Chapter 1

In the fifth year of her marriage, Claire Monroe had already been mistaken countless times for a victim of domestic abuse.

The doctor spoke in a brisk, professional tone, but her eyes lingered on Claire's wrist. "Ma'am, did you do this to yourself, or did someone hurt you?"

A line of scars ran along the pale underside of Claire's forearm, like rungs on a ladder. Some had faded to a dull silver, while others were still pink and fresh beneath a square of clean gauze.

Claire raised her eyes.

The doctor rested a hand lightly on the back of the exam chair. "You don't have to be afraid. I can call someone for you. The hospital has a private protocol. No one else would find out."

Claire lowered her gaze, and a faint smile touched the corner of her lips. "That won't be necessary."

The doctor blinked, unsure how to respond.

Claire pulled the cuff of her blouse down to cover the bandage, smoothing the fabric with her fingers. "I have to draw blood every month.

"It's for a regular lab panel. The medication I take is very expensive, so I've gotten used to doing it at home."

The doctor opened her mouth, then closed it again without saying anything.

Claire met her eyes and gave a gentle shake of her head. "There's really no one you need to call."

She stood up, folded the lab slip in half, then again, and tucked it neatly into her purse.

"My husband treats me very well." The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she hesitated for a brief moment.

Then she smiled again. This time, it reached her eyes more easily. This time, it almost felt real.

"Your body is at its limit," the doctor said, her brows drawn tight as she pointed at a row of red indicators on the test results.

"You've been losing blood for a long time. You're severely anemic, and your uterus is barely getting enough blood. Even though you're pregnant, the chances of carrying to term are extremely low."

Claire sat quietly in the exam room, one hand resting gently over her stomach.

"And," the doctor added after a brief pause, "if this continues, it could significantly shorten your life."

She did not respond. The door closed softly behind her.

Claire held the pregnancy test results tightly in her hand.

She stared at them for the entire afternoon. At first, she could not believe what she was seeing. Then her eyes filled with emotion. In the end, she carefully folded the paper and pressed it close to her chest.

She was going to have Joshua Warren's baby.

*****

When she got back to the villa, Joshua was already waiting for her in the master bedroom.

"You're back," he said as he set his book aside and smiled at her.

Soft light fell across his face, and his eyes were warm and gentle.

Claire felt her heart begin to race.

"Joshua," she said as she sat on the edge of the bed, her voice tight. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Sure," Joshua replied, handing her a glass of milk. "Have some milk first. You've been looking pale lately."

Claire's thoughts were fixed on the pregnancy results. She tried to think of a way to tell him that would surprise him.

Joshua leaned closer, concern in his voice. "Are you feeling alright?"

"No," she said, setting the mug back on the nightstand. "I..."

"Mr. Warren," the butler called from outside the door. "Mr. Hayes is here. He's waiting in the study."

Joshua frowned slightly. He stood and gently patted her head. "I'll be right back. Don't forget to drink your milk. You have a blood test tomorrow."

He walked out of the room. Claire sat alone on the edge of the bed, her fingers unconsciously rubbing her belly.

Time passed as she sat there, thinking about how to share the good news with her husband. At last, she made up her mind. She would tell him right away.

The study door was slightly open. As Claire approached quietly, she heard her own name.

"Claire's a bit off today," Joshua said, his voice low and steady.

Claire stopped in her tracks.

"She said she's not feeling well and wants to skip some of the blood tests tomorrow," he continued. A faint trace of amusement slipped into his tone. "She's probably just being playful."

"The antibody maturity has reached ninety-seven percent," Richard Hayes said. "At most, two more times, and Yasmin will recover."

Joshua gave no response.

After a short pause, Richard laughed softly. "You've really stuck it out this year. It must have been exhausting, keeping up the act in front of her every day."

Claire's hand froze in midair.

"It's nothing," Joshua said in a flat voice. "She's only a stand-in."

The words were quiet, but they struck Claire with crushing force.

"Looking at her face, which somewhat resembles Yasmin's," Joshua continued after a pause, a hint of self-mockery in his voice, "sometimes it feels like I'm actually in the role."

Richard let out a low whistle. "You spent night after night with her. I'm starting to think maybe you're not only acting anymore."