004

The penthouse took my breath away.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Manhattan skyline like a living painting. Modern furniture in shades of charcoal and cream, art that probably cost more than my entire life savings. The place was massive—easily ten times the size of the cramped house I'd shared with Damien.

"This is..." I trailed off, my hand resting on my belly as the baby kicked.

"Home. For now." Calloway set down my single suitcase—all I'd managed to grab before leaving. "All contract terms applied."

I nodded. "Separate bedrooms. No physical intimacy. You pay all medical expenses. Divorce after one year. I keep forty percent of assets accumulated during the marriage."

"Done." He didn't even blink.

"Just like that?" I turned to face him. "You're agreeing to lose nearly half of everything for a year of fake marriage?"

"I'm not losing anything." His expression was unreadable. "I'm investing."

"In what?"

"In making sure you and your baby are safe." He loosened his tie. "In watching Damien Anderson realize he can't touch what's mine."

The possessiveness in his voice shouldn't have sent a shiver down my spine. But it did.

"I'm not yours," I said quietly.

"For the next year, you are." He held my gaze. "At least, that's what everyone will believe."

Before I could respond, the elevator dinged. The doors opened, and a woman stepped out—late fifties, perfectly coiffed silver hair, designer dress, and eyes like ice chips.

"Calloway." Her voice could freeze vodka. "Imagine my surprise when I heard you'd gotten married. Without inviting your own mother."

Oh hell.

"Mother." Calloway's tone went flat. "This is Elena. Elena, my mother, Victoria Sterling."

Victoria's gaze swept over me, lingering on my pregnant belly. Her lip curled. "How... convenient."

"Excuse me?" I straightened my spine.

"The timing. Pregnant, in need, and suddenly married to my son." She set her purse on the counter with a sharp click. "Where's Natasha?"

"I don't know." Calloway's voice was ice. "And I don't care."

"You don't—" Victoria's eyes widened. "Calloway, you can't just—"

"I can. I did." He moved between us, blocking me from his mother's icy stare. "Natasha and I are done. Permanently."

"But the wedding plans—"

"Canceled."

"The merger with the Winters family—"

"Irrelevant."

"Calloway!" Victoria's composure cracked. "I spent two years planning that wedding. Natasha comes from a good family, she understands our world, she knows how to—"

"She cheated. Multiple times." Calloway's words were clipped, final. "Whatever understanding we had is over."

Victoria waved a hand dismissively, her diamond bracelet catching the light. "All women stray occasionally, darling. You're a busy man. That's no reason to throw away everything we've built—"

"Get out."

The command in his voice made even me take a step back.

Victoria's face went pale. "What?"

"Elena is my wife. You'll respect her, or you'll leave." He crossed his arms. "Your choice."

"Calloway, you can't possibly expect me to—"

"Now, Mother."

For a moment, Victoria looked like she might argue. Her mouth opened and closed. Then she grabbed her purse with shaking hands, shot me a look of pure venom, and stalked to the elevator.

"This arrangement won't last," she said as the doors began to close, her voice trembling with rage. "My son doesn't make rash decisions."

"Then I suggest you get used to disappointment, Mother."

The elevator doors shut. Silence filled the penthouse.

I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Well. She seems lovely."

Calloway's jaw ticked. "She'll come around."

"Will she?" I moved to the windows, putting distance between us. My reflection stared back at me—pregnant, exhausted, wearing yesterday's clothes. "She's right, you know. About the timing. About how this looks."

"I don't care how it looks."

"You should." I turned back to him. "I'm damaged goods, Calloway. Pregnant with another man's baby, divorced, broke. Your mother sees exactly what I am—a gold digger who trapped her son."

"Stop." He crossed the room in three strides. Didn't touch me, but stood close enough that I could smell his cologne—something dark and expensive. "You're not damaged. You're a survivor."

My throat tightened. "You don't know me."

"I know enough." His voice softened. "Come. Let me show you something."

He led me down a hallway, stopped at a door, and pushed it open.

I froze.

The room had been transformed into a nursery. A white crib sat against one wall, a rocking chair by the window, soft lighting that made everything feel warm and safe. There were blankets, tiny clothes hanging in an open closet, stuffed animals arranged on shelves.

