Chapter 2
Andrew sent his men to take me away.
They were "polite." Two guys, one on each side, practically shoving me into the car.
They kept me prisoner in a luxury apartment. The windows were sealed tight. Guards stood at the door around the clock.
Andrew never showed up again.
Every day, someone brought meals right on schedule, but I couldn't bring myself to eat a single bite.
I curled up on the couch, my knees pulled to my chest, and I felt it—that tiny, fragile life growing inside me. Barely there, but it was there.
This was my baby, the only family I had left.
I couldn't lose him. Not now.
I stopped eating.
I thought if I did this, Andrew would finally show up. Maybe he'd at least want to see me.
But I was wrong.
On the third day, hunger had left me dizzy and lightheaded. The door swung open.
It wasn't Andrew. Instead, a group of doctors and nurses in white coats walked in.
They moved toward me, their faces blank.
"What are you doing?" I cried out.
I shrank back in fear.
"Ms. Carter, Mr. Grant's orders. For your own health, we need to give you a nutritional IV," one of them said.
The icy needle bit into my skin.
No matter how hard I fought or screamed, it didn't matter.
The fluid crept into my veins, draining away what little hope I had left.
Lying on the bed, I felt like a soulless puppet, empty and hollow.
They took my phone. I was cut off from the world.
I lost track of time. Maybe a week. Maybe ten days.
Then one day, I found a tablet. One of the nannies who brought my meals had carelessly left it in the living room. When I picked it up, an entertainment headline was on the screen.
It read: [Grant Family Heir Andrew Spotted in Rosenberg With Mysterious Girlfriend—Wedding Bells?]
The photo showed Andrew with his arm around a girl, her smile dazzling, as they posed together against a backdrop of snow-capped peaks.
The girl was Freya Archer. His childhood sweetheart. The one he'd always loved. She had just come back from abroad.
So all this time, he wasn't busy. He was just with someone else.
At that moment, my heart shattered completely.
The next day, I was taken to the hospital.
I lay on the operating table. It was cold. The lights above were so harsh that I couldn't keep my eyes open.
I stopped struggling.
The anesthesia seeped into my veins, and everything started to blur as my consciousness faded.
It felt like I was slipping into a dream.
In that dream, a tiny baby reached out for me, crying, calling me "Mommy."
I tried desperately to pull him into my arms, but no matter how hard I reached, I just couldn't hold him.
"Mommy, why did you leave me?" The baby's voice echoed in my dream.
A hot tear slipped down my cheek.
I'm so sorry, baby.
It's my fault. I couldn't keep you safe.
*****
When I finally got off the operating table, my body felt empty, and so did my heart.
Andrew sent someone over with a new check. The amount was ten times bigger than before.
Thirty million dollars.
He was buying my baby and buying me out of his life for good.
I took it.
The day I left the hospital, I put on my most expensive dress. I did my makeup perfectly. Then I went to the most exclusive club in the city.
I was looking for someone.
Lucas Shaw.
The heir to the Shaw family and Andrew's arch nemesis.
Word was, after a car accident three years ago, Lucas couldn't walk anymore. They said he had turned dark and volatile.
I found him in the VIP room.
He sat in his wheelchair, his back to the door. Neon lights from outside spilled over him, making him look even more alone.
I pushed the door open.
He spun his wheelchair around and looked at me.
His face was handsome yet ghostly pale, and his eyes were deep and empty, like a pool with nothing left inside.
"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse.
"Tiffany Carter," I replied.
I walked up to him and placed a USB drive on the table in front of him.
"Inside are all the secrets and scandals the Grant family has been hiding for years. Enough to destroy him completely," I said.
Lucas's eyes finally showed a flicker of interest.
He picked up the USB drive, but didn't look at it.
His gaze lingered on my face, sizing me up.
"What's your price?" he asked.
"Marry me," I said.
Even as I said it, I knew how crazy it sounded.
A woman who'd just lost her baby, a scandal-ridden actress, asking to marry a wheelchair-bound heir from a prominent, wealthy family.
Lucas let out a laugh, pure sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Ms. Carter, what makes you think I'd marry Andrew's leftover?" he sneered.
"Because I can help you bring down the Grant family. Because I know all his weaknesses," I replied.
I sounded so calm, it barely felt like me.
"All I want is the name. Mrs. Shaw. Just the name. It keeps them from pushing you into all those arranged marriages you hate. We both get what we want. No interference in each other's lives," I said.
Lucas fell silent.
His long fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of his wheelchair, each tap echoing in my chest.
After a long pause, he finally spoke, "Alright."
I let out a breath. All the tension in my body just collapsed at once.
"But I have one more condition," Lucas said.
He fixed his piercing gaze on me.
"I want you. All of you. From now on, you're all mine," he said.
I froze.
Looking into those deep eyes, I suddenly realized this guy was way scarier than the rumors said.
But I had no way out.
"Deal," I said.