brutal clarity—the sisters had been switched, placed with the wrong men… And he had taken the wrong woman.

And Nathaniel and Natalie…

Pressing two fingers to his aching temples, Alexander fixed a dark, unreadable look on the girl curled up on the bed, her narrow shoulders still trembling with helpless sobs.

"Stay here. Don't leave this room unless I say so."

His words scared Isabella so badly her crying cut off at once. With her eyes wet and red and the tip of her nose flushed pink, she looked heartbreakingly small.

Without another word, Alexander turned and strode out of the bedroom, phone already in hand as he called Nathaniel.

...

Elsewhere, Nathaniel was jolted awake by the shrill ring of his phone in the early morning. He cast a lazy glance at the woman beside him, still turned away with her back to him, before answering the call. "Who is this?" His voice was rough with sleep and obvious irritation.

A faint disturbance pulled Natalie out of sleep.

Rolling onto her side, she winced slightly, the lingering ache in her muscles making itself known with every small movement.

Never had she imagined a man in his thirties could still possess such relentless stamina.

Almost unconsciously, her hand drifted to rest over her lower abdomen, her fingers pressing lightly as quiet certainty settled in her mind—within three months, she would be pregnant… assuming there was nothing wrong with him.

Everything hinged on that child. Once she carried Alexander's child, love or no love would no longer matter; her place as his wife in the Evans family would be secured, giving her the power she needed to shield Isabella.

With that foundation in place, even if Isabella failed and was sent back to the Brown family, Natalie believed she could still speak to Alexander—soften him, persuade him—until he agreed to bring Isabella back under his protection.

Nathaniel's voice cut cleanly through her spiraling thoughts, low and almost amused. "Come again? I ended up sleeping with my sister-in-law?"

The sentence hit Natalie like a sudden bolt of thunder.

A soft laugh slipped from Nathaniel's lips, casual and unconcerned. "Not exactly my sister-in-law though—you guys haven't registered the marriage yet. We can just switch back." With an easy tone, he added, "You don't have a problem with that, do you, Alex?"

Once the call ended, Natalie pushed herself upright, fingers tightening around the blanket.

Reclining against the headboard, Nathaniel remained bare-chested and utterly at ease, his sharp gaze lingering on the woman beside him as he quietly took her in.

The whole situation felt surreal, almost laughably absurd. He hadn't been particularly interested in the woman his mother had chosen for him, but this kind of mix-up crossed into something ridiculous.

That explained why Natalie had seemed so fearless the night before—her unexpected boldness had even caught him off guard.

Memories of that night surfaced in both Nathaniel's and Natalie's minds, sharp and unmistakable.

When Nathaniel had pushed open the bedroom door, his mother's warning still lingered in his ears—"Don't be too rough, and don't scare the girl… She's only twenty."

Despite that gentle reminder, a rebellious streak had stirred in him, a quiet impulse to do exactly the opposite.

She was only twenty—young, likely sheltered, and utterly inexperienced, he thought.

Across the dimly lit room, Natalie sat composed and unflinching, her quiet confidence stirring a flicker of playful curiosity in him.

A crooked hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he asked, almost lazily, "Do you even understand why you're here?"

For a brief beat, Natalie stilled. Then, weighing Alexander's age and experience, she assumed he'd long grown used to women putting on sweet and innocent acts—there was no point in pretending to be coy now.

Meeting his gaze head-on, she answered without hesitation, "I'm here to have sex with you."

Nathaniel's brow lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face when he realized she was already aware of it.

A low chuckle slipped from his throat as he leaned back, unable to make out her features in the darkness, though her slim silhouette was unmistakable.

"So, if we're doing this, at least try to make it worth my while first."

Before the last word had fully left his lips, she shifted forward, settling onto his lap with a sudden decisiveness that caught Nathaniel off guard, her fingers already moving to his belt. Shock flashed through his eyes for a split second before it melted into a slow, intrigued smile, clearly entertained by her unexpected boldness.

He cleared his throat softly, steadying his tone as he added, "Why don't you start by taking yours off?"

For a brief moment, Nathaniel stilled himself, deliberately holding back any visible reaction so he wouldn't appear too eager.

