She was pregnant.

Emily Greenwood clutched her belly, fingers trembling uncontrollably.

She didn’t even register the doctor’s congratulations. After three solid years of being frozen out, just when she was about to completely give up, this news hit her like light breaking through a pitch-dark sky.

Maybe… just maybe, if they had a baby, James might start treating her a bit better?

On the ride home, Emily leaned back in her seat and shut her tired eyes.

She arrived quickly, opened the door, kicked off her shoes, and called out for her husband. The silence that greeted her felt suffocating. Nobody answered. She gave a bitter laugh, the dull ache in her eyes hard to shake off.

She headed upstairs. Closer to the bedroom door, her steps slowed. That’s when she caught the faint sound of panting—it was soft, but unmistakable.

“James, you're hurting me…”

The coy, breathless voice hit her ears like a slap. Emily froze mid-step, her expression instantly clouded over.

That name was unmistakable.

She clenched her jaw and continued walking. No need to tiptoe—heels clacked loudly against the marble, echoing sharply and mixing with the increasingly heavy breathing from inside the room.

And yet, not a pause. If anything, the sounds got even more unrestrained.

Her face turned ghostly pale, but slowly, the emotion drained from her features, replaced by a chilling calm. Only she knew how shattered her heart was beneath that cold mask.

There, tangled on the very bed that once belonged to just the two of them, two bodies were intertwined in an all-too-familiar dance.

James’ black shirt was still on but wrinkled beyond recognition.

And the woman underneath him—Sophia Black—had makeup that was almost too perfect. Her skin? Porcelain smooth, practically glowing as she pressed against him.

Emily’s hand clenched around the crumpled test result in her palm. Her heart felt like it had been ground to dust. She gently rested her hand over her still-flat stomach. Nothing to see yet… but there was life growing inside.

Their child.

Sophia, noticing the noise, lifted her head and flashed a strange, smug smile. She patted James on the chest and quickly curled herself into a ball, pulling the covers over her.

“She’s back,” she whispered, ducking behind him like a scared little kitten.

James didn’t even flinch. He just narrowed his eyes slightly, then turned toward the door with that same unsettling grin, chilling and deliberate.

His shirt hung open, revealing a toned chest that was as distracting as it was irritating.

As if nothing had happened, he adjusted his shirt casually and said, “Something up?”

Emily’s gaze locked onto the faint red mark across his chest. Her face drained of color again, and her heart throbbed painfully.

She inhaled sharply, forced the tremor out of her voice, and shot Sophia a cold glare. “You have one minute. Get dressed and get out.”

Sophia peeked at James. Seeing that he still looked indifferent, she sniffed pathetically. “James tore up my clothes… I’ve got nothing left to wear.”

She might as well have said, “You want me gone? You’re gonna make me walk out nude?”

“Fine. Don’t leave—I will.” Emily laughed dryly, then took a long, hard look at the man beside her. The pain in her eyes was obvious now. The pregnancy report had been tucked away long ago—she absolutely couldn’t let him know she was pregnant.

James looked bored, the slightest hint of annoyance flashing across his face.

His lips curled into a faint smirk, seductive but cold.

He started buttoning up his shirt, took a few slow steps to the couch, then sat down effortlessly. Hands resting behind his head, ankles crossed like he owned the world. The pose itself oozed arrogance.He raised a brow, voice laced with biting sarcasm. "That little surprise earlier? A gift from me to you and your dear old man. Hope you both liked it."

His eyes were cold, locked on her back like a predator sizing up prey, carrying a mockery that made the air feel heavy.

Emily Greenwood sharply sucked in a breath and spun around, completely stunned that those words had come from him.

"James Carter, what the hell does that mean?" No matter how much she once loved him, she couldn't let him insult her father like that.

"Oh, I think I made it pretty obvious," James replied flatly, disgust clear in his face—he couldn’t even be bothered to look at her.

"Even if you hate me, how could you resent my dad too?" Emily's voice trembled with a mix of heartbreak and regret. Had she been wrong from the start? Was loving this man her biggest mistake?

"My dad—he ever do anything to hurt you? Ever once? He treated you like his own son! James, how can you be so damn heartless?"

"Heartless?" He let out a cold laugh, his eyes flashing sharply at her.

"Yeah, to get you into the Carter family, he did pull a few strings for me."

Emily’s face went pale in an instant. That was the one thing stuck between them like a thorn—it had always been there, unspoken. Unresolvable.

Her gaze dropped. She stood there for a few seconds, frozen, before spotting a pair of sleek black Italian leather shoes. Her eyes drifted up to long, perfectly straight legs any woman would envy.

Then her chin was yanked up, forced by his hand. James said coldly, "Since you care about me so much, I’m sure you won’t mind making it a threesome with Sophia. Isn’t that right, my dear wife?"

He almost spit the word “wife” out like poison.

"James…" Sophia acted bashful, but the jealousy flashing in her eyes couldn’t be hidden.

Emily’s heart clenched tight. She stared into those pitch-black eyes—ones she thought she knew so well—and inside them was a contempt she couldn’t recognize. Finally, she forced a smile.

"No thanks. I think a wife should know when to stay out of her husband’s fun."

"Is that so? Is that what you really think?" His smirk curled like a blade, cruel and cold.

That devastatingly handsome face—sculpted to perfection—only made everything sting more.

Emily froze for a couple seconds, just staring. So much that she didn’t register him moving until an icy hand slid under her clothes. The cold skin against hers made her body jolt.

She instinctively grabbed his hand, furious and flustered. "What the hell are you doing?"

"We're married. What do you think I’m doing?" he said smoothly, without a hint of shame.

She pushed him away with all her strength, creating enough space to break free. Then, without looking back, she bolted.

Behind her, he let out a dark, low laugh that made her surge of adrenaline spike even more.

As Emily dashed out the door and made it to the top of the stairs, a sudden force shoved her hard from behind.

She gasped, whipping her head up mid-fall, just in time to catch sight of the face behind the push—it was his mistress.

James had noticed her looking back. Standing at the top, he met her eyes briefly—as if glancing at nothing important. His sharp, chiseled features were completely blank, as if she were no more than a nuisance on the floor.

Sophia stepped forward, her voice soft but pointed. "Emily, how could you be so clumsy? And… James is your husband. Why would you fight him? Or… are you disgusted by him now?"

They stood tall, looking down like she was beneath them.

Emily tried to push herself up, hands fighting against the floor, heart in her throat as she instinctively cradled her belly. Then her gaze locked with James’s eyes—filled with mockery.

The corner of his mouth lifted. On that cold, unreadable face was a look that screamed disgust and something else… satisfaction.

Pain shot through her limbs, blinding and sharp. Emily’s pupils contracted, and in that moment of clarity, she realized—

All of this… every bit of it... had been James Carter’s plan from the very beginning.