Chapter 1
“Take off your clothes.” A man emerged from the bathroom, casually wrapping a towel around his waist. Water droplets glistened on his chiseled muscles, slowly trailing down his skin, drawing the eye and refusing to let go. His face was stern yet undeniably handsome, each feature seeming like a masterpiece sculpted by the hand of God. Eleanor Hawthorne glanced at him with indifference, offering no response. A flicker of disdain crossed his eyes. “Are you trying to seduce me with this game?” Eleanor frowned, his words striking a nerve. She met his gaze, her expression serious. “I’m pregnant.” Two months ago, she had married this man before her: William Beaumont—a figure of power and intimidation in Riverfort. In this town, crossing him was a foolish choice; no one dared to defy him. He had taken her as a wife only under the duress of his grandmother, whose wish was for them to start a family quickly. His grandmother was his only family, and for her, he would comply. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have touched her. He loathed her; why would he want to be with her? To him, she was merely a means to an end—a tool for childbirth. Eleanor held his piercing gaze, searching for any hint of a reaction to her news. William’s typically calm demeanor hinted at a slight ripple, but it vanished as swiftly as it appeared. He parted his lips, breaking the silence. “Fine. After you have the baby, you can leave.” Her heart sank at his lack of response. Was that it? Not a single word of concern or joy? “Why should I go? Am I supposed to pave the way for Grace?” Eleanor deliberately provoked him, a hint of defiance flickering in her eyes. Grace was his ideal woman, the epitome of what a Beaumont wife should be—and the very person Eleanor had once trusted most. “Shouldn’t you?” William chuckled contemptuously, his disdain palpable. “Stealing your best friend’s man is quite the twist, isn’t it?” Eleanor turned away, fighting the pain rising within her. She never intended to snatch him from Grace. In truth, she had harbored feelings for William, but kept them locked away deep inside. She had been genuinely happy for Grace and William’s relationship. Yet Grace had gone ahead and shattered the Hawthorne family in the process. Her betrayal had caused turmoil for River Holdings. Now, it was William’s grandmother again urging her to marry him, promising financial aid to help salvage the family business. Why shouldn’t she agree? With Grace’s betrayal, why should she uphold some farcical sisterhood? Eleanor slowly slid off the bed, raising her delicate hand to caress his chest, her voice a sultry whisper. “Of course it’s interesting, especially during… those intimate moments we share…” Disgust flashed across William’s face. He pushed her away with no hesitation. “Shut up!” Eleanor fell back onto the bed, her smile still radiant. “You better be careful. If this baby doesn’t make it, you won’t be fulfilling Grandma’s wish.” Grandma… She wielded the old woman’s favor like a weapon. William shot her a cold glare, preparing to retreat to the guest room when his phone buzzed. Eleanor could faintly hear the voice on the other end. “Mr. Beaumont, it seems Miss Grace’s mental health… is in trouble again.”