Inwardly, a satisfied thought flickered across his mind—his mother, it seemed, had made a surprisingly fitting choice this time.

As his body lowered over hers, pressing her into the mattress, her voice suddenly cut through the tension. "Hold on, Mr. Evans."

Before he could react, she reached beside her, grabbed a pillow, and slid it beneath her hips—a trick she'd heard that could help with getting pregnant.

In Natalie's mind, there was no room for hesitation—only a single, unwavering goal: she had to get pregnant as soon as possible. "Let's… continue for about half an hour. Would that be alright?"

A faint crease formed between Nathaniel's brows, irritation stirring as he felt reduced to nothing more than a means to her end.

With deliberate ease, he slipped open the buttons of her shirt, and then lowered his head to claim her lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

...

Afterward, Natalie tilted her head against his chest and murmured softly, "Would you… hold me like this for a bit?"

A faint, amused curve touched Nathaniel's lips, his gaze lowering as he assumed she was—after all—just another inexperienced girl, craving warmth after the act.

Just as he considered making her plead for it, her next words slipped out—calm, almost matter-of-fact. "It increases the chances of getting pregnant."

Irritation flickered across his face, sharp and unmistakable.

Instead, he brushed off her request entirely, letting the night drag on in a way that left her no chance for rest.

...

Shock flickered through Nathaniel as the realization settled in—he had slept with the woman intended for his older brother, Alexander.

From the corner of his eye, he studied Natalie, only to find her far steadier than he was.

Pulling the blanket higher over her chest, she smoothed the fabric with composed fingers before breaking the heavy silence. "So... what happened last night… was a mix-up?"

Watching her maintain that calm, almost detached composure, Nathaniel found his mind drifting back to the night before—how she had climbed onto him without hesitation, how she had even slipped a pillow beneath herself with quiet calculation—and the irritation he thought he'd shaken off began to creep in again, tightening subtly in his chest.

A low scoff escaped him. "Yeah. Some mix-up."

Displeasure creased Natalie's brow, though she swallowed whatever retort rose to her lips, clearly unwilling to waste time arguing.

"Then what about your brother… what's he planning to do?" Concern laced Natalie's voice now, her thoughts clearly drifting toward Isabella—and the mess they were all tangled in.

Natalie refused to let either herself or Isabella get sent back.

Nathaniel remembered the icy edge in Alexander's voice on the phone and knew this mess would have to be dealt with back at the Evans Estate.

Still, he said on purpose, "What else is there to do? We'll leave it as it is."

At that, Natalie went still. In her mind, timid little Isabella had already been thrown into Alexander's hands, and a man like him was far too unreadable, far too dangerous.

"No. Absolutely not." Panic sharpened her voice as she shot back. "Bella's too young and too innocent. She can't stay with your brother."

With a faint, mocking look in his eyes, Nathaniel replied, "Natalie, do you really think the Evans family would tolerate a mess like this? Or do you honestly think my brother would agree to hand over a woman he'd already slept with and send her to my bed?"

Nathaniel's words hit too close to the mark, draining the color from Natalie's face as her fingers curled tightly into her palms, nails pressing hard enough to sting.

Deep down, she couldn't deny it—everything he said was true. There was no way the Evans family would ever allow something this outrageous to come to light.

A hollow dimness crept into her eyes, and Nathaniel caught it instantly; the irritation in his chest eased a little, replaced by a faint, almost lazy amusement.

In that fleeting shift, he recognized it—the one weak point beneath her composed exterior, the crack she couldn't quite hide.

Leaning closer, he casually hooked a strand of her long hair around his finger, his voice slipping back into that easy, careless tone. "What's done is done. You might as well accept it. You'd be better off with me than my frigid brother. Isn't having a child what you want?" Leaning in until his breath ghosted over the shell of her ear, he dropped his voice to a low, coaxing whisper. "At least with me, getting pregnant won't be such a hassle—no tricks, no pillows."

His words hit her like a sudden weight, and her chest tightened as her gaze dimmed.

