CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

Amber Desiree’s POV

I just came from Leila’s condo, and now I was on my way home. I hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten. We lost track of time talking, and, of course, she couldn’t resist giving me more advice before I left.

I took out my phone, debating whether I should text Lorenzo to let him know I was on my way home.

The Grab I booked was already waiting outside the building. The moment I got in, I gave the driver my address. He nodded from the rearview mirror, half of his face covered with a mask and a cap pulled low over his eyes. I didn’t think much of it and simply stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past.

My mind drifted back to what had been haunting me all day—how I’d tell my brother, and Lorenzo’s father, especially Lorenzo—that I was pregnant.

I took my phone out again and opened our messages. Scrolling through our past conversations only made my heart ache. All his replies were short, usually just “seen” or a like reaction.

He only ever messaged me when it was important, or when his father wanted to relay something through him. Meanwhile, I was the complete opposite. I’d update him about everything—what I ate, what I did at home, even the smallest things.

I sighed bitterly, my chest tightening as I stared at the screen. I didn’t even feel like texting him anymore. It wouldn’t matter anyway. He wouldn’t care. He never did.

With a deep breath, I turned off my phone and looked back out the window.

Come to think of it, I’m not a teenager anymore. I’m already twenty-six, and there’s nothing wrong or unusual about having a child at this age. In fact, Lorenzo’s father had been expecting it.

It was part of the deal. The condition when I agreed to this arranged marriage. I had to be the perfect, obedient wife and give Lorenzo an heir in exchange for the Devlins saving my family’s collapsing company.

But honestly... I’m not ready. I thought I was when I agreed to this marriage, but getting actually pregnant was different. The reality was heavier than I’d imagined. I just realized... I’m not prepared to be a mother yet.

And how could I bring an innocent life into this world, knowing what kind of marriage I was in? Knowing the child would grow up in a home where love didn’t exist between its parents? It would affect the child.

I don’t want my baby to grow up in a family without love.

Lorenzo doesn’t love me. We’ve been married for a year, and not once has he been warm to me. He’s not exactly neglectful, but he’s distant. He treats me more like a business partner than a wife.

We only appear close when we’re around other people, just for show. When it’s just the two of us, it’s like we’re strangers sharing the same roof.

Even though he knows I’m supposed to give him an heir, he never touched me—not even once—until that night. The night he was drunk.

If he hadn’t been, nothing would’ve ever happened between us.

I still remember that night clearly.

I was fast asleep when the sound of the doorbell echoed through the quiet house. I woke up immediately, startled. I sat up and noticed the empty space beside me, he hadn’t come home yet. I glanced at the clock, and it was already midnight.

The doorbell kept ringing, so I got out of bed and stepped out of the bedroom. Heading downstairs, I checked the security monitor and saw Leila standing at the gate with Ethan, Lorenzo’s secretary. They were helping Lorenzo, who was clearly drunk.

I quickly opened the door.

“Hi, AD,” Leila greeted with a tired smile.

“Good eve—uh, good morning, Mrs. Devlin,” Ethan greeted politely.

“Lei, Ethan. What happened? Why is Lorenzo drunk?” I asked, rushing toward them.

Lorenzo stirred, lifting his head. His hazy green eyes met mine, and to my surprise, he smiled.

“I’m home, wife!” he slurred, breaking free from Leila and Ethan as he stumbled toward me. He almost fell, but I caught him just in time.

“Lorenzo!” I gasped, worried.

But he only chuckled softly. His arms slipped around my waist, and he buried his in the crook of my neck. My heart raced. Oh God, he’s really drunk. He would never do this if he were sober. Why did he drink so much tonight?

I looked up and found Leila and Ethan both watching us. Leila had an amused grin on her face.

“Take care of your drunk husband, AD. We’re heading out. I’m so freaking exhausted,” she said with a yawn.

“But—”

“Please,” she cut me off. “Ethan still has to go to work later in the morning, and he’s been dealing with my brother all night. Don’t you feel bad for the guy? He’s been babysitting your drunk husband for hours. Let him rest,” she said, patting Ethan’s shoulder.

Ethan just adjusted his glasses and said nothing.

I sighed in defeat. “Alright, I’ll take care of Lorenzo. Thank you both for bringing him home.”

“Alright! Bye!” Leila waved cheerfully.

“Thank you and goodbye, Mrs. Devlin,” Ethan said politely, even bowing slightly before turning away.

I watched them go, and once they locked the gate, I turned back and shut the door behind me with Lorenzo half-asleep, his weight leaning on my shoulder.

I sighed again and began guiding him upstairs to our bedroom. He stirred a little, his arm tightening around my waist.

“Amber…” he murmured my name, and I swear, shivers ran down my spine. It wasn’t the first time he said my name, but somehow… it sounded different tonight. It rolled off his tongue so tenderly, so intoxicatingly, that my heart skipped a beat.

And with him speaking so close to my ear, his warm breath brushed against my skin, his deep voice rough and unguarded.

I tried to ignore the way it made me feel and focused on getting him to bed. But he kept murmuring my name over and over again, like a soft plea.

When we finally reached our room, I laid him down on the bed. I was about to head to the bathroom to get a towel when he grabbed my wrist.

“Stay,” he said quietly.

I froze and looked down at him.

His eyes opened slowly, those deep green orbs locking on mine. “Stay with me.”

And I did.

Because deep down, all I ever wanted was to be wanted by him—even just once. Even if it wasn’t real. Even if it would cost me everything.