Chapter 2
Eleanor Hawthorne felt a wave of nausea wash over her, an unsettling twist in her stomach. She wasn’t sure what sickened her more—Grace Fletcher's manipulative games or her body's rebellious reaction to the stress. Springing from the couch, she made a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it to the sink before the dry heaves set in. It felt like her insides were trying to claw their way out, a physical manifestation of the turmoil brewing within her. Footsteps echoed distantly through the house—William Beaumont was leaving. The man, her husband, had the audacity to ignore her misery, opting instead to drift off to soothe another woman while she struggled to catch her breath in a haze of sickness. Eleanor blinked back tears as she lifted her head to meet her own pale reflection in the mirror. There it was—a sad, twisted smile that barely resembled the woman she once was. “Eleanor, you need to get over this,” she whispered to herself, “Just treat him like he’s irrelevant, and you won’t feel so hurt.” But pretending he didn’t matter was easier said than done. She had met him when she was just fifteen, caught in the riptide of first love. Dressed in a crisp white shirt, he had walked into her life confidently and had never left her heart since then. That innocent crush had festered for nearly a decade, morphing into a complicated web of passion and possession. Now, here she was, the supposedly pitiful woman at the bottom of his disdainful gaze. Life had a cruel sense of humor. The following day, Eleanor decided to confront reality head-on. She drove to Silvercrest Manor, an opulent residence nestled in the suburbs, one of the many properties owned by William. Its understated grandeur was tainted by the knowledge that it was currently harboring Grace Fletcher—the woman with whom William chose to share his warmth while his pregnant wife withered away. For him, keeping Grace close made all the sense in the world. After all, she had allegedly released compromising photos of Grace to the public, triggering a full-blown depressive episode. Facing a woman in the grips of such darkness, who knew what she was capable of? The security guard greeted her with wary eyes. “Mrs. Beaumont, you can’t go in there. The boss said not to let you through.” Eleanor’s temper flared. She didn't care that her family had fallen from grace. The pride she carried was woven into her very being. With a swift motion, she pushed past him, not bothering to respond. “Mrs. Beaumont, please,” he pleaded, nervousness clear in his voice. “I’ll be reporting this to William,” she warned, her glare silencing any dissent. The manor was enormous and stylishly cold, minimalistic décor that reflected William’s personality all too well. She searched the first floor but found no trace of Grace, so she ascended the staircase in her sharp heels, the sound echoing through the empty halls. And then, just as she reached the top, she spotted Grace descending the stairs. “Grace…” The name slipped from Eleanor's lips, laced with disbelief. The other woman wore her customary innocent facade, an act that didn’t go unnoticed. Grace had a knack for theatrics, and Eleanor had been foolish enough to believe her sincerity all these years. “Eleanor, I’m not acting!” Grace's hands grabbed Eleanor's arm, desperation glinting in her eyes. “If it bothers you so much, I’ll just move out!” “Don’t touch me!” Eleanor spat, yanking her arm free. Instantly, Grace’s balance wavered, and with a sickening thud, she tumbled down the staircase, shouting in surprise. “Ahh—” Eleanor’s heart dropped as she turned, meeting the icy, furious gaze of William standing in the living room. The look in his eyes was both fierce and ominous, like a storm brewing under the surface, ready to erupt.
Chapter 3
“Grace Fletcher!” William Beaumont charged toward her without a second thought. Grace lay crumpled on the ground, barely conscious. He scooped her up in his arms, shooting a fiery glare at Eleanor Hawthorne. The look in his eyes was clear: if Grace didn’t pull through, he’d make her pay. But he didn’t say a word. Instead, he dashed out of the villa carrying Grace like she was the only thing that mattered. In moments like these, silence could be more suffocating than words. Eleanor managed a bitter smile that barely reached her eyes. Had she really been that monstrous in his eyes? She hadn’t done anything, yet here she was, condemned without a chance to defend herself. The sudden ring of her phone jolted her from her spiraling thoughts. She glanced at the caller ID. Grandma. She took a breath, forced a cheerful tone, and picked up. “Hey, Grandma! Have you eaten yet?” “Amelia, dear, I’ve been missing you. Could you come over and keep me company?” Grandma's voice was warm and inviting. Eleanor Hawthorne had been thriving as a perfumer at Ravenscroft Holdings. Her blends had received considerable acclaim and were selling well in the market. But everything had come crashing down when Grace Fletcher stole one of her formulas and sold it to a competitor, branding her a plagiarist. All her creations had been pulled from the shelves, and to keep Ravenscroft afloat, she’d walked away from her place in the company. The partners had made it clear: if she stayed, they’d walk. So now, she had all the time in the world. “Of course! I’ve been wanting to see you too! I’ll be right there,” she replied, feeling lighter. As she glanced back at where Grace had fallen down the stairs, Eleanor dismissed the thought. It wasn’t worth her energy. She stepped outside, the chill air hitting her face, and stopped short. Several Petra trees lined the walkway, their