Concern for Isabella weighed heavily on her. It made little difference to Natalie herself which brother she ended up marrying, but as the eldest boy in the Evans family, Alexander came with far more than just himself—Isabella, as his future wife, would have to face not only him but his formidable parents as well.

Curled up alone on the bed, Isabella wrapped her arms around her knees, a subtle shiver rippling through her body.

Under her breath, she scolded herself for ruining something so important and offending the Evans family, with no idea how they would deal with her or Nathalie now.

Anxious thoughts kept circling through her mind. She wondered whether Nathaniel had already slept with Nathalie the night before, and she was terrified that if the Evans family took offense, both of them would be sent straight back home.

Worry pinched her brows tightly. Huddled there in a shaken little heap, she looked frightened and helpless, while the red marks scattered across her body stood as cruel traces of the night before, enough to make anyone's chest ache.

A moment later, Alexander finished his call and stepped back into the bedroom. This whole absurd mess had never been part of his plan either.

When his eyes shifted toward the bed, he found Isabella sitting there in a daze, trembling so badly she looked almost sick.

Memories of his unchecked intensity from the night before resurfaced. At that thought, he crossed the room in measured strides.

"Are you alright? Anywhere hurt?" he asked.

At the sound of him so close, Isabella's breath hitched sharply. She gave a quick, instinctive shake of her head, yet her throat felt parched to the point where no words would come.

After a brief pause, Alexander studied her pale face before speaking again, his tone settling into a steady calm. "What's done is done. We'll need to deal with what happened properly. I'll speak to my parents about it first and then we'll decide what to do next. Your sister still has to marry into the Evans family. But as for you… If you're unwilling, I can arrange some compensation and have you sent back to your family."

Forcing a woman had never been something he would do. Originally, Natalie had been the one meant to marry into the family to comfort his ailing grandmother, and given his age, the arrangement had made practical sense.

As for Isabella, she had only accompanied Natalie into the household, an unintended shadow in this marriage arrangement. Had he realized the mix-up from the night before, he would never have crossed that line with her.

Before he could finish speaking, however, Isabella's reaction came sharp and immediate. "No… I don't want to go back!"

She understood all too well what going back meant—being forced into marriage with an older man she couldn't stand.

Desperation crept into her voice as she clutched at this fleeting chance. "Please… I don't want to go back. I'll listen to everything you say. I'll do whatever you need… I… I'll even try to get pregnant as soon as possible… Just... please..."

Perched on the edge of the bed, she kept her head bowed, tangled hair falling over her face in messy strands, her thin fingers gripping the blanket. Nothing about her posture resembled a bride facing her future husband.

Silence stretched as Alexander lingered on her for a moment.

What unsettled him most was the memory of his own lapse—how he had lost control the previous night and kept her awake far too long.

Though their bodies had fit together with unsettling ease, the thought only sharpened his concern; she was far too young, far too fragile for the role he required.

What he needed was a composed, capable woman who could navigate the complexities of his family, not someone who would crumble under pressure and create more complications.

"If you're going to stand beside me as my wife, you'll need the kind of social grace that protects a family's reputation. Your sister manages that well—can you?"

Caught off guard, Isabella stiffened. Her timid nature made her voice drop to a barely audible whisper whenever she spoke to others.

Deep down, she had longed to be bold and composed like Nathalie, yet childhood memories of harsh punishments for the slightest misstep had carved fear into her bones, leaving her hesitant to utter a word most of the time...

Understanding that Nathalie's protection would not last forever, Isabella pushed herself to lift her gaze as she spoke. "Mr. Evans… I can learn. I'll work hard. I'll do whatever it takes..."

"And what makes you think I would take the time to teach you?"

At Alexander's words, the fragile light in her eyes dimmed, her expression paling as if she had been startled in the glare of sudden headlights. Watching her reaction, he felt an unexpected tug at his chest.

He had no intention of being cruel; he was merely stating an undeniable truth.

Had Isabella been destined to marry Nathaniel, their mother might have overlooked her shortcomings without much fuss, but becoming his wife was an entirely different matter.

The Evans family operated with layered expectations that weren't easy to navigate. Patience wasn't something Alexander was willing to spend on teaching a timid woman how to survive it.

