It had been three months since Ana arrived at the Fairchild estate—a place that looked every bit like paradise but felt more like a gilded prison. Though she was treated like a rare treasure, her life was tightly monitored. She wasn't allowed to leave the grounds without explicit permission, and the only people she interacted with were her assigned maid, Nina, and the occasional, uncomfortable visits from Sasha.
Ana could barely bring herself to like Sasha. Something about the woman unsettled her, tugging at a primal instinct that whispered: Stay away. Her only solace came from the rare phone calls to her family and her routine walks around the estate, accompanied always by Nina.
Despite the mansion's grandeur, peace eluded Ana. Her mission remained unfulfilled. Sleepless nights tormented her, her thoughts plagued by the pressure of her task and the uncertainty of her future.
It was a bright, sunny afternoon when Ana and Nina strolled past the estate's lavish pool. There, basking in the sun in brightly colored bikinis, were Sasha and her cousin Malia.
Malia raised her sunglasses, squinting. "Who's that?"
Sasha smirked. "That's the woman hired to be a surrogate for my baby. Once she gives birth, Harry will be mine—completely."
Malia chuckled. "You better watch her. With a face like that, lowlifes like her are always greedy—for money, for power... and for men. What if she tries to seduce your man?"
Sasha's expression turned sinister as she narrowed her eyes at Ana. "If she dares go near Harry, I'll tear her to pieces."
Malia burst out laughing.
Meanwhile, across the estate, Ana and Nina reached the artificial lake that shimmered under the sun. On the opposite shore stood a secluded villa Ana hadn't seen before.
"What's that place?" she asked curiously.
"That's the heir's private residence," Nina replied. "He lives there with his sister. No one is allowed in without special permission."
"Doesn't he live in the main house with his wife?"
Nina shook her head. "Their marriage was arranged. There's no affection between them. The young master barely acknowledges his wife."
Back at the main house, Old Madame reclined as Lady Mina gently massaged her legs.
"What should we do now?" Old Madame sighed bitterly. "Am I cursed to always lose in the end?"
Lady Mina looked grave. "The old man is determined to recognize Bruce as his son. If that happens, it'll cause chaos within the company. The shareholders will have too many options."
Old Madame gritted her teeth. "If only that girl had gotten pregnant… half my worries would vanish."
Lady Mina leaned forward slightly. "Then why not take a more direct approach? What if we send the girl to the heir's bed? A natural conception would be faster than continuing the procedures."
Old Madame's brow furrowed. "Do you really think Harry would agree to such a thing? You've seen how he treats his wife. I doubt he'd lower himself to touch a surrogate."
"He doesn't have a choice," Lady Mina said coolly. "All of this is for his own good."
Their discussion continued, treating the matter with cold practicality, as if Ana's consent was irrelevant. Lady Mina and Old Madame shared more than a bond of mistress and servant. They had grown up together—Lady Mina, the daughter of Old Madame's childhood nanny, had been her playmate, confidante, and lifelong companion.
That evening, Ana was summoned. Old Madame received her with a placid expression, as if she were about to deliver news as casual as a dinner menu.
"You will go to my grandson's bed when he returns."
Ana's face turned pale. "What?"
"You signed a contract. It clearly states you must do whatever it takes to provide a child. Failure to do so constitutes a breach, and you'll be liable to return four times the amount we paid."
Ana's heart dropped. The room spun. She remembered how desperate she'd been when she signed those papers, not bothering to read every clause. Now it had come back to haunt her.
She was led back to her room in silence, her eyes brimming with tears. She collapsed onto the bed, curling into herself, sobbing uncontrollably.
Nina sat beside her, pulling her into a comforting embrace.
"Don't cry, Miss. The young master… he's not a bad person," Nina said gently. "He's cold and distant, yes, but he isn't cruel. If you meet him, you might even come to like him."
Ana hugged her pillow tighter. But I don't want to like him. Her heart already belonged to someone else—a tall, kind man who once held her tightly and told her everything would be alright. That memory was her lifeline. Only he can make my heart beat like this. Her tears flowed harder.
In a sleek condominium across the city, Leo lounged with a glass of wine, speaking on a conference call.
"Are you really in such a rush to come back?" he teased. "Strange how love can reduce even a workaholic to a helpless fool. Scary thing, love."
Harry's icy voice cut through the line. "Is everything going according to plan? Don't make any mistakes."
Leo chuckled. "Relax. Everything's under control. Without you holding that beauty in your arms, she won't get pregnant—guaranteed." He has been the one behind the scenes and manipulating every situation concerning Ana. The failure of the artificial insemination was all his doing.
"Good," Harry replied. "I'll be returning in three days."
Leo sobered slightly. "One more thing. Word is, your dear uncle is getting impatient. He's starting to make moves. Be on guard."
Harry ended the call without a word.
Leo sighed. "You cold-hearted bastard… you could at least say goodbye."
