I opened the hotel room door with a smile, thinking today would be just like any other—except it wasn't.
The moment the door swung open, that smile died in my throat.
My fiancé… naked. And not alone.
Another woman—someone beautiful, someone familiar, laughing at something only he whispered. My roses slipped from my hands and scattered across the carpet like forgotten promises.
I froze.
Neither of them noticed me for a heartbeat. My heart hammered like a war drum, and I wanted to scream. To cry. To collapse. But I couldn't. Not here. Not now.
"Amara?" he said, scrambling off the bed. "This isn't what it looks like."
I laughed, a thin, broken sound that didn't belong to me anymore.
"Really?" My voice trembled. "Because it looks exactly like betrayal."
The woman wrapped herself in the sheets, her eyes wide with shame—or maybe pity. That hurt more than the cheating. Her pity made me feel invisible, like I didn't even exist in the world he'd just shared with someone else.
"Get dressed," I said quietly. "Both of you."
He rushed toward me. "Listen, I can explain—"
"Don't," I cut him off, stepping back. "You've already said enough."
The woman's face fell. I don't know if she realized she was stepping into the ruins of my life, or if she didn't care. Maybe she didn't know what she was destroying. Maybe she didn't care.
I turned and walked out before my legs could give out, every step feeling heavier than the last. My vision blurred, my chest tight. The corridor of the hotel felt endless, like a tunnel of shadows mocking me with each step.
Back in my apartment, the air was too still. Too heavy. Too loud. Every tick of the clock sounded like a mocking countdown to the life I'd lost.
I sank into my couch, the engagement ring heavy on my finger. Five years of love—or at least, what I thought was love—smashed in a single moment.
I wanted to call someone, anyone, but no one could fix this.
My phone buzzed. A message from my best friend: "Are you okay?"
I stared at it and typed: "No."
That wasn't enough. I needed more than anyone could offer. I needed a miracle.
I closed my eyes, remembering the first time he kissed me—soft, gentle, promising forever. Back then, I had believed in love. I had believed in us.
Now… what was left? Just a room full of lies and a man who had shattered everything without a second thought.
I stared at the wall, wishing time could rewind. Or at least pause. But life didn't work that way.
Three weeks later, the pregnancy test sat on the bathroom counter. I stared at it, hands shaking.
Positive.
A wave of panic rolled over me. No. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not after everything.
I sank to the floor, my back pressed against the cold tiles. My heart raced. My mind screamed. I could barely breathe.
Every thought spiraled.
How could I be so stupid?
Who is the father?
What happens to my career, my family, my life?
The sound of my phone ringing made me jump.
Lucien Blackwood: "Have you considered the offer?"
I froze. How did he know? My fingers trembled as I typed back, hands shaking uncontrollably.
Me: "What happens if I refuse?"
The reply came instantly: "Then everything you love disappears."
I closed my eyes. The words weren't a threat—they were a reality.
The next evening, he arrived at my apartment. Tall. Cold. Dangerous. Everything about him screamed power, and I hated that I noticed.
"Sit," he said. No pleasantries. No warmth. Just authority.
I hesitated, then obeyed.
He slid a folder across the table. My eyes fell on the title: Marriage Contract.
I swallowed hard. "I don't… I can't."
"You can," he said calmly, eyes sharp. "You have no other choice. Sign it, and I'll save your family's company. Refuse, and you'll lose everything."
My pulse raced. My chest tightened. I could feel my stomach knotting, not just from fear, but from the secret growing inside me.
A child. My child. His child—or maybe not his, I didn't know yet.
"You're asking me to marry you? After everything?" I whispered, voice breaking.
"You have no choice. Not if you want to survive," Lucien said. His tone was so controlled, so precise, it made my heart ache and my anger flare at the same time.
I looked at the papers again. Terms, clauses, conditions… all calculated to trap me, to leave me powerless. And yet, somehow, that frightened me less than the truth about what I carried.
"You'll regret this," I muttered.
He leaned back, expression unchanging. "Regret is a matter of perspective. You will learn that soon enough."
I wanted to argue, to fight, to scream. But I had no energy. I was too raw, too shaken.
I thought of my parents, struggling to keep their business afloat. I thought of my siblings, who relied on me more than ever.
If I refused, they would lose everything.
If I signed, I would lose myself.
I gritted my teeth, clutching the contract in my hands. My knuckles whitened. I felt trapped, suffocated, like I was drowning in quicksand.
The phone buzzed again. Another message from Lucien:
"Decide quickly. Time is not your friend."
I stared at it, heart racing. And I knew, somehow, my life would never be the same again.
I sank to my knees on the floor, resting my forehead on the table. Thoughts tumbled over one another—panic, despair, fear, and anger.
A single tear rolled down my cheek.
I can't do this alone…
As I sat there, trembling, the doorbell rang.
I froze. My pulse jumped.
Lucien's deep, calm voice echoed from the hallway:
"Amara, it's time to make your choice."
And in that moment, I realized—whatever I decided next would change everything, forever.