Chapter 1

NORA

The nausea hit me again in the clinic waiting room.

For two weeks I had been tired, dizzy and unable to keep any food down. I had blamed the cold and blamed work but then decided i needed medical attention to relief my self.

"Ms. Wynne?" the nurse called.

The doctor took my blood and told me to wait. Twenty minutes later she came back with a thin folder.

"You are seven weeks pregnant."

The room tilted. I gripped the arm of the chair.

"That is not possible."

"The test is clear." She slid the report toward me.

I stared at it. Pregnant? For Gideon's child?

"Please do not tell anyone," I said quickly. "Not even my emergency contact."

"Of course. But come back for a scan in two weeks."

"I will," I lied.

In the elevator, I touched my flat stomach. A baby should have felt like a gift. It felt like a warning. Gideon had told me on our wedding night what this was. A five year contract, nothing personal. No love or any attachment even though i performed every wife duty imginable.

A child was the one thing the contract did not cover. It was a mistake as a result of my missed contraceptive pills... Three months ago, after Gideon had touched me, i realized only the following morning i had run out on pills, but work kept me the longest that day and i had taken the pills late, i never expected a child out of a one time mistake.

Outside, the autumn wind cut through my coat. A couple passed me pushing a stroller and laughing. I watched them walk away.

It reminded me of my loneliness.

My phone buzzed. Four missed calls from Theo.

"Nora, where are you?" he whispered when I called back. "Mr. Hale has been asking for you for half an hour. The finance director just left his office as white as paper."

I pressed my hand to my stomach. Forgive me, little one. Your father does not know you are here.

Twenty minutes later, I stood outside his door, took one breath, and knocked.

Gideon Hale stood at the window with his back to me. The afternoon light fell across his dark desk and the hard line of his shoulders.

"Thirty-five minutes." His voice was flat. He did not turn around. "You were due at one."

"I am sorry, Mr. Hale. I had an appointment."

"It was not on my calendar." Now he turned, and his steel gray eyes landed on me. "You are paid to run my schedule, Nora. Not to interrupt it."

"Yes, Mr. Hale."

"Tonight at seven we attend the Lowells' anniversary dinner. Lowell Freight carries forty percent of our shipping. You will smile, you will be polite, and remember that you are there as my wife." He picked up a pen. "Do not be late again."

I wanted to tell him I felt unwell. But i already knew his answer. Nothing would sound reasonable enough to excuse myself from such events.

I left his office and thought about how I had ended up here.

Three years ago, my father Abel Wynne was the night watchman at the Hale warehouse. One night the warehouse burned to the ground, and a man inside died. The police said the fire began in the guard room and it was planned. So my father was blamed.

Two days later, admist the chaos and investigation before custody, he had a stroke, and has not spoken a word since.

I went to the Hale family to beg for mercy. Rosalind Hale, Gideon's mother, said I could show my sorrow by working for the family's charity dinner that Saturday as a server perhaps they will drop all charges against my father. So i agreed. I carried trays all night, and I did not complain.

The next morning I woke up in Gideon's hotel suite, in his bed, with no memory of how I got there.

Gideon woke beside me, and his face turned to stone. A blood test was carried out and traces of sedative were found in his glass, the very glass I had carried to him.

The hotel cameras showed me handing it over to him personally. I told them I had not touched it because i could not remember any thing that had happened if not for the prove of cctv footage i would have said i was being framed.

So no one believed me. In fact i was seen as a lier and all my effort to save my father was gone. The victim family whose son died was on the neck of my family too, they wanted revenge.

Photos reached a gossip site before noon. The board was days away from a vote, and a scandal about the CEO and the daughter of the man who burned his warehouse would have cost him his seat.

He came to my mother that night with a lawyer and a folder.

My mother was a maid and i was just the daughter of maid. We had nothing.

He offered me a choice. Marry him for five years to cover the shame and scandal.

The Hale family would stand beside the Wynnes in public as proof of their mercy, and the papers would call it a story of forgiveness. His lawyers would keep my father out of prison, and his money would pay for my father's care.

Or I could refuse, and face criminal charges for drugging him, while my father went to prison in a hospital bed.

So i signed. Not out of will, it was the only option availble to save my family's name.

For three years I have lived two lives. At work, I am his executive assistant. At home, I am the contract wife nobody knows about. Only his inner circle has ever been told.

The Lowells' dining room glittered that evening with chandeliers and quiet money. I wore a plain black dress, hoping to disappear.

Gideon's hand landed on my lower back as we entered. Not affection. Just a signal that the show had begun.

Heads turned, and the whispers followed.

"The arsonist's daughter. How dare she come here?"

"They say she drugged Gideon to get into his bed."

"How generous of him to marry the girl who tried to trap him."

I kept my eyes on the floor.

Our host greeted Gideon with both hands. "The contracts are ready for review next week."

"I look forward to it."

His eyes slid over me and away. No introduction. No greeting.

All night I felt it, the invisible wall around me. The other guests were polite enough to keeo their distance. I was the woman the Hale family had forgiven, and no one in that room would let me forget it.

Then the host's daughter stepped onto a small stage in a pale silk gown, one hand resting on a gentle curve at her waist. Her husband stood at her side.

"Thank you all for coming," she said. "We have news to share. We are expecting our child soon."

The room erupted in applause. A screen behind her lit up with a grainy ultrasound, a small bean of light.

"After years of trying," she said, her voice thick, "we had almost given up. But fate decided to show us mercy, this child is already so loved."

Her husband kissed her forehead. The perfect picture of love.

I pressed my hand to my stomach, hidden under my dress is my child. Gideon's child. A miracle that nobody in the world would celebrate.

"You seem interested." Gideon's voice was cool beside me.

I took a breath. "If we ever had a child..."

"No." He cut me off. "Nora, I do not want children with you. The contract is clear. In two years, we end this and walk away."

Each word cut into me.

"This is business," he said quietly. "Nothing more."

He did not know. He did not know that a heartbeat was already growing inside me.

I excused myself and locked myself in a stall in the ladies' room. I pressed my fist against my mouth so no one would hear me cry.

Hours later, back at the Hale house, I went straight to the bathroom. My hands shook as I took the clinic report out of the lining of my handbag. I stared at it for a long time. Proof of a life that Gideon would never want.

I could not tear it up. I could not even crumple it.

I folded it into a small square and tucked it back into the lining, where it lay against my ribs like a second heartbeat.

When I came out, Gideon sat on the edge of the sofa, texting. His expression was soft, a look he had never once worn for me.

"You were gone a long time."

"I was washing up."

"Where did you go this afternoon?"

"A clinic. I have not been feeling well."

"What did they say?"

"Nothing serious. Just stress."

He stood and crossed the room, and his arms slid around my waist from behind.

His lips pressed against my neck, warm and slow. His hand moved down my stomach, and my whole body went still.

Not there.

If his palm stayed too long, he might feel the change. I covered his hand with mine and guided it to my hip. He did not question it. His mouth traveled up to my ear, and his other hand slid under the hem of my dress.

My head fell back against his chest.

What if I told him? What if, just once, he wanted this?

My heart lifted.