I Married Him To Save Our Sick Son

Forrest finally realized he'd lost his composure today. Normally, he was careful to keep his strength and actions within Gianna's comfort zone, mindful of how young she was. But maybe it was the few drinks, a little buzz that made him slip. His brows drew together as he got out of bed and headed for the shower.

I lay sprawled across the huge bed, utterly drained and sore, and feeling completely wronged. If Sam weren't so sick, I'd have walked out of this house right then.

Forrest came back from his shower soon after, looking like he was about to head out. He stood with his back to me, getting dressed.

I couldn't help but let my eyes wander over his silhouette. Over six feet tall, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, his back carved with lean muscle. The line of his spine disappeared into the low waistband of his pants. Damn! He was breathtaking in a way I just couldn't ignore.

I was so caught up staring that when Forrest suddenly turned and faced me, my eyes went wide. He'd caught me, dead to rights.

I whipped my gaze away, my face flaming with embarrassment. What a mortifying moment!

His deep, cool voice cut through the air. "You can take Sam out to play after school tomorrow, but he can't stay here overnight. And he can't call you 'Mom.'"

"Really?" I shot up, excitement buzzing through me. As long as I could be near Sam, I didn't care whether he called me Mom or not.

Jealousy gnawed at me during the sleepless nights, leaving me tired and restless, yet still unable to drift off.

I lay there alone in that big bed, wondering why I'd put myself through this humiliation, trading my pride just to be part of the Murphy household...

Not far from this small town lay another country—a place with breathtaking scenery, cheap labor, sweet fruit, and gorgeous but deadly flowers.

I grew up here, so I knew the languages and routes like the back of my hand—French, Italian, English—but I hated this beautiful, sinister place with a passion, always aching to escape.

That day was a game-changer for me. I got my college acceptance letter. In just over a month, I'd be out of here, off to study in my homeland's city.

Clutching the letter, I rushed to find my best friend, Izaiah Hansen. He'd promised me an awesome gift once I got into college.

Caught up in my excitement, I kind of lost my head that day. I took a quiet path to get to the border faster, eager to meet Izaiah.

Izaiah had walked me down this path more times than I could count, but this was my first time alone. Just as I got close to his place, I heard the sound of heavy, chaotic footsteps.

Men... and more than a few of them!

Running into men in a place like this usually spelled trouble. Eight out of ten were straight-up ruthless and wicked.

I whipped around to bolt into the nearby woods, but they'd already rounded the bend and spotted me.

These guys were tall, their faces oozing menace, moving with deadly speed—definitely not your average lowlifes.

"Whoa, check it out, a little beauty!" one of them leered, his eyes glinting with pure malice.

"Haha, looks like we got some unexpected bonuses today!" another sneered, cracking his knuckles with a sickening sound.

I felt utterly humiliated and cornered, about to be overpowered, when someone suddenly swept in front of me. A blood-curdling scream tore through the air as I was jerked free from the man's grip.

These men were trained bandits. Without a second's hesitation, they lunged at the one who'd come to my rescue.

But this guy was freakishly fast and ferocious. Every move seemed powered by thunder, each strike aimed at a vital point. In just moments, two were down.

Still shaking from shock, I hid and stole a glance at my rescuer.

His eyes were fierce, lips pressed into a thin line, and the golden sunset light sharpened his angular, cold features. He looked like something straight out of a legend, radiating a terrifying aura.

It was Forrest Murphy.

The man who'd grabbed me staggered to his feet, spitting blood in fury. "Guys, bring out the blades; we got a tough one here. He cracked my ribs with one kick!"

The others realized the figure before them was no ordinary man. They pulled knives from their boots, coordinating a storm of fists and blades straight at Forrest.

I stood there, heart in my throat, silently sweating bullets for him.

---

Renata Jordan heard how effortlessly Izaiah had captured Samba, and even lying weak in her hospital bed, she managed a proud smile. "As long as my son sets his mind to something, he'll handle it brilliantly."

Listening to Renata recount Izaiah's methods, even Quinn felt a chill snake down his spine. He'd always known Izaiah was ruthless, but hadn't expected such brutality.

Yet what Quinn saw as cold-blooded violence, Renata and her father viewed as praiseworthy skill—something to be proud of and admired.

Quinn mulled it over. It seemed he and Izaiah came from two completely different worlds. Fitting into Izaiah's life wouldn't be easy.

Renata was overjoyed and proud, just like any ordinary mom, hearing the Murphys praise her son.

