Chapter 1

Evelyn Carter clutched the pregnancy test results as she stepped back into the grand foyer of the Whitmore estate, her fingers trembling.

"Congratulations, you're one month pregnant. Everything looks perfect."

Was this real? Was she really carrying Nathaniel's child?

Her pulse raced as she pulled out her phone, hesitating before typing a message to her husband. Will you be home for dinner tonight?

The seconds stretched into an eternity. Nathaniel despised interruptions during work hours, and more often than not, her texts went unanswered.

Then—her screen lit up. His reply was curt. Yes. I have something to discuss with you.

Relief washed over her, quickly replaced by nervous energy. She rushed to prepare dinner, her mind spinning. Placing the test results face-down on the dining table, she bit her lip. Was she being too obvious?

By evening, a sleek black limousine rolled into the driveway. Nathaniel emerged, his tailored suit jacket slung over one shoulder, his sharp features illuminated by the golden sunset.

"Nathaniel, you're home." Evelyn hurried forward, reaching for his jacket—but instead, he handed her a stack of papers. Her stomach dropped.

"Read through this. State any demands you have."

Her gaze fell to the first page. Divorce Agreement. The words glared back at her, stark and brutal.

Nathaniel loosened his tie, exhaustion lining his face as he studied her. She still looked so young, with soft cheeks and wide, innocent eyes.

He felt nothing for her. Their marriage had been his grandmother's wish, a transaction to improve the old woman's health. If not for that one night a month ago, he might have forgotten they were even married.

Keeping up this charade was unfair—to both of them.

Evelyn pressed a hand to her stomach, her voice barely above a whisper. "Hypothetically... if I told you I was pregnant, would you still want this divorce?"

Nathaniel's eyes snapped to her abdomen. His jaw tightened. "I told you to take the morning-after pill."

That night had been a mistake—the only slip in three years of a cold, distant marriage.

She flinched, pulling her hand away, but Nathaniel caught her wrist. His grip was firm. "Are you pregnant?"

Her breath hitched. "Answer me first. If I were, would you want this baby?"

"No."

A single word, sharp as a blade.

He released her, and the emptiness in her chest yawned wider. She watched him walk away, blinking back tears. His rejection cut deeper than she'd ever admit.

The dinner she'd spent hours preparing sat untouched, now cold. With a heavy heart, she dumped it into the trash, nausea twisting her stomach.

Her fingers brushed her belly. A tiny life grew inside her—one Nathaniel didn’t want. But I do.

She had been an orphan, cast aside by her adoptive parents when their own twins were born. Only her aunt, Margaret Dawson, had shown her kindness.

All Evelyn had ever wanted was a family. She’d tried so hard to be the perfect wife, but Nathaniel’s heart was stone.

Still, she wouldn’t be alone anymore. Not after this.

Without reading the divorce papers, she signed the last page.

That night, she slept in the master bedroom alone, just as she had for the past three years. Nathaniel, as always, retreated to his study.

The next morning, Beatrice Harrington’s call shattered the silence.

"Evelyn, prepare the second-floor guest suite. A visitor will be staying with you. Make sure she’s comfortable."

The line went dead before Evelyn could ask who it was.

She sighed. Beatrice’s disdain for her was nothing new.

By the time she descended the stairs, Nathaniel had already left for work.

Then, in the afternoon, a woman strode into the living room—flawless, draped in designer labels. Evelyn’s breath caught.

This was the guest? A stunning stranger?