"Everything will have to be discussed with my parents at the Evans Estate. I've already arranged for proper clothes to be sent over. If you present yourself like this in front of them, there's no chance you'll be accepted into the family."

Despite his firm tone, he hadn't completely shut her out. After all, the night before had crossed a line neither of them had planned, and no one welcomed a situation that messy or unexpected.

With that, he turned and walked out.

Left alone, Isabella remained seated on the bed, her thoughts drifting in a haze as she tried to grasp whether she still had a chance—if, perhaps, his parents agreed.

Clinging to that hope, she pushed herself upright and slipped out of bed.

Just as her feet touched the carpet, the door swung open from the outside. A middle-aged woman stepped in. Startled, Isabella instinctively shrank back, heat flooding her face as she became keenly aware of the faint marks scattered across her skin.

Then Alexander's earlier words echoed in her mind.

Forcing herself to steady, she drew in a shaky breath and pulled the blanket tighter around her body, shielding what she could. "Put..." A broken rasp slipped from her throat as she struggled to raise her voice. "Put it there. I'll get it myself."

As soon as the woman withdrew and the door clicked shut, Isabella scrambled for the clothes, only for her shaky legs to buckle and send her crumpling to the floor.

Tears burned at her nose, but she bit them back, forced herself up, and dressed as fast as she could. To her surprise, the clothes fit her almost perfectly.

Once she had washed her face, she stopped in front of the full-length mirror. Her complexion was still wan and fragile, yet the neatly tailored white dress softened her into a picture of quiet innocence, making her look, at least on the surface, not entirely out of place as Alexander's wife.

She tried on a smile at her reflection, but it came out tight and awkward, like something that didn't belong on her face.

Just then, a knock landed on the bedroom door, followed by Alexander's flat, unreadable voice from outside. "Are you ready?"

Her heart gave a sudden jump. After one last glance at herself in the mirror, Isabella steadied her breathing, pushed down her nerves, and went to open the door.

Standing just outside, Alexander was already dressed in a crisp, dark suit, his presence carrying a quiet, chilling authority.

His eyes moved over her in a brief, assessing sweep. While the lingering fear in her gaze hadn't disappeared, he noted that she at least looked presentable now, her posture no longer entirely collapsed. "Let's go."

Isabella's steps wavered, her legs still weak, yet she gathered her strength to keep pace, quietly following behind him.

...

At the Evans Estate, Isabella trailed after Alexander. The moment she stepped inside, she saw that her sister had already arrived.

Natalie sat beside a young man who looked so much like Alexander they could only be brothers.

As Isabella turned toward her, Natalie met her gaze at once, her eyes brimming with worry.

Nathaniel's eyes dropped immediately to the faint love marks peeking out beneath Isabella's collar.

A sharp laugh broke from him without warning, cutting through the stillness in the room, yet he looked perfectly at ease.

"So, Alex, did you bring her back for me?" he drawled.

Crossing the room, Nathaniel gave Isabella a slow, appraising look before leaning in closer to Alexander.

Handsome as he was, Isabella instinctively felt there was something mean and rotten in him, a vicious streak that made her skin crawl.

"Hey, if you don't want the younger one, then why not hand both sisters over to me?"

With a sharp, frosty look sweeping across the room, Alexander silenced Nathaniel for a brief moment. Then the younger brother let out a careless scoff. "Forget it. Keep her. I don't want a woman you've already had sex with anyway."

From where he sat, Jude Evans watched his wayward son, Nathaniel, with piercing eyes, and then struck his cane against the floor with a heavy crack. "Keep talking, and I'll snap your leg."

Once everyone had taken their seats, Pamela Evans—Alexander and Nathaniel's mother—finally spoke in a measured voice. "Tell me exactly what happened yesterday."

Her cool, penetrating gaze moved over Natalie and then settled on Isabella.

Natalie parted her lips, ready to respond, but one warning look from Pamela stopped her cold. "Isabella, you tell us," Pamela said calmly.

At once, Isabella rose to her feet, swallowing against the tightness in her throat as she tried to keep her voice from shaking. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Evans. Yesterday, I read the license plate wrong, so I got into the wrong car."

The moment the words fell from her mouth, the room went utterly still.

