Chapter 3

Chapter 3

POV: Amelie

Suddenly, the mattress beside me sank. Reyvano sat there, so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body and the strong scent clinging to his work clothes. This possessive man had absolutely no intention of giving me any personal space.

"You’re becoming more tempting," Reyvano murmured softly. His large, warm hand lifted and gently stroked his baby’s head as the little one continued nursing, before his long fingers eventually moved upward and caressed my exposed shoulder.

My body trembled violently at his touch. The touch of a strange man who should never have been allowed to touch me.

Reyvano nuzzled his face against my neck, deeply inhaling my scent. Then, without warning, his warm lips moved, landing on the upper area of my exposed chest, placing soft yet demanding kisses against my sensitive skin.

His heavy breaths brushed against my skin, sending a strange sensation through me that made every hair on my body stand on end. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, gripping the bedsheet beside me until my fingers turned white as I struggled to contain the intense trembling throughout my body.

"Darling... I can’t hold myself back anymore," Reyvano whispered directly against my chest. His voice was hoarse, filled with desire that had been suppressed for years, or perhaps throughout his wife’s pregnancy.

A bead of cold sweat trickled down my temple. Panic swept through my mind. I couldn’t give in to him. I wasn’t his wife. I was only a substitute. I had to stop him without arousing his suspicion.

Remembering Amora’s story that she had given birth by C-section or had experienced a complicated delivery two weeks ago, I tried to gather the last bit of courage I had.

"Mmmm... H-husband," I called out in a trembling voice, trying to steady my breathing so that I would sound convincing.

Reyvano stopped kissing me, but his face remained very close to my chest. His dark eyes lifted, looking up at me with an intensity that made me hold my breath.

"I... I only gave birth two weeks ago," I continued softly, looking away because I couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. "It... it still hurts where I was stitched."

I swallowed, trying to remember the normal recovery period after childbirth. "Could you... could you be patient for about another three months?"

Silence enveloped the room for several seconds that felt like an eternity. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding like a war drum. What if Amora had given birth naturally and didn’t have any stitches? What if I had said the wrong thing?

Reyvano slowly straightened his body. His eyes remained fixed on my flushed face, processing my request. The silence was so suffocating that eventually, a heavy breath escaped his lips.

A faint curve appeared at the corner of his lips—a rare smile that transformed the cold aura of his stern face into something incredibly warm.

"Of course," Reyvano replied gently.

He leaned forward, bringing his face closer to mine. His warm lips landed on my forehead, lingering there with a tenderness I had never expected from a man as tough as him.

"Alright, darling. I’ll be patient," he whispered again right in front of my forehead after pulling away from the kiss. His hand gently caressed my cheek. "I won’t hurt you. Finish breastfeeding Ardhana King Blackthorne, then we’ll rest."

So the name of this little baby was Ardhana.

I nodded slowly, trying to hide my surprise upon hearing my nephew’s full name. Ardhana King Blackthorne. Such a majestic name for such a tiny baby.

Reyvano leaned his back against the headboard, remaining beside me without any intention of leaving, his eyes continuously watching his son nurse peacefully. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief, although my heart was still pounding rapidly.

I had survived one danger tonight. But as I looked at the well-built man beside me, who was so attentive and possessive toward his "wife," I knew that hiding this huge lie for the next two years would be a hell of its own.

That night passed with the tension gradually easing. Reyvano truly kept his word; he simply lay beside me, watching Ardhana finally fall into a deep sleep after nursing until he was full, then closed his eyes as well while wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. The warmth of his broad chest pressed against my back throughout the night almost made me forget that this embrace actually did not belong to me.

The next day, before dawn had truly broken, my eyes were already open. My habits from when I was still a wife in the village could not simply disappear. I was accustomed to waking up early, preparing a warm breakfast, and arranging my husband’s clothes before sunrise.

Very carefully, I removed Reyvano’s arm from around my waist, then slid my body out of the bed. Ardhana was still sleeping soundly in his baby crib.

I walked toward the large glass-doored wardrobe in the corner of the room. Recalling the short notes Amora had tucked into the bag before she left, I began sorting through the clothes. Amora had written down Reyvano’s preferences and habits in great detail—perhaps the only thing about that man she knew by heart. Reyvano liked dark-colored shirts made of soft cotton, ties with simple knots, and always asked for his suit to be prepared on the chair in his room.

After preparing the dark navy shirt, black dress pants, and matching tie that I had neatly arranged, I walked downstairs toward the main kitchen on the ground floor.

The kitchen in the Blackthorne residence was enormous and luxurious, dominated by white marble and modern appliances. Several female servants who had just begun their duties looked surprised to see me there at five in the morning.

"Madam? Is there anything we can help you with?" the head maid asked in panic, hurriedly approaching me. "Do you need something, Madam? Shall we prepare it for you?"

"It’s alright," I replied with a faint smile, trying to control my tone so that I wouldn’t sound like an awkward village woman. "I just want to cook breakfast for Reyvano. You can continue with your other duties."

The servants exchanged confused glances, but they did not dare argue and immediately stepped back slowly.

I tied my hair up and began checking the contents of the large double-door refrigerator. Back in the village, I had always loved cooking. My late husband had always praised my simple cooking. Now, my fingers moved nimbly as I chopped the fresh ingredients. I decided to prepare the dish that, according to Amora’s notes, was Reyvano’s favorite meal when he had free time.

As I was pouring the hot soup into a white ceramic bowl, the sound of firm, authoritative footsteps approached from the direction of the stairs.

I turned around. Reyvano stood in the doorway of the kitchen. His hair was still slightly damp after his shower, and he was already wearing the dress pants and navy shirt I had prepared in the room earlier. His morning charisma was truly paralyzing.

His sharp eyes looked toward the dining table before shifting to me, who was still holding a ladle with a cloth apron tied around my full waist.

"Darling, you cooked?" Reyvano asked, his voice deep with the huskiness of someone who had just woken up, carrying a tone of profound surprise. He stepped closer, stopping right beside the kitchen island.

He tilted his head slightly, looking at the bowls of food on the table before fixing his gaze back on my eyes.

"Since when did you know how to cook?" he continued softly, yet every word that left his lips felt as though it were striking my chest. "Couldn’t you cook?"

Thud.

My heart felt as though it had stopped beating in an instant. The ladle in my hand nearly slipped if I hadn’t gripped it tightly. Cold sweat immediately dampened my palms.

I had forgotten. Amora was a well-groomed city woman who had never touched the kitchen, let alone prepared traditional spices like these. And I... had just made a fatal mistake on the very first day of my disguise.

"Darling, since when could you cook, huh?" he asked again, his gaze scrutinizing me.