"Sir, Madam is back."
The man upstairs heard the voice and glanced out the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the curvy woman step out of a car and enter the villa.
By the time Madeline Monroe came upstairs, a strong hand gripped her tightly. She turned her head—it was Lucius Whitman.
Lucius rarely liked to talk when they were intimate.
She was trapped in his burning embrace.
Melting under his searing body heat.
A while later, the lingering warmth faded.
Madeline looked at the tangled sheets and the messy aftermath of their frantic encounter before calmly getting out of bed and taking a birth control pill.
The man's deep voice sounded, "Didn't you want a child of your own? It's not like I won't give you one."
Madeline swallowed the pill and replied.
"You seem to have forgotten. Back when your childhood sweetheart kicked my baby away, I told you that if you dared to sign that settlement and forgive her, I would never have your child!"
Madeline's eyes grew red.
Painful memories flooded her mind.
Five years ago, when she married Lucius, she truly believed the rest of her life would be spent happily under this man's protection and love.
She never imagined that when she was seven months pregnant, Liliana Lansbury would show up and ruthlessly kick her in the stomach, causing a miscarriage that cost her the baby.
But the most agonizing part was her own husband, Lucius, demanding that she be magnanimous and forgive the woman.
She would never forget Lucius's detached words, devoid of any clear emotion or empathy.
"Liliana didn't mean it. We can always have another baby, but Liliana absolutely cannot go to jail."
Liliana? He said her name with such affection.


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