"I had it done this afternoon," Calloway said. "While we were signing papers."

My hand flew to my mouth. Tears blurred my vision. "You... how did you... In three hours?"

"You mentioned you're six months along. I had my assistant make some calls." He leaned against the doorframe. "If anything's not right, we can change it."

I walked into the room slowly, like it might disappear if I moved too fast. My fingers brushed the crib's railing. It was real. Solid. Beautiful.

For the first time in months—maybe years—someone had genuinely thought about me. About my baby. Had made sure we'd be taken care of.

"Why?" The word came out broken. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because someone should have done it sooner."

I turned to look at him. He was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Something raw and honest that made my chest ache.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He nodded once, then cleared his throat. "Your bedroom's across the hall. Bathroom's ensuite. I'm at the other end of the penthouse if you need anything."

"Calloway—"

"Get some rest, Elena. It's been a long day."

He left before I could say anything else.

***

I tried to sleep. Really, I did. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw Damien's face. Sienna's smirk. The blood pooling beneath me on those stairs.

At midnight, I gave up. Pulled on a robe and padded out to the living room.

Calloway stood on the balcony, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring out at the city lights. He'd shed his jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves. He looked... tired. Human.

I slid open the glass door. "Can't sleep either?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "Apparently not."

I joined him at the railing, wrapping my arms around myself against the cool breeze. "Your mother was wrong, you know. This isn't a rash decision for you."

"No?"

"No. You're too calculated for that." I studied his profile. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you offered this arrangement."

His lips curved slightly. "Maybe."

"Natasha." The name felt heavy on my tongue. "How many times?"

"Does it matter?"

"It matters if we're going to pretend to be married."

He took a long drink. "Seven. That I know of. Probably more."

My stomach twisted. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I should have seen it sooner." He set down his glass. "She was good at hiding it. Making me feel crazy for questioning her. By the end, I didn't trust my own instincts."

I knew that feeling. That feeling of being cheated on by someone you loved.

"Damien asked the doctors to terminate," I heard myself say. "My first two pregnancies. Both girls. He told them to abort without my consent."

Calloway's hand tightened on the railing. "What?"

"He wanted sons. So he killed my daughters and told me they were miscarriages." My voice shook. "I only found out recently. I should have—" I stopped myself, biting back the words. Three days ago. In another life. "I should have questioned things sooner."

"Elena—"

"This baby survived because he was traveling when I got pregnant. He didn't even know until it was too late." I pressed my palm to my belly. "And when I confronted him about everything, when I threatened to expose him..." My voice dropped. "He pushed me down the stairs."

Calloway's jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle jump. "He what?"

"At the party. After I found out about Sienna's pregnancy. We fought, and he—" I stopped, wrapping my arms tighter around myself. "I barely escaped. If I hadn't grabbed the railing halfway down..."

It wasn't a lie. Not really. Just a different version of the truth.

"He tried to kill you." Calloway's voice was deadly quiet.

"Yes."

He turned to face me fully, his eyes searching mine. "You knew things at that party that you shouldn't have known. The cake order. Sienna's pregnancy." He paused. "How?"

My heart hammered. I'd been too careless, too confident in my knowledge.

"I... I hired a private investigator," I said, meeting his gaze steadily. "After the second miscarriage, something felt wrong. I started digging. Found out about the affairs, the gambling, all of it." The lie came easier than I expected. "I've been planning my exit for months. Your arrival just... accelerated the timeline."

Calloway studied me for a long moment. I held my breath, waiting to see if he'd believe it.

Finally, he nodded slowly. "Smart."

Relief flooded through me.

"You're not the only one with secrets, Elena," he added quietly.

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed in my robe pocket. I pulled it out. Unknown number.

Enjoy playing house while it lasts. That baby's father is coming for what's his. - D

Ice flooded my veins. I showed Calloway the screen.

His expression went dark. Dangerous.

He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Marcus? I need full security detail on my penthouse. And dig up everything on Damien Anderson. Everything."

He paused, listening, then his eyes met mine.

"He won't touch you again. I promise."