Chapter 1
On our wedding night, Zane Cook threw a check at me. "Just remember, you'll never be good enough to have my child."
I looked down and gently touched my belly, where nine hundred and ninety-nine babies had just started to form.
Nice. Zane had definitely caught my eye.
*****
"Sign it," Zane said, his voice as cold and hollow as the mansion behind him.
He slid a marriage contract and a blank check toward me.
The number of zeros on the check made my head spin.
The core clause was simple: I was to behave myself, not get pregnant, and never try to use a child to bind myself to the Cook family.
"After a year, we'll get divorced, and this check is yours." Zane lounged on the couch with his legs crossed in expensive dress pants, looking every bit the arrogant heir. "Of course, if you want to leave right now, I'll double the amount."
Being a pomegranate fairy was all about multiplying, thriving, and having as many kids as possible. Here he was, a mere human, upping the challenge for me.
I didn't touch the check. Instead, I grabbed the apple next to it and took a big bite.
The crisp crunch rang out in the silent living room.
Zane's brows tightened, like he'd seen something totally uncivilized.
"Can't understand human language?" His tone carried impatience.
I swallowed the apple and shot him a dazzling smile. "Understood. So, I'm never supposed to have your child, right?"
He snorted coldly in confirmation.
A strange warmth suddenly burst from my lower belly, flooding through my entire body in a flash.
This was the ancient pact of the pomegranate fairy tribe.
When a spouse refused offspring with absolute determination, the mother's body activated a defense mechanism: supercharged mode, all for the survival of our kind.
I could "see" it clearly. Inside my still-flat belly, nine hundred and ninety-nine shimmering pomegranate seeds appeared all at once, each one shimmering with a gentle glow.
Each one was a life, ready to be born.
Nice job, Zane. Thanks for making my clan flourish.
I gently touched my still-flat belly, and my smile grew brighter. "Alright, I agree."
Zane seemed satisfied with my compliance and went right back to his cold, controlling self.
He stood up, fussing over cuffs that didn't need smoothing. "Remember your words."
He tossed out those words, then turned and headed upstairs.
I watched his tall, determined back. "Honey."
He paused, didn't turn around, but his whole body radiated resistance. "You'd better not call me that."
"Alright, Mr. Cook." I waved the apple core in my hand. "Where's the trash can?"
He seemed momentarily speechless at my question, then awkwardly pointed to the corner.
I hopped over, tossed the apple core in, and gave a satisfied clap.
Perfect. An epic miracle of life was about to kick off.
And this arrogant human was the one and only sponsor.
I couldn't wait for the day he got the bill.
*****
The next morning, when Zane came downstairs, he almost thought he'd walked into the wrong house.
The long dining table was piled high with enough breakfast to feed at least ten people.
And there I was, sitting at the head of the table, wolfing down my third steak sandwich like a tornado.
"You..." Zane stared at me, then at the mess on the table, his handsome face full of shock and confusion, as if asking, "Are you a pig or something?"
Mandy, the head maid, stood off to the side, looking like she wanted to say something but didn't dare. Her eyes were full of sympathy for me and fear of Zane.
"Morning, Mr. Cook," I mumbled, grabbing another bottle of milk.
Zane's eyes were glued to my belly.
Overnight, my once-flat stomach had puffed up like a balloon, already looking four or five months pregnant.
Shoot, I totally forgot humans were supposed to be pregnant for nine months. And it had only been one night. Was I overdoing it?
I instinctively straightened my back, trying to make my belly look less obvious.
But the more I tried to hide it, the more obvious my belly became.
The air was dead silent.