All Chapters of His Forbiden Bride: Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

Olivia Miller had spent three years believing that love was measured in how much you were willing to bleed. She had bled willingly.Every two months, she sat in the cold clinic chair and watched her rare blood—AB negative—fill bag after bag marked with Hazel’s name. The needles left bruises that lasted weeks. The dizziness made the world tilt. Still, she smiled when Sebastian kissed her forehead afterward and whispered,"You’re my miracle." She saved every payment, every quiet sacrifice, for the woman who had given her life and now lay silent in a hospital bed—her mother.Sebastian had promised forever and tonight, forever smelled like expensive champagne and sex that did not belong to her.Olivia stood in the doorway of the hotel suite, key card digging into her palm. The bed was a tangle of white sheets and bare limbs. Sebastian’s back—familiar, broad, the same back she had traced with her fingers for years—moved between Hazel’s spread thighs. Her stepsister’s nails scored red lines

Olivia woke to the feeling of a large, warm hand splayed possessively over her bare stomach. For a disorienting second she forgot where she was. Then memory crashed back in waves—the contract, the hospital, Daniel’s mouth on her breast, the way he had made her come apart with nothing but his fingers while remaining fully clothed and in complete control. Heat flooded her cheeks.She was lying in the center of an enormous bed, sheets of black silk tangled around her hips. Her sweater and leggings were gone. She wore only her underwear and one of Daniel’s white shirts, the fabric soft and oversized, carrying his scent. Morning light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the penthouse in pale gold.Daniel sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed in dark trousers and an open black shirt. He was watching her with an intensity that made her pulse stumble."You sleep like someone who’s been running on empty for years," he said quietly. His hand flexed once against her stom

The private hospital wing smelled of sterile air and money. Soft lighting, thick carpets, and silent nurses who never made eye contact created the illusion of calm. Olivia walked beside Daniel, her fingers cold despite the warmth of his hand at the small of her back. The black dress he had chosen for her was modest enough for a hospital visit, yet still clung in ways that reminded her she no longer dressed for herself.Her mother’s room was at the end of the corridor. Through the glass, Olivia saw the still figure on the bed—pale, connected to machines, but breathing. The lead surgeon had already confirmed that the twelve-hour window had been enough. The critical phase was over. Recovery would be long, but survival was no longer a question.Daniel did not release her until they stood inside the room. Only then did he step back, giving her space while remaining close enough that his presence filled the air.Olivia approached the bed slowly. Her mother’s hand felt fragile when she took