vibrant flowers swaying in the breeze. She loved Petra flowers—their meaning was a soft reminder to cherish the present and appreciate happiness. A wave of fondness washed over her; who would have thought she’d find them here? Leaving Silvercrest Manor behind, Eleanor drove toward her grandma’s old place in Shadow Alley. It was a quaint, faded neighborhood where Grandma lived in the first house Grandpa had ever bought, filled with memories the family held dear. After the scandal rocked the Langford family, Grandma had chosen to stay there, despite William’s insistence on moving her into a new home. Fortunately, William had arranged for a small security detail to keep an eye on things, ensuring her comfort and safety. When she arrived, Grandma greeted her with open arms. “Come in, dear! I steamed some crabs for you. Aren’t they your favorite this time of year?” Eleanor stepped into the dining room, her heart warming as she spotted the table laden with crabs. “Oh, Grandma, you’re the best,” she said, wrapping her arms around the sweet, elderly woman. “I knew from the first time I laid eyes on you that you were special. I always thought you’d make a wonderful daughter-in-law,” Grandma said, her eyes shining with pride. “And now, it seems my dreams are coming true.” Eleanor took a deep, steadying breath as she looked sincerely into her grandmother’s eyes. “Thank you for your kindness, but I’m afraid I won’t get to enjoy these crabs.” Grandma’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” “I’m pregnant.” For a moment, Grandma was too shocked to react, her delight frozen in place. “Pregnant? Really?” She burst out, practically vibrating with joy as she bombarded Eleanor with questions. The atmosphere had been light and warm between them, until the afternoon sun dipped and William arrived.
Chapter 4
William Beaumont strode into the room, a storm swirling behind his dark gaze. Eleanor Hawthorne's grandmother noticed his arrival and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, William had already seized Eleanor by the wrist, tugging her toward the side door. “William…” The grandmother’s voice trembled with concern as she watched them disappear. “I need to talk to her!” William threw back over his shoulder, urgency threading through his words. Stepping through the side door led them into the backyard, where he finally released her wrist, his eyes burning with a fierce anger. “Do you have any idea how ruthless you are? Just pushing a living person off the second floor like that?” His jaw tightened with each syllable. Usually calm and collected, William projected a stillness even amidst the chaos of his business empire. But Grace Fletcher had a way of unraveling his composure. “I didn’t do it.” “Didn’t do it?” “That’s right.” Eleanor met his glare, unyielding. “Do you think I’m blind? I saw you shove her!” William's voice dripped with disbelief. “Are you blind? If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be so easily fooled by Grace Fletcher,” Eleanor shot back, her tone as sharp as a knife. “Even now, are you still trying to drag her through the mud?” William’s disdainful gaze swept over her. What a beautiful face she had. People called Eleanor Hawthorne the most stunning woman in Riverhold. But at that moment, her words twisted her beauty into something revolting in his eyes. “Believe what you want,” she snapped, attempting to sidestep him and leave. Yet, William reached out again, grabbing her wrist with a seriousness that sent a chill through her. “You need to apologize.” Eleanor yanked her arm away, brimming with defiance. “Why the hell would I apologize for something I didn’t do?” “Your father’s been scrambling to keep the company afloat, right? Ravenscroft Holdings is just starting to get a foothold. You wouldn’t want to see it topple overnight, would you?” He was threatening her, using her family as leverage. Eleanor felt heat welling in her eyes but fought back the tears, refusing to let him see her break. The sting of being wronged was unbearable, particularly by someone she’d harbored feelings for over the years. “William Beaumont, can’t you trust me just this once?” “Grace Fletcher’s lying in a hospital bed, and she still defends you. Yet here you are, trying to wash your hands of the situation. You and Grace? There’s no comparison!” His voice was a condescending sneer. Eleanor scoffed. “Compare myself to her? Not a chance!” He was done debating. William’s voice turned icy, issuing an ultimatum. “You’re coming with me to the hospital.” In that moment, Eleanor fully understood that his threats were more than just hot air. The man was ruthless—everyone in Riverhold knew it. How else had he managed to build Brightspire Group into the world’s leading luxury brand in just a few years? He had rocketed to the top of every billionaire list, becoming the youngest entrepreneur in all those rankings. In an instant, he exuded an air of invincibility, standing at the pinnacle of success. If he didn’t love her, he certainly wouldn’t be kind to her family. So, with a heavy heart, Eleanor followed him to the hospital. Grace Fletcher looked relatively unharmed, no missing limbs or gaping wounds. Just a few bruises decorating her skin. But she knew how to play the victim, and right now, she was putting on a show for William. “Amelia, I’m fine. You didn’t need to come all this way,” Grace cooed, her voice laced with faux sweetness. Eleanor stood off to the side, expression blank, uninterested in engaging with Grace’s dramatics. “Apologize!” William’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “I brought you here to do that, not to stand like some statue!”
