Chapter 1

I was in love with a married man, Julian Walton. He asked me to be his mistress. He promised me luxury, discretion, and his heart. But I refused. I had too much pride to be a secret kept in the dark, a shameful footnote in his grand life.

So, I walked away.

I thought that was the end of it, but Julian shocked everyone. Within months, he did the unthinkable: he divorced Clara, weathering a massive public scandal and a brutal financial hit, just to come back to me.

When he got down on one knee with a ring that could buy a small island, he told me I was the only woman he ever truly wanted. He legally made me his wife. I thought I had won. I thought love had conquered all.

Then came tonight.

I was heading down to his private study to bring him a cup of tea. I was going to use the quiet moment to tell him the news that had made my heart soar just hours earlier—that I was finally pregnant.

But as I reached the heavy mahogany door, I realized it wasn't fully closed. A sliver of light cut across the dark hallway, and with it, a voice that made my blood run cold.

Clara.

"How much longer do I have to play this ridiculous game, Julian?" she asked, her voice laced with sharp impatience. "Watching you parade around with that... woman is humiliating."

I froze, the teacup trembling in my hands.

"Just hold on a little longer, Clara," Julian’s voice replied. It was smooth, calm, and utterly devoid of the warmth he usually reserved for me.

"You know the doctors said you can't carry a child to term, and my family's estate requires a legal heir. The prenup with my father ensures we lose everything if I don't produce one."

"So you married a nobody," Clara sneered.

"Exactly," Julian said, and I could hear the smirk in his tone. "She was too proud to be a mistress, so I gave her the title. It’s a temporary investment. The moment she gives birth and the child is legally mine, she’s out. I’ll kick her to the curb with a standard settlement; we'll file for sole custody, and you and I can remarry. Just let her hatch the golden egg, darling. Then she's gone."

The teacup shattered against the hardwood floor.

The sound of the shattering porcelain exploded in the silence of the hallway, a sharp, violent punctuation to the death of my life as I knew it. Inside the room, the voices abruptly cut off.

For a single, agonizing second, I couldn't breathe. The air in my lungs had turned to shards of glass. The man who had knelt before me, who had weathered a public storm to claim me, was a phantom. A construct of calculated malice. I wasn't his victorious love; I was a biological incubator, a "nobody" brought in to hatch his golden egg.

Footsteps hurried toward the door.

Panic, cold and visceral, seized me. My hand instinctively flew to my stomach. They want my baby. They didn't just want to break my heart; they wanted to steal the life growing inside me and throw me to the curb.

Before my mind could process the shock I had just received, the door was pulled open. In between the doorframe stood Julian and his ex-wife, Clara.

Panic flared in his eyes as he asked, “What are you doing here, Izzy?”

“You should have been resting. You had a fever today, didn't you?” he quickly managed to speak, adjusting his expression from panic to normal and then finally to a loving and caring husband.

I didn't hesitate and pointed my fingers at Clara. “It's my home. I can go wherever I want. But what is she doing at our home?”

He turned to look at her. His face showed feigned disdain as he said, “I have settled all the payments for our alimony. Do not show up here ever again.”

Clara then walked out. She didn't forget to spare me a malicious look as if I were merely a joke to her.

Not long after, Julian walked me to our bedroom. Making me sit, he held my hands and said softly, “You shouldn't exhaust yourself, darling. You still need to carry my child in your fragile womb for nine months. Remember?”

So, all the love he showered me with, the protective shield he provided me, was an investment to him– just to get a child in return?

I looked into his eyes and said, my voice firm. “Don't worry, I’m strong enough to carry my baby not just for nine months but for eternity.”

The person who will not be able to carry the baby is not me but you, Julian Walton, I thought.

I slipped the paternity test reports lying on the side table so that he could not know, and when he asked me what I was doing, I said, “Next time you meet Clara, please ask her not to wear Lavender perfume. I’m allergic to it.”

“I’m moving to the guest room. I can't sleep with that smell lingering all over your body.”

Having said that, I made my way out of our room without turning back to look

at his expression.

Julian Walton, I’m done with you, and so is my baby!