Moving into Darius’s mansion felt unreal—like I had wandered into someone else’s life.
He gave me the largest room. The bed was soft, the sheets smooth as silk, the closet filled with clothes I never imagined wearing. Shoes were arranged by color, jewelry catching the light with every small movement.
Every morning, breakfast was brought straight to my door. Every evening, he returned with gifts. But he never once took me outside.
No dinners out. No parties. Not even a simple walk.
One night, I gathered the courage to ask, “Can I come with you next time?”
He just smiled, leaned closer, and kissed me instead of answering.
And just like that, my question disappeared.
The staff hardly spoke to me. Their eyes passed over me like I wasn’t there. A few offered polite smiles, most simply bowed and left. I tried to act like it didn’t bother me.
I kept telling myself it was enough. I loved him. He said I belonged to him. That should’ve been enough… right?
One evening, while holding me, Darius murmured, “Someday, I’ll make you my wife.”
I believed every word.
Our nights were always quiet. He’d pull me close, run his fingers through my hair, and stay silent. For the first time in years, I felt safe. Like maybe I finally had a place where I belonged.
When he left for Paris, he pressed a kiss to my forehead and whispered, “Wait for me.”
So I did.
Days passed. Then weeks.
No calls. No messages. Still, I waited.
Then one morning, as I was clearing my breakfast tray, I overheard the maids talking in the hallway.
“I heard Mr. Voss’s fiancée is studying in Paris,” one whispered.
The other sounded shocked. “Then what about the girl here? Kaia? I thought she was the fiancée.”
A quiet laugh followed. “No. She’s just someone to warm his bed.”
The words hit harder than anything I’d ever endured. I went back to my room, closed the door, and cried until my eyes burned dry.
The next morning, my body felt off. Heavy. The smell of food made me nauseous. Every time I stood, the room spun.
One of the maids noticed. “You should get checked,” she said.
So I went—alone. My hands trembled the entire way.
After the test, the doctor gave me a gentle smile. “You’re pregnant,” she said. “About two months.”
For a moment, everything stopped. Then my heart started racing. I clutched the paper to my chest, tears falling freely.
“He’ll be happy,” I whispered. “He has to be.”
I thanked the doctor and hurried back, holding the result like it was something precious.
Maybe this would change things. Maybe now, I’d finally matter.
When I reached the mansion, I heard voices coming from the living room.
His voice.
My heart leapt. He was back.
I ran toward it, smiling so wide it hurt.
Then I heard laughter.
A woman’s laughter.
I froze.
No… it couldn’t be. I knew that sound.
I pushed the door open.
Elowen was sitting on Darius’s lap, kissing him.
His hands rested on her waist.
They both looked up. Darius’s expression was cold—like I meant nothing. Like he didn’t even recognize me. And Elowen? She blinked, acting surprised.
“What are you doing here?”
Darius didn’t even move. “Where have you been?” he asked flatly, then added, “Go prepare drinks and snacks for my guest.”
For a second, I couldn’t breathe.
My voice came out small as I stared at her. “W-why are you here?”
She let out a short, sharp laugh. “You’re seriously asking me that?”
She raised her hand, showing off a diamond ring. It glittered under the light. “I’m Darius Voss’s fiancée. See this?”
Everything inside me went cold. The room seemed to tilt.
No… that couldn’t be true.
I turned to Darius, my lips trembling. “T-tell me she’s lying.”
He didn’t even look at me. His jaw tightened, his eyes somewhere else.
The silence said everything.
Elowen stepped closer, her perfume suffocating. “Babe,” she said sweetly, turning to him, “why is that Langford servant in your house?” She pointed at me like I was nothing. “Didn’t I tell you about her? She’s the reason my parents are dead. Evander and Leonhart hate her for it. They locked her away for years. And now you bring her here? That hurts, Darius. It really does.”
My throat tightened. I could barely breathe.
Each word felt like it was tearing through me.
I waited—just one word from him. Anything.
But Darius only sighed. His voice was cold. Detached. “Elowen, relax. I only brought her here to keep my bed warm. Nothing more.”
My knees weakened. My hands trembled.
The words didn’t feel real.
So that was all I was.
The maid had been right.
The man I thought had saved me—the one who promised me safety, a future—was no different from the rest.
“Oh… I see,” Elowen said, tilting her head like she understood. “You’re a man. You have your needs. Fine.”
She walked up to him, grabbed his collar, and kissed him right in front of me—slow, deliberate.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even look away.
When she pulled back, she turned to me, her eyes burning.
“You bitch,” she hissed—
And before I could react, her hand struck my face.
SLAP!
