Everyone in Northport's socialite circle said the same thing: sure, Stanley Dudley—heir to the Dudley empire—was devastatingly handsome and obscenely rich, but he was cold-blooded, morally bankrupt, and for any woman looking for love, the worst possible choice.
Chloe Quinn didn't believe it. People weren't born heartless. He couldn't be that bad.
It wasn't until he had her strapped to an operating table, ready to terminate the baby inside her, that she finally admitted how naive she'd been.
After the divorce, Chloe turned toward the man who had always waited for her with quiet patience.
And the wolf she'd left behind? His eyes went red.
At a gala, Stanley shattered her suitor's leg in front of everyone.
Chloe finally snapped. "Stanley, how long are you going to keep this up?"
The violence drained from his face. His finger curled gently around hers. "Until you're willing to take my hand and lead me home."
Later, the tabloids captured a photo that stunned the entire city.
In the hallway outside Chloe's apartment building, the most powerful man in the Dudley family sat on the floor next to a stray dog.
"They really do look alike," the security guard muttered before he could stop himself.
Stanley didn't bother looking up. "Please. That mutt wishes it were as cute as me."
Chloe lowered herself onto the waterbed. The mattress swayed beneath her, rippling like disturbed water.
Her eyes drifted to the display case nearby. The adult toys arranged inside—their shapes explicit, their purposes unmistakable—made her fingers twitch. Her pulse quickened.
She was pregnant. Just past three months. To be safe, they still shouldn't be doing anything.
While her mind wandered, a hand wearing a wedding band pressed down on her shoulder, guiding her onto her back.
His lips found the curve of her neck.
The kiss sent electricity shooting through her limbs. Her lashes fluttered wildly. From the corner of her eye, she caught his profile.
An impossibly perfect face. The line from his brow to the tip of his nose, the clean arc of his jaw—every angle looked sculpted, almost too beautiful to be real.
But the mermaid skull tattooed behind his ear ruined the illusion. It was a reminder of exactly who this man was.
The most reckless soul in Northport. A circle of friends as depraved as they came. The city's number-one playboy wastrel.
Stanley Dudley.
"Honey." She pushed at him lightly. "Let me use the bathroom."
Stanley lifted his head. His narrow eyes swept upward at the corners, vulpine and hypnotic—like a fox spirit who'd learned to wear a man's skin.
"Running away again?" His hand slid slowly to her belly. "It's been three months. The doctor said we could."
Chloe pressed her lips together. A dull ache throbbed in her chest.
That afternoon, she'd accidentally overheard Stanley on the phone with one of his lowlife friends: "Fucking annoying. Turns out it's a girl. If it's not the old man's grandson, it's completely useless. I can't exactly drag her to the clinic, so how the hell do I get rid of it?"
She and Stanley had met—and conceived this child—by pure accident.
Three months ago, she'd been walking home through an alley after working late. A drunk's slurred obscenities sent her bolting in panic, straight into a private room near the elevator of an upscale club.
A woman inside asked who she was looking for. Chloe explained what happened, and the woman let her stay, promising to have someone drive her home after their gathering ended.
As the evening wore on and she relaxed around the group, she'd had a few drinks.
Then she went to the bathroom—and found Stanley slumped against the wall, eyes unfocused, breathing hard.
Catching him in such a vulnerable state, she'd asked out of politeness if he was alright.
He pinned her to the wall.
And just like that, she lost her virginity.
The experience had been terrifying, yes, but also strangely disorienting—shot through with a pleasure she couldn't name. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was because Stanley was so absurdly beautiful that her brain short-circuited.
That night, she hadn't exactly resisted. It wasn't force.
By the time she sobered up, regret was pointless. She told herself to treat it as a drunken one-night stand with a gorgeous stranger and move on.
Two weeks later, her whole body felt wrong. Her mother took her to the hospital.
She was pregnant.
She had to tell her mother about that night. Her mother did some digging, discovered Stanley was the young master of the Dudley family, and went to their estate alone. What exactly her mother negotiated, Chloe never learned.
But whatever was said, the Dudleys made Stanley marry her.
Now the baby was three months along. She and Stanley had been married for two.
During those two months, Stanley had treated her well. He took her traveling across the country, introduced her to his friends. Anything she glanced at twice, he bought without hesitation. He called her "honey" and "wife" constantly.
Sure, after she'd gotten to know him, people warned her he wasn't a good man.
But a handsome villain who'd never actually killed or robbed anyone—who just indulged in every pleasure money could buy—had a certain dangerous charm.
Chloe had been single her entire life. She never stood a chance against Stanley's relentless affection.
Feelings had a way of growing on their own. Somewhere along the way, she'd fallen for him.
A week ago, she'd even thought: maybe their story started absurdly, but they could still be happy together.
That day, the temperature in Northport had dropped. When they stepped outside and she rubbed her hands together, Stanley immediately grabbed them and said, "Honey, it's getting cold here. Let's spend a few days in Harborcrest—it's warmer there."
She'd agreed happily.
Until that phone call this afternoon shattered everything.
The trip to Harborcrest wasn't about showing her a good time.
He'd brought her here to get the baby's blood tested. To find out if it was a boy or a girl.
When the clinic confirmed it was a girl, Stanley had wrapped his arm around her and cooed about how wonderful daughters were, how she'd be his little princess.
Then he turned around and showed his true face to his friends.
Chloe's thoughts snapped back to the present. She forced a small smile, turning her head to dodge his kiss while pressing both palms firmly against his chest.
"The doctor may have said it's okay, but every situation is different. My stomach's been bothering me. What if we hurt the baby?"
Stanley froze. His eyes narrowed sharply.
Chloe swallowed, careful not to let it show. He knew what she was thinking.
But she hadn't confronted him directly. Even if he'd guessed, so what?
Stanley's lips curled into a wicked smile.
His thumb traced up to her throat, settling over her pulse. The pressure slowly increased.
His expression made it look like he was just initiating some rough foreplay—but the tightening grip sent genuine panic flooding through her. At the same time, his other hand yanked at her blouse. Buttons popped and scattered.
"How could we possibly hurt the baby? Your husband knows what he's doing. Be good..."
His mouth sealed over hers before she could respond.
She made sounds against his lips, but he ignored them completely. His large hand, all sharp knuckles and long fingers, slid down to her waist.