Pamela's sharp, measuring eyes lingered on Isabella's pale features.

Timid as Isabella looked, she had at least told the truth without trying to push the blame onto anyone else.

"You read it wrong?" Pamela's voice stayed even, yet the quiet weight behind it pressed down on the entire room. "Something this important happened, and you expect to dismiss it as a simple mistake?"

A slick layer of sweat coated Isabella's trembling palms, betraying the anxiety tightening around her chest.

Across the room, Natalie's eyes flickered back and forth between Isabella and Pamela, panic churning quietly beneath her composed exterior. Since childhood, Isabella had endured relentless verbal and physical abuse from their stepfather, scars that left her tongue tied in moments like this. No one understood that fragile, cornered look better than Natalie, and the sight of it twisted painfully in her chest.

Still, the Evans family had no idea—nor would they likely care—about Isabella's traumas.

Out of nowhere, a sudden weight pressed down on Natalie's shoulder.

Nathaniel stood beside her, his gaze glinting with lazy amusement, silently warning her to stay where she was and not ruin his entertainment.

A faint crease formed between Natalie's brows as she subtly leaned away, trying to put even a sliver of distance between them.

Unfazed, Nathaniel lifted a brow, and then slipped his hand beneath her coat with deliberate boldness, his warm palm settling firmly against her waist, holding her in place with quiet, undeniable control.

Unaware of the quiet intrusion, Natalie kept her eyes fixed on Isabella the entire time, drawn to her fragile, trembling presence.

Breaking the tension, the composed and distant Alexander, seated nearby, spoke in an unhurried tone. "There was no mistake—that plate number used to be mine. Nathaniel wanted it, so I handed it over."

Caught off-guard, Natalie turned to the man abruptly, her breath hitching.

Was Alexander actually stepping in for Isabella?

What possible reason could he have for doing that?

No matter how she turned it over, Natalie refused to believe a man like Alexander possessed any real kindness, nor could she imagine that a single night together would stir even the faintest attachment toward her sister.

Though his voice remained level and detached, Alexander's words rippled through the room like a stone cast into still water, quietly redirecting the blame and easing the weight pressing down on Isabella, suggesting the fault did not rest solely on her shoulders.

Pamela's sharp, assessing gaze drifted from Isabella to her eldest son, a trace of silent questioning in her eyes.

Beside him, Isabella also stared at Alexander in a stunned haze.

A sharp sting rose in her nose, and she quickly lowered her head, blinking hard to keep the tears from spilling.

For a brief moment, Pamela fell silent in thought.

Ordinarily, girls from families like theirs would never have entered her consideration. Still, her mother-in-law, Celine Evans, was critically ill, and more than anything, Celine longed to see Alexander settled and married before her time was up.

Finding a bride willing to go along with their family's demand—getting pregnant before the wedding—was no easy task.

After digging around for a while, Pamela finally found the Brown family.

Natalie struck her as sharp and levelheaded. With the right polish, Pamela believed the girl could be shaped into a presentable Mrs. Evans for Alexander, her proud eldest son.

In Pamela's eyes, a household like the Evans family, standing where they did now, benefited far more from a compliant daughter-in-law than from some strategic marriage alliance.

Daughters raised in powerful, wealthy families were usually spoiled from birth, and Pamela knew that if she tried to rein them in, they would only grow bitter and rebellious.

She had always believed Alexander's ambitions did not need a woman to prop them up. What he needed was a wife who listened.

For that reason, Pamela approved of Natalie. When Natalie suggested that Isabella be married into the Evans family as well, Pamela agreed after some consideration.

To Pamela, Isabella's soft, yielding nature made her the perfect choice to smooth out Nathaniel's unruly temperament.

The thought of training two daughters-in-law herself delighted Pamela, and that satisfaction made her decision come easily.

Then her sharp eyes settled on Natalie. "You know I picked you for Alex from the start. This wasn't the outcome I wanted. But since you and Nathan have already... Your marrying Alex is no longer possible. Are you willing to marry Nathan instead?"

At her waist, the hand resting there tightened just enough to feel like a quiet threat. Natalie lifted her eyes and met Nathaniel's teasing, unreadable stare.

