one

The bedroom door opened. I knew it was Ethan.

Eagerly, I ducked under the covers and tugged at the neckline of my nightgown. The moment the mattress dipped, I practicedly slid right into my husband's embrace.

"Game time!"

I lunged up, capturing his lips. My tongue expertly parted his, deepening the kiss as I tasted him.

"Ethan..." I breathed heavily, leaning over him. My fingertips traced a familiar, dangerous path downward.

"Oh, darling. Let's skip the naughty nurse game tonight." Ethan wrapped his arms around my waist with a tired sigh and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead.

For three years, ever since Ethan's father left behind a grueling condition for his four-billion-dollar trust fund, we needed an heir. We threw ourselves into this desperate, love-fueled mission every single day. The windowsill, the living room sofa, even the garden—there wasn’t a corner of this estate where we hadn't made love.

"I love you, Ethan," I murmured, my hand slipping lower, stroking the inside of his thigh.

"Enough, Grace. I'm exhausted."

Ethan grabbed my wrist, pulled my hand away, and rolled over, facing the wall. He didn't even say goodnight. Within minutes, the only sound in the dead-quiet bedroom was his steady breathing.

This was the fifth night in a row.

For the past three years, Ethan had possessed an insatiable obsession with my body. But now, he wouldn't even touch me.

I kept telling myself it was just the stress. The Blackwell trust fund deadline was looming, and it was draining him.

At least, that was what I believed... until that day.

I stood quietly outside Ethan's office door, holding a thermos of rich, nourishing soup I'd spent hours making. My fingertips were inches from the wood when a heavy, muffled sound leaked through the crack.

"Ah... Ethan, harder!"

A woman's sweet, sickeningly familiar moan echoed, followed by the undeniable, wet sound of skin slapping against skin.

"Lily, it's been five consecutive days. Haven't you figured out what I can do to you yet?" Ethan's voice was thick with teasing banter and a lazy, sated arrogance I had never heard him use with me.

"Ah... ah... I'm just worried about you," Lily purred between breathless gasps. "Five days in a row... I don't want you to exhaust yourself."

"Don't worry, baby," he chuckled, his breath heavy. "Grace is definitely at home cooking some ridiculous supplement soup for me."

My hand froze mid-air.

Lily. Ethan's adopted sister. The same girl who always played the innocent, obedient angel, sweetly calling me "Grace" at every family dinner.

"Ah... getting drugged at that banquet and running into you... it must have been God's will." Lily's pants grew louder, more erratic. "Now I just want to give you an heir. I just want to take away your stress..."

I bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted copper. I pressed my ear against the cold wood, forcing myself to listen to the nightmare unfolding inside.

Bang!

I kicked the heavy door wide open. The thermos slipped from my grasp, shattering onto the polished floor. Thick broth spilled everywhere, but the rich scent of the soup couldn't mask the heavy, pungent stench of sex lingering in the air.

Lily was sprawled across Ethan’s desk, her skirt bunched up around her waist. She clung to his broad shoulders, her bare legs spread wide, her face flushed with the afterglow of climax.

"Oh, God!" she shrieked, instantly shrinking back and burying her face into my husband's bare chest like a terrified doe. But as she peeked over his arm, I saw the triumphant, venomous glint hiding in her eyes.

And my husband, Ethan Blackwell? He didn’t drop to his knees. He merely grabbed a tissue from the silver box on his desk, hastily wiping himself clean. His eyes darted away for a second, but there wasn't a single trace of guilt on his face.

"What are you doing?" I barely recognized my own voice. It trembled, broken and hollow.

Lily scrambled off the desk and huddled into the corner of the leather sofa. She covered her mouth with both hands, her bare shoulders trembling.

"Grace... I'm so sorry. I... I just wanted to help you. To help him..."

"Shut your mouth!" I lunged forward, pointing a shaking finger right at her face.

"Grace!" Ethan barked.

