Chapter 1
"Take a Plan B when we're done."
Lucius Talbot lifted Seraphine Manners into his arms, no longer restraining his desire. He threw her roughly onto the bed, his devastatingly handsome face devoid of expression, his deep-set eyes utterly cold.
His large hands tore at her clothes, abandoning his usual gentlemanly restraint, revealing provocative lingerie underneath. Lucius's eyes darkened, his breathing heavier.
Seeing her plan working, Seraphine secretly rejoiced. Blushing, she wrapped her arms around his neck, but his next words drained the color from her face.
"So desperate, aren't you?" His gaze swept over her with contempt. "Drugging me, wearing lingerie—my wife resorting to a mistress's tricks? How pathetic."
Seraphine pretended not to hear, smiling seductively. "Are you going to take me or not?"
"Why refuse when you're offering yourself so cheaply?"
With that, he entered her mercilessly. No kisses, no caresses—just the brutal satisfaction of physical need. Her body ached, but her heart ached more.
Seraphine avoided looking at the disgust in Lucius's eyes. She tilted her head up to capture his thin lips, wrapping her legs around his waist to better receive him. She had asked for this. She couldn't blame anyone else.
Today was her ovulation day, and the third month of their cold war.
In two years of marriage, the times he'd made love to her could be counted on one hand. Even with the aphrodisiac she'd slipped into his drink, he'd resisted touching her until the last possible moment.
Her passionate kisses ignited his desire. He took control, exploring her mouth, their tongues intertwining.
In the heat of passion, their breaths mingled—faint tobacco, cologne, and a hint of coldness. She adored Lucius's scent, adored him completely. She would gladly spend a lifetime in a marriage of mutual respect but little passion.
Yet yesterday, Lucius's mother had haughtily informed her, "Seraphine, you've stolen twenty-four years of Elsie's life. The position of Lucius's wife rightfully belongs to the true Manners heiress. Now that she's returned, you know what to do, don't you, impostor?"
What was she to do? Naturally, return Lucius and the title of his wife to Elsie Manners.
In truth, Lucius had long tired of her. Their arranged marriage had been a mistake from the start. He resented all business marriages because of his parents' loveless union, and he particularly despised her—the woman the Manners family had forced upon him.
Now Elsie's return gave him the perfect excuse to leave her.
She had to get pregnant with Lucius's child before being expelled from the Talbot family. This was her obsession, her only leverage to hold onto him.
After what seemed like forever, their frenzied lovemaking finally ended. Seraphine was too exhausted to lift a finger.
Lucius showed no lingering affection, striding directly into the bathroom. The sound of running water came through, as if he were washing away something dirty.
Did he find her filthy?
Seraphine stared at his tall silhouette reflected in the glass door, her heart desolate.
Those two years in the countryside had been her happiest.
Lucius had suffered from a rare illness then—blind and paralyzed from the waist down. Though he couldn't see, he'd been incredibly tender with her.
He would feel his way to brush her hair, tracing her features with rough fingertips, asking again and again, "What do you look like? You must be beautiful."
On cold winter nights, he would hold her close, promising, "When I recover, I'll marry you properly and give you the greatest happiness in the world."
Now, without drugs, he wouldn't touch her. With drugs, she was merely a tool for his physical release.
Lucius emerged with a towel around his waist, his short hair still dripping. Water droplets traced the defined muscles of his abdomen, disappearing at his V-line.
"Your mother says Elsie has returned—that she's the true Manners heiress. She says our marriage was a mistake and you should marry Elsie instead. What do you think?" Seraphine's voice was soft as she watched him intently, desperate for his answer.
Lucius put on his shirt, buttoning it methodically with an innate elegance, completely ignoring her. Her heart sank with each passing moment.
Finally, he fastened the last cufflink, his face resuming its customary coldness, as if their passionate encounter had never happened.
He gave her an icy glance. "A mistake that should be corrected."
Without another word, he grabbed his jacket and left. The door closed with a dull thud, crushing Seraphine's last hope. Her heart contracted painfully. He had admitted it without hesitation.
After all her scheming—drugging him, wearing lingerie to seduce him, all to conceive his child—he was thinking about correcting his "mistake" by replacing her?
Seraphine sat motionless on the bed. Eventually, she lowered her head, placing her palm over her still-flat stomach. A glint of desperate obsession sparked in her eyes.
Lucius, you'll repay your debt to me with a child.
One month later.
Seraphine stared at the two bright red lines on the pregnancy test, her anxious heart finally settling.
This past month, she'd become a different person. She no longer carefully tried to please Lucius or waited fearfully for his approval. She abandoned shyness and dignity, boldly pursuing him with every trick she knew.
Perhaps because of her determination, Lucius initially pushed her away irritably, but eventually stopped resisting.
He didn't need much seduction before responding passionately. He would grip her waist tightly, and despite his harsh words, he gave her what she wanted. A month of wild passion, not a single day missed.
Now she was finally pregnant—she could stay by his side!
Seraphine, overjoyed, prepared to share the news with Lucius. Just as she stepped outside the villa, she saw his familiar black Rolls-Royce pull up.
The door opened, and Lucius emerged. Today he wasn't wearing a suit, but a casual gray cashmere sweater that softened his sharp features.
This softness, however, wasn't meant for her.
A woman in a white dress stepped out after him, affectionately linking her arm through his. It was Elsie, the so-called true Manners heiress.
Lucius said something to Elsie, his thin lips curving into a rare smile. It was a patience and tenderness Seraphine had never witnessed.
So he wasn't naturally cold—he simply refused to share even a fragment of his warmth with her.
Faint kiss marks were visible on Elsie's neck, painfully obvious to adult eyes.
A bitter smile crossed Seraphine's crimson lips. Lucius hadn't come home last night because he was with Elsie...
Now she was the unwanted one. If they discovered her pregnancy, they would surely do everything to make this child disappear!