The Wife You Never Wanted

The next morning, Lucia's phone buzzed nonstop.

Half-asleep, she grabbed it—dozens of voice messages from Jared's mom.

She tapped one without thinking, and the woman's anxious voice blasted through the room.

"Lucia, another month gone. Still no baby news?

"I'm serious—you and Jared need to try harder. Even if it's exhausting at night, you must have a baby this year..."

Lucia scrambled to mute it.

Too late.

She looked up—and Jared was already walking out of the bathroom.

Jared froze mid-button, lips curling into a cold laugh.

"Wow, Lucia. Using my mom to drop hints first thing in the morning? That desperate, huh?"

She went pale. "I didn't—"

Before she could finish, he grabbed her chin, rough and sharp. His thumb and middle finger pinched her jaw while his index finger skimmed the curve of her throat.

"You didn't?" he sneered. "Then why are you still wearing THIS?"

Lucia stiffened. She glanced down—still in last night's black lace nightgown.

The sheer fabric clung to her skin like glass on porcelain.

From where he stood, the lace barely covered a thing.

His throat bobbed.

'Especially those breasts—Jared, how do you resist squeezing them?'

The crude message from his group chat flashed in his mind, and his eyes darkened.

He shoved her back and looked away, jaw clenched.

"Too bad it won't go your way. The baby's already handled. Get dressed—we're going out."

And just like that, he walked off, leaving her stunned.

'Handled? The baby?'

Thirty minutes later, the black Maybach rolled to a stop.

Lucia glanced out the window—and froze.

"Why did you bring me to a hospital?"