Chapter 5
Eleanor Hawthorne struggled to find the words to apologize, knowing that the situation didn’t warrant it. She had merely shoved Grace Fletcher’s hand away; there was no way that should’ve sent Grace tumbling down the stairs. But William Beaumont wouldn’t believe her. He was too busy nursing his infatuation with his golden girl. “William, don’t put so much pressure on Amelia,” Grace said sweetly, “I’m sure she didn’t mean to push me. It could very well have been my own clumsiness…” Once upon a time, Eleanor would’ve thought that was incredibly kind of Grace. Now, listening to her, she felt a wave of nausea. “She pushed you; she should apologize!” William’s glare pierced through Eleanor like a sharpened blade. “William, could you step outside for a moment? I need to talk to Amelia alone,” Grace said, her tone still gentle. Eleanor instinctively glanced at William. Their eyes met, and she could see how fiercely protective he was, as if he believed she was some sort of predator afraid she’d lunge at Grace again. “Alright, I’ll wait outside. Just call me if you need anything,” he said, his voice softening unexpectedly. Eleanor had to suppress a bitter smile. He could be soft, just not for her. “Thank you,” Grace beamed at William, her smile showcasing a bliss that felt like a kick to Eleanor’s gut. Their exchanges felt less like friends and more like a married couple, with Eleanor left feeling like the unwelcome guest. Once William stepped out into the hallway, Eleanor broke the silence. “Your act is impressive; have you considered a career in theater?” Grace’s eyes sparkled with delight, though her words remained syrupy sweet. “Amelia, you’ve really misunderstood me.” “Misunderstood? You sold my formula and put Brightwood on the brink of disaster. Tell me how that’s a misunderstanding?” Eleanor let out a soft laugh, one that held no joy. “So, you think swooping in and stealing my rightful place in William’s life is justified?” Grace maintained her smile, but it had grown frigid. Eleanor turned her face away, not wanting to let Grace see the crack in her composure. She hadn’t sought any of this; everything felt like it was happening on fate's command. “But I will reclaim what’s mine,” Grace said slowly, her smile fading as she spoke. She had finally secured William Beaumont’s affection after so much manipulation; there was no way she could afford to lose it now. If William ever learned the truth… She had to marry him soon, and ideally, they’d have a child, too. Better to tidy up any loose ends before they could unravel. Eleanor left the room, her heart heavy as she stepped into the hallway where William waited. He looked like a man carved from marble, especially with the soft light streaming in through the windows that enveloped him, making him seem almost regal. She quickly averted her gaze, preparing to walk past him. “Next time, there won’t be a second chance,” he warned, his voice low but firm. Eleanor hesitated, her foot faltering before she straightened up and strutted away in her high heels, her pride on display. That night, William didn’t come home. His “mission” had been accomplished; there was no need for him to return. The next day, Eleanor found herself back at the hospital. The doctor informed her that it was time for an ultrasound. She hadn’t been emotional about the pregnancy before, but as she held the ultrasound print in her hands, her heart melted. The image showed only a tiny speck, but this was a life growing inside her—something so exquisite and profound. This child would be bound to her in a way no one else ever would. She thought about showing the ultrasound picture to William. After all, he was the father; he should share in witnessing the child’s journey. Just as she was lost in thought, she heard footsteps approach the house. There he was—William Beaumont. “Amelia…” As she stood from the couch, she instinctively grabbed the ultrasound print. Before she could speak, he snatched it from her hand, a fierce expression on his face. “Eleanor!”
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