“I wanted to give you every bit of the pure, stubborn affection I’ve held onto all my life… and all the softness I never showed anyone else.” —Harrison Caldwell

B City, Caldwell family villa.

Elena Caldwell sat alone on the master bedroom balcony, wrapped in the glow of a luxurious room yet feeling cold straight to the bone. The heater hummed, blasting warm air, but none of it reached her.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the empty courtyard below, as blank as her thoughts. Everything inside her felt like it had sunk into an ice cellar.

It was only the second day after she married into the Caldwell family, yet the groom hadn’t come home even once. She had finally married the man she’d loved for ten years, but to Harrison, she was nothing more than some enemy shoved into his life.

...

Harrison stumbled in close to midnight. Elena had been drifting in that hazy half‑sleep when the mattress dipped beside her. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she snapped her eyes open. Under the dim yellow glow of the wall lamp, Harrison’s sharply handsome face came into view.

He reeked of alcohol—so strong she had to squint and turn her head slightly, her brows knitting up tight.

This was the first time she’d seen him since the wedding. He’d abandoned her in front of all those nosy guests and fake relatives, leaving her standing alone while people whispered behind their hands. If his grandmother hadn’t stepped in with a lie about him rushing someone to the hospital, news of her being ditched at her own wedding would’ve flooded the whole of B City by morning.

Elena clenched the blanket with trembling fingers and whispered, voice tense, “Harrison… you… you’re back?”

Harrison only gave her a long, cutting stare—so intense it felt like he could burn a hole straight through her. Her heartbeat kicked up even more.

Before she could think of what to do, he was already tugging off his jacket, his movements swift and messy, and then he pressed her down beneath him.

The heat of his body and that overwhelming smell of alcohol made Elena’s nerves snap tight. Even her toes curled from the discomfort.

She pushed at his chest in panic, but he caught both her hands easily, pinning them above her head. His other hand grabbed her chin and forced her to face him, their eyes locking.

He let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Elena Caldwell, you couldn’t wait to drag yourself into the Caldwell family. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”

His voice dipped low, venom threaded through every word. “Always using Grandma to corner me. Isn’t your goal just to get a kid out of me? What’s with the act now?”

Her mind went blank. She stared at him, stunned, as if the strength to think had been ripped out of her.

When had Harrison turned into someone like this? Where was the boy he used to be—the one who worried she’d get mugged walking home at night and insisted on escorting her?

The pain hit her hard, sharp enough to steal her breath. Those cruel words felt like they were peeling off her skin layer by layer, leaving her nowhere to hide.

But beneath the hurt, one thought stirred—her original intention, the reason she’d wanted this marriage, this bond, this future.

And it broke her all over again.

She really did want a baby—not just because she’d promised his grandmother, but because she loved him, loved him to the point it felt carved into her bones.

She’d fallen for Harrison Caldwell at twelve, headfirst and hopeless. Ten whole years had passed, and she’d spent every one of them dreaming about marrying him, having a child that belonged to both of them, building a life she thought would be beautiful.

But the way he looked at her now—those eyes burning like open flames—made her blood run cold. It wasn’t affection. It wasn’t even anger. It was the sharp, chilling stare of someone eyeing prey that had been trapped far too long. Her heart seized, and she instinctively stepped back, breath catching in her throat.

Like he’d ever let her get away.

He didn’t care if she was hurting or begging him to stop; it was as if he wanted to push her straight to the edge. And through it all, that look in his eyes never changed—mocking, cold, filled to the brim with disgust.