Chapter 1
I was five months pregnant, sitting in the exam room for a checkup, when the doctor looked me dead in the eye. "So, you've been seeing another man?" he said.
I froze for a second, then my temper flared. I replied, "Instead of making up rumors, why don't you just do your job as a doctor?"
He stared at me for a long moment, took off his glasses, and met my gaze with intense eyes. Then he stood up and walked over to me. He said, "Jane, I'm Samuel Grant."
He drew out his name slowly, as if to make sure I caught them.
Samuel Grant, oh no.
He was my estranged husband, the one I married in a whirlwind and barely lived with before we ended up apart.
He seemed to enjoy the look of shock and guilt on my face, raising an eyebrow with a hint of amusement, like he was waiting for a satisfying explanation.
*****
Five months ago, just to get my nagging mom off my back about marriage, I agreed to go on a blind date.
According to my mom, the guy was her best friend's son. He was a doctor, a bit of a neat freak, no bad habits, and his life was pretty much just work and home.
She swore up and down that he was one in a million and that I absolutely had to bring him home.
So when I met him, I got straight to it, saying, "I'm Jane Brooks, 27, never dated, healthy, no bad habits. I'm a talent agent, constantly traveling, hardly home. If you're okay with that, we can marry today, and you can move in with me."
"Samuel," he said before I cut him off.
"I already know about you. My mom told me everything," I said, glancing at my phone that wouldn't stop buzzing. "I'm heading out with my client to a film set tomorrow, so I'll be away for a while."
There was a moment of silence before he replied, "Sure."
Oh, and I was super nearsighted, like, I couldn't see a thing without my glasses. Of course, I forgot them today, so I had to grab a cab to get here.
What really caught me off guard was that this doctor actually had all the paperwork for marriage on him.
The civil affairs office wasn't crowded; we got our marriage certificate quickly. Outside, I asked for his WhatsApp and handed him a key. I said, "Number 7, Cloudview Mansion. If you're unsure, I'll share the location with you."
Samuel glanced at the key in my hand, his face impossible to read. After a moment, he replied quietly, "I know."
As for how I ended up pregnant? My rookie artist and the rest of my crew insisted on throwing a party to celebrate me finally getting hitched, and they got me totally wasted.
I vaguely remembered Samuel coming to pick me up, while my little troublemakers were raising a ruckus all around me, making my head pound.
By the time I finally woke, it was almost nine. Thankfully, my flight wasn't until ten-thirty. I shot a message to my assistant and tried to get up for some food, but the moment I got out of bed, my legs almost collapsed beneath me.
Guys in their thirties really were unstoppable.
I noticed a note on the nightstand, the handwriting so elegant it looked like it could dance off the page. It read: [Breakfast's in the microwave. Don't forget to eat. Text me when you wake up. Have a safe flight.]
Right at nine, my phone buzzed.
S: [Not awake yet?]
Honestly, who else could I blame?
I texted back: [I'm up.]
S: [Good. Make sure to warm up your breakfast before you eat.]
Breakfast was buns and egg soup; surprisingly, it was just what I needed. But I was running late, so I wolfed it down, grabbed my stuff, and headed out.
As soon as I got in the car, my assistant and my troublemaker of an artist both gave me a teasing sound.
I shot them a look and said, "We're married now. Totally legit."
The artist I managed was Julian Carter, a true rich kid. Six feet tall, gorgeous, talented actor, always polite to fans. But the moment he debuted, he openly declared his relationship status; nothing could hold him back.
After he went public, nothing bad happened at all. His career was on fire, and the company just let him run wild. Meanwhile, I got shipped off to babysit this headache.
Oh, and his dad? He was the company's VIP pain-in-the-neck investor.
The lucky girl Julian went public with is my assistant, Flora Shelton. She was only 19, but she was so sweet and well-behaved.
As soon as I finished talking, Julian's bright smile froze. He gritted his teeth and said, "Jane, don't corrupt the minors."
"Flora's turning 20 next month. She's old enough to get married. Minors are under 18, you know," I said.
Julian was left speechless, but Flora couldn't help but laugh.
When we stepped out, a dozen fans waited by the curb. They saw Flora dragging a suitcase almost her height, and the head fan shouted, "Mr. Six, can't you see? How could you let Sweetie handle all that alone?"
Sweetie was the fans' nickname for Flora, while Mr. Six was Julian's spot in the nine heirs of Kingsford.
Julian paused, turned around, and took the suitcase from Flora, tossing a look at the fans as he said, "You guys never let up, do you?"
Once we got to the hotel, my phone buzzed with a message.
S: [Made it?]
Was this guy tracking my every move or what?
I glanced at the message and set my phone down without replying.
It wasn't until I was about to go to bed that I finally texted back: [Got here. Busy.]