They had been friends since junior high. Once upon a time, Harry had been a cheerful, mischievous boy. But after that tragic accident, the one that took his parents—he changed. Burdened with the weight of an empire, he became distant and cold. Leo had sworn to remain the reckless, fun-loving friend Harry no longer allowed himself to be.
Elsewhere in the city, in a dimly lit room, a portly man ruthlessly kicked the crumpled figure of his subordinate.
"Useless fool! Three months and you still haven't found my little kitty!" Mr. Smith roared.
The man on the floor whimpered, shielding himself with trembling arms.
Even though the Lyle family had repaid their debt, Mr. Smith wasn't ready to let Ana go. He still intended to make her his bride. His plan to kidnap her had failed when she vanished without a trace. No matter how much he threatened, her family refused to tell him anything.
His fury only grew.
Back at the mansion, a storm brewed in Sasha's heart.
Inside Old Madame's private study. It was a regal room, lined with books and ancestral portraits—every detail curated to reflect control and lineage.
Sasha stood by the door, her perfectly manicured nails clenching the crocodile leather of her designer handbag. She had been summoned without warning, and although she strutted in with her usual confidence, she sensed that this meeting would be different.
The Old Madame sat behind her ornate desk, her frail-looking frame shrouded in layers of embroidered silk. Lady Mina stood at her side, silent, loyal, and watchful.
"Close the door, Sasha," Old Madame said, her voice calm but laden with authority.
Sasha obeyed. "Is something wrong, Grandmother?"
"Sit." The command left no room for argument.
Sasha perched herself on the edge of the seat, crossing her legs with practiced elegance. She expected a scolding. What she didn't expect was what came next.
"I've made a decision," Old Madame began slowly. "The surrogate girl—Ana. She will no longer be subjected to scientific procedures. We will proceed in the natural way."
Sasha blinked, confusion mingling with an ominous sense of dread. "What… do you mean natural?"
"I mean," Old Madame said, leaning forward, "Harry will bed her."
The words hit Sasha like a slap. "What?!"
"You heard me clearly," the old woman replied, her eyes narrowing. "It's been three years, and she's still not with child. We cannot afford to wait any longer."
"You want my husband to sleep with that—that girl?" Sasha spat, shooting up from her seat. "Are you out of your mind?"
Lady Mina flinched slightly at the tone, but Old Madame remained unfazed.
"You forget your place, child," she said coldly. "This family needs an heir. A Fairchild heir. And clearly, you've failed to do your part."
Sasha's face flushed with fury and humiliation. "I'm not the problem! I've done every test, every consultation—there is nothing wrong with me! I..."
"And yet," Old Madame interrupted, voice rising with a rare sharpness, "here you are, three years into this marriage, still barren! If you're not the problem, then what is? A curse? Misfortune?"
Sasha's lips quivered. "Harry… Harry has never touched me."
There it was. The truth she had buried under layers of silence and pride. The secret she'd carried like a noose around her neck. The cold reality that, from the very first night of their arranged marriage, Harry had treated her like a stranger. Like a business partner. Like a placeholder.
Not a wife.
Old Madame tilted her head slightly, studying her. "Ah," she said quietly. "So it's come to that."
"I've tried," Sasha whispered, voice shaking. "I've tried so hard. But he looks through me. Like I'm nothing."
"Then perhaps you are nothing to him," Old Madame said coldly.
Sasha stumbled backward, stunned. "How can you say that?"
"I say it because this is a family that survives through strength and blood. You were chosen because your family had power, because I believed you could tame Harry's coldness. But you have failed. All you've done is parade around like a queen without a crown."
"You're letting her take my place?"
"I'm letting her give us what you cannot. If you were woman enough to keep your husband's attention, we wouldn't be here."
Sasha's face crumpled, rage and despair battling inside her. "He's my husband! I won't let another woman touch him!"
Old Madame rose slowly, each movement measured and imperial. "Then do your job, Sasha. Make him want you. Or step aside for someone who can."
Sasha turned and stormed out, heels clicking furiously against the floor, her chest heaving with humiliation. But even as the door slammed shut behind her, she knew no matter how tightly she clenched her fists, no matter how hard she fought, there were things slipping from her grasp.
And the greatest threat to her throne wasn't an outsider. It was the ghost of a marriage that had never truly begun.
Inside her room, Sasha's reaction was swift and violent. Rage took over as she hurled a crystal vase across the room, shattering it against the wall.
Infertile?.
How pathetic is that. That nonsense was cooked up by Harry himself to get Old madame off his back and escape consummating their relationship.
Everything is a lie.
However she won't give up.
Harry belongs to her only. Any woman who dares to come between them will die.
"No one touches what's mine!" she screamed.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, her hands trembling. The thought of another woman lying with Harry of bearing his child was unbearable. If Ana was allowed near him, there was no telling what Sasha might do.
And in that moment, the mask of the refined socialite slipped, revealing the dangerous woman beneath.