Chapter 1

I married Riverside's golden heir, a man everyone said could never have children. By day, we played the part of a couple madly in love. At home, we were just quiet roommates, and our only real contact happened at night.

Because we thought there was zero chance of pregnancy, we never used protection. Then my period ended up more than two weeks late, and the hospital confirmed it: I was pregnant. My whole world caved in.

Had I somehow slept with someone else without knowing it? That night, I packed a suitcase and got ready to run.

Edward Foster blocked my way, eyes dark, and pinned me down on the bed. "Why are you running? You're already mine. How could the child you're carrying belong to anyone else?" I froze.

He lowered his eyes to my stomach. His throat bobbed, and after a long while, he finally spoke in a hoarse voice. "It's just a kid. It's not like I can't afford to raise one."

When I came out of the hospital, it was raining. April in Riverside City still carried a nasty late cold snap. I stood beneath the outpatient awning, the lab slip clenched in my hand, cold wind pouring down my neck, but I barely felt a thing.

The lab slip read: HCG positive. Come back in a week for another check.

Positive. Pregnant. I stared at those words for so long that an older man beside me finally asked, "Miss, are you okay? You look awfully pale."

I shook my head, stuffed the paper into my bag, and walked out into the rain.

It was only when the icy rain hit my face that I slowly came back to myself.

Then the real problem hit me. I had been married to Edward Foster for one year and three months, and we'd never once used protection.

Every time, he'd grip my waist and take me hard, then roll over and fall asleep. Neither of us ever gave the consequences a second thought.

We both thought there was no way a baby could happen, because Edward Foster, my husband, was supposed to be infertile.

Everyone in our circle knew it. Back then, the Fosters had gone from one specialist to another, and the final verdict had been brutal: his sperm motility was practically zero. He would never have children.

That was exactly why I married him. My name is Charlotte Sinclair, daughter of the third son of the Sinclair family. In my family, I was the kind of daughter they could marry off to anyone and call it a fair deal, so the Sinclairs and the Fosters reached an easy agreement.

On the day of our engagement, my mother held my hand, eyes red, and told me my life would be steady if I married into the Foster Family. I knew what she left unsaid: Edward Foster couldn't have children, so being Mrs. Foster would be safe and easy.

I wouldn't have to suffer through childbirth or worry about a husband fooling around outside. I could live quietly as Mrs. Foster, and once Mr. and Mrs. Foster Sr. were gone, the whole Foster Family would be mine.

It sounded perfect.

I thought so too.

So for more than a year, I behaved myself and did everything expected of Mrs. Foster. I accompanied him to social events, wore the right clothes, smiled the right smile, and played the loving wife. At home, though, we were silent roommates who barely greeted each other.

We slept in separate rooms and stayed out of each other's way. He had his study, I had my tea room, and if we ran into each other in the hall, a nod counted as hello.

Our only real connection was in bed. He didn't love me, and I didn't love him, but our bodies fit together ridiculously well. A few times a month, he'd come to my room, and we'd go at it until late, cold and efficient, like strangers taking what they needed.

I didn't know why he needed me; maybe it was physical, or maybe he just couldn't be bothered finding someone else. As for me, it had been too long since anyone held me, and I got attached to that bit of warmth. I kept telling myself nothing could happen, no matter how far we went. Until today.

I stood in the rain, one hand on my still-flat stomach, my mind a complete mess. Pregnant. If Edward Foster really was infertile, then whose baby was this? Had I somehow slept with someone else without even knowing it? I searched my memory and found nothing.

I was always careful with alcohol and had never blacked out once. After every dinner party, the driver took me home, and every time I woke up in my own bed. Unless someone had tampered with my drink... I didn't dare think any further.

My phone vibrated in my bag. It was Edward Foster's private assistant. "Mrs. Foster, Mr. Foster wants to know if you'll be coming home for dinner tonight." My voice came out dry when I answered, "I will." Then I stood in the rain, telling myself not to panic.

I couldn't panic yet.

First, I'd go home and act like nothing had happened. I would figure out the truth later.