Damian

For 18 months, you had been Damian Reyes's wife . The marriage happened because both your fathers signed a merger deal and sealed it with "our kids will carry on the legacy."

Damian never wanted it. He told you that on your wedding night, without even looking at you. "Don’t get attached," he said. "This ends when the contracts are renewed."

And somewhere in those 18 months, you still made the mistake of caring. You cooked for him. You covered for him in board meetings. You knew about her. Everyone in their circle did.

Clara. A socialite. Always at his side at galas. The way his shoulders relaxed when she laughed. The way they went rigid when you entered the room.

"You knew what this was," he reminded you once. "Don’t play the wounded wife."

You smiled. That night because u accepted it

Then one night at the family charity event, everything shattered.

You had gone to the estate greenhouse to get away from the cameras. That’s where you found her. On the phone.

Curiosity pinned you to the doorframe.

"..I have already prepared fake pregnancy reports...by paying a doctor"clara said to her friend

Clara laughed, low.. Men like Damian eat that up. ‘I’m pregnant with your heir.’ He’ll divorce that wife of his by next week. And once I’m Mrs. Reyes, I get half of everything."

Your hands went numb.

. By the time anyone asks, I’ll have a fake ‘miscarriage’. So tragic." Clara said while laughing Rage hit before grief could. You stepped inside. "You’re disgusting." Clara spun, eyes wide, then calculated. Fast. Too fast. "Damian!" she screamed before you could say another word. "Help!" Guests poured in. Damian. His father. The press that had been invited for photos. And Clara... she was already backing up toward the infinity pool behind the greenhouse. Heels slipping on wet tile. You reached out. "Don’t—" She shrieked and fell. Splash. Water. Gasping. Hands clutching her stomach. "She pushed me!" Clara sobbed the second Damian pulled her out. "She said if I was pregnant with your baby she’d kill us both!" The crowd went silent. Damian’s face went blank. That scary blank he used before ruining someone in a deal. "You came here to do this?" His voice was quiet. Deadly. "At my father’s event?" "I heard her," you said, voice shaking. "She’s lying. There’s no baby. I have it on—"

"Stop." The slap echoed louder than the splash. Your cheek stung. Your vision blurred. 30 people watched. His mother covered her mouth. Cameras flashed. "That’s enough," Damian said. He grabbed your arm and dragged you to the pool edge. "You want to hurt her? You want to hurt my child?" "Damian, I didn’t—" He shoved. The water was freezing. Silk dress dragging you down. You came up sputtering, hair in your face, while Clara cried on his shoulder, perfectly. For 18 months you had been invisible in your own marriage. And now you were the villain in front of everyone. Hands grabbed your arms from behind before you could sink again It was Nico. Damian’s younger brother. The quiet one. The one who fixed the estate well being and never came to dinners. He hauled you out, wrapped you in his suit jacket, and didn’t look at Damian once. "Ambulance. Now," Nico snapped at security. "She’s in shock." In the hospital, wrapped in blankets, Nico sat beside your bed while a nurse checked you for cuts. His phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then turned it to you. Hours later, Damian came in. Alone. Tie loosened. Eyes red-rimmed, but not from crying but with rage and coldness. He stood at the foot of your bed and looked at you — really looked — for the first time in 18 months. "Was humiliating her in front of my entire family worth it?" he asked, voice rough. "Was your jealousy worth nearly drowning my unborn child? Tell me... Nico stood up. "Don’t." Damian didn’t move. He was still waiting for your answer.