She had a strong feeling the man was doing this on purpose, just to toy with her again.

Drawing in a slow breath, she forced down the storm of emotion twisting through her chest.

With things having reached this point, remaining with the Evans family was her only real choice, and it was still far better than being dragged back to the Brown family.

As for her future husband, without any feelings involved, it made no difference to her.

"I am," Natalie remarked, lifting her chin and meeting Pamela's gaze with quiet, steady resolve. "I'll accept the Evans family's decision and marry Nathaniel."

Approval flickered in Pamela's eyes, and she gave a small nod. "Very well."

"Mrs. Evans, about my sister…" Natalie brought up cautiously.

At once, Pamela's face turned even colder. "What's done is done. We'll see whether Alex is willing to keep her."

Off to the side, Isabella cautiously looked toward Alexander when she heard that.

What he had said that morning echoed in her mind—"And what makes you think I would take the time to teach you?"

A faint chill ran through Isabella. She was still afraid of Alexander, yet deep down, she desperately wanted to stay. Would he agree?

"She'll stay," Alexander said curtly, his gaze brushing over Isabella's strained, uneasy face without the slightest trace of warmth.

In an instant, the tight knot in Isabella's chest loosened. Her fingertips pressed quietly into her palm as she lowered her head, trying to conceal the tears shimmering at the edge of her eyes.

Rising to her feet with crisp authority, Pamela spoke in a tone that brooked no resistance. "Since everything's settled, Isabella will marry Alex, and Natalie will be with Nathan. But remember what I told you—Alex is already past thirty."

Her sharp gaze shifted to Isabella as she added coolly, "You need to conceive as soon as possible. Now that you're with Alex, I'll be holding you to a higher standard. If you can't even stand beside your husband at social events, then you can start preparing for a divorce within three months."

A subtle tremor ran through Isabella's delicate shoulders, barely visible beneath her composure, as she lowered her eyes and answered softly, "Understood, Mrs. Evans… I'll work hard to learn."

Upon seeing her fragile attempt to stay steady, Alexander's expression dimmed almost imperceptibly, a shadow crossing his gaze, though he chose to remain silent.

Some of the sharpness drained from Pamela's face, her tone easing now that she'd made her point. "Once the marriage is registered, you'll officially be part of the Evans family."

…

Stepping out of the Evans Estate, the two newly formed couples parted ways, each heading toward their own waiting car.

With quiet precision, Alexander pulled open the rear door for Isabella, his movements composed and unhurried. Offering a quiet thanks, she slipped inside and instinctively pressed herself toward the window, shrinking into the corner.

Through the glass, her gaze clung to the car ahead, knowing her sister sat inside it, bound for the same destination—the courthouse.

Drawing in a slow breath, Isabella tried to anchor herself, silently repeating that as long as her sister was near, she didn't have to be afraid.

Yet the thought lingered stubbornly in her chest. Three months… could she truly endure it?

Breaking through the suffocating quiet, Alexander's low, measured voice cut in without warning, "I'll be back tonight."

Startled, she turned toward him, her wide eyes colliding with his unreadable expression.

Memories of his overwhelming dominance the night before flashed through her mind, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth before giving a small nod. "I understand," she murmured.

A dull soreness lingered in her legs, refusing to fade.

Nothing about last night had been gentle; when she had tried to pull away, he had simply tightened his grip, holding her firmly in place.

Her struggling only seemed to annoy him, and in the end, he had flipped her over, pressing her down against the sheets, trapping her beneath him.

The urgency of conceiving within three months made it certain—he'd spend another night with her.

Fear crept unmistakably across her pale features. That same expression reminded Alexander of how she had trembled beneath him, her soft, broken sounds echoing faintly in his memory, and his throat moved subtly as he swallowed.

Even so, when he spoke, his tone came out unexpectedly even. "There's no need to look like that," he muttered coolly. "If getting pregnant within three months isn't what you want, we can stay in separate rooms."

At once, panic surged through Isabella, tightening her chest. "I do want it," she blurted quickly. "I really do… You can come back every night if you want."

