Scars of Betrayal: The Heiress They Tried To Erase

The smell of the house hit Kelsie-lemon polish and emptiness. It was perfectly clean, perfectly ordered, and perfectly cold.

She didn't stop in the kitchen. She walked straight past the island, past the living room, heading for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Judge asked from behind her.

"The guest room," Kelsie said without looking back.

"Kelsie, don't be childish. Come back to our bed."

She ignored him. She ran up the stairs and down the hall to the guest room. She slammed the door and locked it.

It was a futile gesture. It was his house. He had the keys.

Two seconds later, she heard the click of the lock disengaging. The door swung open.

Judge stood there, filling the frame. He looked exhausted, but there was a fire in his eyes now. A dangerous, desperate fire.

Kelsie was on her knees, dragging her old suitcase out from under the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Packing," Kelsie said, throwing the suitcase open. She went to the closet and started grabbing handfuls of clothes-things she had left in there during previous fights. "I'm leaving. I'll walk if I have to."

"You are not walking anywhere." He stepped into the room.

"Watch me." Kelsie tried to shove a sweater into the bag.

Judge kicked the suitcase shut. He grabbed Kelsie's shoulders and spun her around, backing her up until her spine hit the closet door.

"Let me go!" Kelsie screamed, pushing against his chest. "Go find your 'A'! Go save her!"

His eyes darkened. The mention of her name-or the letter-triggered something primal in him. He didn't argue. He didn't explain.

He kissed her.

It wasn't a romantic kiss. It was a collision. His mouth crushed against hers, hard and demanding. It was punishment. It was possession.

Kelsie gasped, trying to pull away, but his hands were in her hair, holding her in place. She bit his lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood.

He didn't stop. He groaned, the sound vibrating against her mouth, and deepened the kiss. His hands slid down her back, gripping her waist, pulling her body flush against his.

For a second-just a terrifying second-Kelsie's body betrayed her. The familiarity of his touch, the heat of him... her knees went weak. She melted into him.

Judge sensed the surrender. He scooped her up, his arms strong and sure, and tossed her onto the guest bed.

He followed her down, his weight pinning her to the mattress. He buried his face in her neck, his breath hot on her skin.

"You are my wife," he growled against her pulse point. "You belong here."

His hand moved under her shirt, his thumb tracing the line of her ribs. It was a distraction. Kelsie knew it. He was using this-using them-to erase the text message. To erase the lie.

"Judge..." Kelsie sobbed, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. She felt humiliated.

He kissed the tears away. His touch softened. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at her. His eyes were intense, searching.

"Let's have a baby, Kelsie," he whispered.

The world stopped.

Kelsie froze. The tears dried on her cheeks.

"What?" she whispered.

"A baby," he said, stroking her hair. "You want one. I want one. Let's do it. Let's start right now."

He moved to kiss her again.

Kelsie's mind reeled. For five years, he had said no. Too busy. Too dangerous. Not the right time.

And now? Now, when she had one foot out the door? Now, when a mysterious woman was texting him that she was in pain?

He wasn't offering her a child out of love. He was offering her a shackle. He was throwing her a bone to keep the dog in the yard.

The realization was like a bucket of ice water. The heat in her body vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity.

He thought he could buy her silence with a pregnancy.

He leaned down, his lips brushing hers.

Kelsie brought her knee up. Hard.

She drove it into his stomach.

Judge grunted, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. He rolled off her, clutching his midsection, coughing.

Kelsie scrambled backward, off the bed, pulling her shirt down.

"No," she said. Her voice was shaking, but not with passion. With rage.