He quickly stepped between us, his large hands clamping down on my shoulders like iron grips. He forced me to look up into his striking blue eyes.

"Grace, calm down. Let me explain. It's not what you think."

He stared at me with an expression of absolute sincerity. For a split second, my foolish heart actually paused, waiting for some miracle excuse.

"You're the love of my life. Our nights together over the past three years prove that."

"But... Grace," he continued, a sudden edge of repressed frustration bleeding into his tone. "It's been three years. Three years, and your stomach is still completely flat!"

"I didn't want to break your heart," he sighed. "But since you caught us, I won't hide it anymore."

He reached into his drawer, pulled out a folded medical report, and shoved it into my hand.

My fingers trembled as I unfolded the paper. Patient Name: Grace Blackwell. Below it, the diagnosis was printed in bold, unforgiving letters: Infertile.

I jerked my head up, a dry sob tearing at my throat.

"This is a fake! I literally just booked an appointment with the top fertility specialist this morning—"

"Enough!" Ethan interrupted, grabbing both sides of my face. "The trust expires in less than a year! If we don't produce an heir with Blackwell blood, we’ll be thrown out to the streets! Do you understand that?"

"I love you, Grace. I refuse to let you live in poverty!"

As he said that, he crashed his lips down onto mine, forcing a deep, messy kiss—the exact way he used to comfort me. But his mouth tasted like sex, and his shirt reeked of Lily's sickly-sweet perfume. A violent wave of nausea hit my stomach.

I bit down hard on his bottom lip until I tasted blood. Shoving him backward with all my mocking strength, I finally let a single tear slip.

"So... you drink the soup I made for you with my own hands, just so you have enough energy to breed your adopted sister?"

"Grace, how can you speak to him like that?" Lily padded over barefoot, brazenly wrapping her bare arms around Ethan’s waist. "Every single night he’s in my room... even when he's thrusting inside me, he’s screaming your name. Why can't you just understand how hard this is for him?"

I stared at the two of them standing so seamlessly together. I looked at Lily’s pathetic, crying face that couldn't hide its poisonous, victorious smirk. The utter absurdity of it all made me want to laugh.

Three years ago, Ethan took me away from a sterile hospital. He told me I had been in a terrible car crash, that I had lost my memories, and that he was my savior. He had held me tight, given me a home, and painted a perfect picture of our life. For three years, I had relied on him with every fiber of my being. He was my entire world.

I looked at the man I had worshipped for over a thousand days, my voice cracking into a dry whisper.

"Ethan... did it really have to be this way?"

"Who do you think I'm doing this for?!" Ethan roared, throwing his arms wide to gesture at his lavish, multi-million-dollar office. "Do you think I want this? Every single time I sink into her, I push down my guilt! I pretend it's you!"

"Grace, I love you. That will never change," he pleaded, taking a step toward me. "Just bear with this for one year. One year. As soon as the baby is born and the trust fund clears, I’ll kick Lily to the curb. We'll go back to being the perfect husband and wife. Okay?"

He still reeked of sex and betrayal as he stepped forward to pull me into a suffocating hug.

My gaze dropped slightly. His zipper was still half-open. The undeniable proof of his arousal thrust aggressively against his slacks. The sight of it pierced my heart like a rusty dagger.

"Ethan, you make me physically sick."

I glared dead into his eyes, violently turning my head away to avoid his approaching lips.

Ethan’s expression instantly darkened into something icy and ruthless.

"Grace, don't forget where you came from. You don't even know your own past. The platinum card in your wallet is under my name. Your house, your ridiculous lifestyle, even your pathetic life—I gave it all to you. If you leave me, you won't even have a dime to pay for a motel tonight. And you dare call me sick?"

He shoved me away, practically throwing me back toward the door. Turning around, he pulled a waiting, eager Lily back into his arms.

"Save your tears and your pathetic temper, Grace. I compromised my body for you. Everything I do, I do for our love!"