"I'm not the kind of person who acts on every urge." The tightness in Alexander's demeanor eased, her response clearly landing as intended. "As soon as there's an opening, I'll take you along to some gatherings."

Returning to his usual detached composure, his voice remained steady, almost indifferent. "Focus on improving yourself. The Evans family has no place for someone who contributes nothing."

…

Meanwhile, inside Nathaniel's car, the mood shifted into something far more charged.

Once Natalie settled into her seat and exhaled a quiet breath, he immediately leaned in, his tall frame boxing her in as a teasing grin tugged at his lips.

"So it looks like you're the one I ended up marrying," he drawled.

Instead of responding, Natalie simply turned her eyes toward him.

Unbothered by her silence, Nathaniel continued with a lazy chuckle, "Tell me—out of everything we tried last night, which way did you like best?"

Confusion flickered through her as she compared the two Evans brothers in her mind, unable to reconcile how they could be so utterly different. "The driver is still here," she whispered.

A crooked smile spread across Nathaniel's face as he tilted his head. "Relax. He's married too. You really think he doesn't know what happens between a man and his wife? Besides, you were pretty bold last night, weren't you? You had no trouble getting my clothes off."

Drawing her brows together, Natalie shot him a sharp look. "I thought you were Alexander Evans," she retorted. "I was only fulfilling what I believed was my responsibility as his future wife."

Nathaniel's fingers traced along the curve of her jaw, his touch unhurried. "Tell me, what's the real difference? Being with me still counts as you playing the role of a future wife, doesn't it?"

Tilting her face away from his hand, she answered coolly, "With you, it feels more like indulging your own entertainment."

At that, his posture shifted; the playful edge in his demeanor receded as he straightened, something sharper settling in his gaze.

Fixing her with a steadier look, he said, "You're hoping to get pregnant, aren't you? If that's the goal, then keeping me entertained is part of the deal, so you'd better start getting used to it."

A deliberate bite edged his tone as he added, "My mother's already impatient for a grandchild."

In his mind, Natalie was no different from the many women who had tried to win his favor before; the only reason he lingered in conversation now was because she still held a trace of novelty.

Interest, however, was something he could discard just as quickly.

Even though she had been his first, that fact carried little weight for him—it had happened only because his mother insisted he share a bed with his future wife.

Left to his own inclinations, he would never have chosen to touch her at all.

An unspoken irritation tightened Nathaniel's jaw as he said flatly, "I won't be coming back tonight."

Unease flickered between Natalie's brows, already sensing that the more she brought up pregnancy, the more stubbornly he pushed back.

Keeping her voice steady, she replied, "All right… just tell me when you plan to return."

Nathaniel's features tightened, flickering with irritation. "I don't feel like seeing you for a while. Don't expect me back for at least a week."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, though her tone remained composed. "Got it."

Their voices fell away, leaving only a tense hush.

After a long, restless minute, Nathaniel suddenly lashed out, his foot slamming against the car door. "Pull over. Tell Alexander to handle things for me—I'm not going to the marriage registration myself."

Without hesitation, the driver steered the vehicle to the roadside and brought it to a stop. "Mr. Evans, if you don't appear in person for the registration…"

"They'll manage without me." With a careless flick of his wrist, Nathaniel tossed his identification onto the seat, already shifting toward the door. Yet even as he stepped out, Nathalie didn't call out once or try to hold him there.

Irritation deepened, settling heavily across his features.

In his mind, Natalie became even more dull, utterly devoid of anything worth his attention.

Just as he started to swing the door shut, a whisper drifted from the back seat, so soft and fleeting that anyone less sharp than him would have missed it.

"What a lunatic!" she muttered.

Before he could even slam his foot against the car again, the vehicle had already surged forward and sped away from the curb.

Lunatic?

That woman actually had some nerve, insulting him to his face like that!

In a sudden surge of anger, Nathaniel nearly decided to call off the marriage on the spot.

Then he shoved a hand into his pocket, only for his expression to stiffen. His phone was still in the car.

He glanced at Alexander's vehicle behind them, thinking he could stop it and speak to his brother face-to-face. But in the very next moment, Alexander's car accelerated without hesitation and swept right past him.