"My Izaiah is brilliant in every way. The only thing that worries me is his marriage," Renata sighed wistfully.

The others in the room perked up, listening intently. They knew Izaiah's marriage was something that affected them all.

"I'm happy with my life, but I regret that Izaiah hasn't married or had a child. It's the only thing bugging me," Renata went on, her gaze casually sweeping the room.

Murphy, shrewd and seasoned, lowered his eyes, smart enough not to meet Renata's direct stare. His daughter, though, was young and had her guard down. She bit her lip nervously, glancing at Renata.

Renata read every one of the daughter's little tells. That nervous fidgeting was a dead giveaway—she was hiding something.

A thrill ran through Renata. She was satisfied, knowing she'd soon learn about the child and make sure her grandchild was acknowledged.

Quinn felt his spirits sink at the mention of Izaiah having kids. As much as he was head over heels for Izaiah, he could never give him a child.

At that thought, a heavy wave of defeat washed over him. His face darkened, and he got lost in his own head.

Neither Renata nor Murphy noticed Quinn's silence. To them, the matter of Izaiah having children had zilch to do with Quinn.

Murphy felt his daughter's anxiety and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, smiling at Renata. "Renata, don't stress too much about it. The young ones have their own plans and their own luck."

"Ah, Murphy, we've known each other for years. You know Izaiah's nature; if he decides never to marry or have kids, he'll stick to it. When I pass, he'll be alone, without a child or close family. It would be so lonely, and the thought just breaks my heart. What's the point of all this wealth if he's got no one to share it with, no heir? Even in death, I'd find no peace."

Murphy frowned slightly. He sensed Renata's words carried weight—this wasn't just casual chat or wistful thinking. Why bring up Izaiah and children so suddenly?

Murphy's daughter wasn't as sharp as her father. Hearing Renata's mournful tone, she couldn't help but jump in. "Renata, Izaiah won't be alone. He'll have someone to care for him."

Murphy squeezed her hand harder, quickly shushing her.

Renata had brought this up on purpose, to gauge the Murphys' reaction. Seeing the daughter slip up, Renata wasn't about to let it slide.

Raising an eyebrow at the daughter, Renata asked, "How can you be so sure Izaiah won't be alone, or that he'll have someone? Have you already made some kind of arrangement?"

"I... I haven't..." The daughter's face turned bright crimson, stammering. "I just meant Izaiah has a ton of friends. When he's older, they'll support each other and look out for him."

Renata laughed softly, easing the tension in the room. "My dear, friends are no replacement for your own child. Think about it—who loves and cares for your father most? It's you, of course. No one else can compare to a child's love."

Quinn silently disagreed. He believed he could be way better for Izaiah than any child. He could give him medical care, cook him delicious meals, and teach him a healthy lifestyle so Izaiah would have a happy, healthy old age.

Renata, a master at reading people and situations, kept up her act, channeling a mother's deepest despair and longing with absolute perfection. Everyone who watched her was moved.

The daughter had never seen Renata like this. Her heart ached for this once invincible, queenly figure now looking so vulnerable.

Pressing her lips together, the daughter desperately wanted to tell Renata about Izaiah's child, to ease her distress.

Murphy, well aware of his daughter's soft heart, silently stopped her from blurting anything out.

"Renata, don't worry too much about this. The future has its own pace, and past regrets shouldn't cloud your view. You know this well. Izaiah is still young, with so much ahead of him. He'll find the right partner and have kids."

Renata had planted the seeds of suspicion and insight. She knew Murphy would get the message and would be forced to act.

She needed the Murphys to realize she was aware of the child and that she'd make damn sure the child was acknowledged.

Murphy felt uneasy about Renata's words. He knew she'd stop at nothing to get what she wanted. It looked like the clock was ticking for his son.

But Renata hadn't crossed the line yet. He wouldn't spill anything. Even though it was inevitable, he still wished for a little more time.

---

Izaiah dealt with Samba in his city and officially allied with General Jordan, pouring a ton of resources into him.

"Mr. Hansen, forming this alliance is an honor. You're the one who captured Samba, so these resources are yours," General Jordan said, still wary of Izaiah's power and ferocity.

An alliance with someone as fierce as Izaiah meant security against future threats. Jordan was grateful and didn't feel right taking Izaiah's spoils.

"My allies deserve to share in the rewards. Everything that's rightfully yours, you'll get," Izaiah shot back, bold as ever.

And Izaiah didn't just talk the talk—he walked the walk, sending dozens of trucks loaded with resources straight into Jordan's territory.