บททั้งหมดของ The Devil’s Bride: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

Alexander’s POVI sat on the edge of the bed, my eyes on Megan, her body curled under the sheets, her dark hair spilling across the pillow. The morning light slipped through the curtains, hitting her face, soft and quiet in sleep. Her red dress, torn to hell from last night, lay crumpled on the floor, a reminder of how I fucked her against the door, raw, angry, desperate. Her moans, her nails in my hair, her body giving in, still burned in my head. My chest tightened, a mix of want and guilt twisting my gut. She was mine, but I’d hurt her, again, and her word“This doesn’t mean I forgive you” cut deeper than I’d admit.I reached out, my fingers brushing her hair, soft, careful, like she might break. She looked peaceful, her chest rising slow, her lips parted. I wanted to kiss her, hold her, make her mine again, but my father’s voice echoed, cold as ice: “Produce an heir, Alexander. Soon. Or the Zeus empire falls to someone else.” His warning from last week, delivered over whiskey

Megan’s POVTwo weeks had passed since I broke down because of Alexander. I’d been dodging him, keeping my distance, my heart raw from his flirty dominance, his promises, his control. The mansion felt like a cage, his hazel eyes always watching, waiting for me to give in.Breakfast this morning was tense, just us at the long dining table, his tatted arms flexing as he cut his steak, his voice low, flirty, trying to pull me in.“You look good today, baby,” he said, his lips curling, but I just stared at my plate, my stomach churning, not from his words but something else.I pushed my eggs around, my fork shaking, a wave of nausea hitting me hard. My face went hot, my mouth watering, and I dropped the fork, the clatter loud in the quiet room. Alexander’s eyes snapped to me, his brow furrowing. “Megan, you okay?” he asked, his voice sharp, not flirty now, his hand reaching across the table.“I’m fine,” I lied, my voice weak, standing fast, my chair scraping the floor. My stomach twis

**Megan’s POV**Alexander’s cold order to the driver “She’s not to leave this house again” burned in my ears as we stepped out of the SUV, the mansion looming like a prison. My tears were still wet, my hands shaking, my heart pounding with the impossible truth: I was pregnant. A doctor years ago swore my womb was too damaged to carry a baby, yet here I was, tied to Alexander forever. His tatted arm gripped mine, his face unreadable, his silence heavy as he pulled me inside, my sweater loose, my chest heaving, my stomach twisting with shock and fear.“You can’t lock me up,” I whispered, my voice raw, yanking my arm free, my tears falling as we hit the foyer. “I’m not your damn captive, Alexander.”My hands clenched, my heart racing, the word *pregnant* choking me, my mind stuck on that old doctor’s words He turned, his hazel eyes hard, flirty but cold, grabbing my shoulders, his grip firm, dominant. “You’re my wife, Megan,” he growled, his voice sharp. “You’re carrying my kid. You

**Megan’s POV**My hands shook as I reached for the note on the floor, its edges sharp in the moonlight, my heart pounding from Victor’s cold words“Pray it’s a male child.”I was still trapped in this room, my sweater damp from tears, my chest tight with the shock of being pregnant when a doctor years ago swore my womb was too scarred to carry a baby. I unfolded the paper, my breath catching, expecting a threat from Victor or Alexander’s flirty dominance, but the handwriting was old, faded, addressed to *“My Son.”* My eyes scanned the words, my heart stopping as I read.“Alexander, your wife has failed us. No heir, no legacy. Divorce her. The Zeus name needs a son, not excuses. Find a woman who can deliver.” It was signed, Victor Zeus, dated years ago, the paper creased like it had been folded tight, carried for ages. My stomach twisted,it must’ve fallen from Victor’s pocket when he was here, threatening me about a male heir. Alexander had a wife before me, divorced because she coul

Megan’s POV“You gotta look good, ma’am,” Lila said, her voice shaky, laying a black dress on the desk in the small office room Alexander gave me to get ready. My hands trembled, my heart pounding as I stared at the mirror, my old blouse loose, my eyes red from crying. His demand last night to work here hit me hard, and the note I found, Victor’s letter about divorcing his ex-wife for no heir made my stomach twist with fear of having a girl instead of a boy.“This place is a trap,” I said, my voice low, touching the dress, its fabric sleek, too fancy. “I’m just his toy, Lila. He’s gonna parade me around like I’m nothing.” My chest tightened, my fear of failing Alexander, or failing Victor.“Mr. Alexander chose it himself,” Lila said, her eyes darting away, her hands fidgeting. “He wants you looking like his wife, ma’am. You gotta wear it.” Her voice was nervous, like she feared him, making my heart race faster.“Why does he care so much?” I snapped, my voice raw, my hands shaking as