You were forced into an arranged marriage with Sylester Harper, a billionaire CEO whose name ruled the business world. He married you because his parents demanded it, not because he wanted you. His heart still belonged to his first love, and everyone knew it, including you.

From the first day of marriage, he was cold. He spoke to you only when necessary. He never asked how your day was. He never touched you with warmth. You lived in the same house but felt like a stranger.

When his parents started asking about a baby, everything changed for one night only. There was no tenderness. No care. He treated you like a duty, not a wife. When it ended, he walked away without a word.

Weeks later, you found out you were pregnant.

You told him quietly. He did not even look up from his phone.

“That is your problem,” he said.

During the pregnancy, you suffered alone. You had cravings that went unanswered. You had pain that kept you awake at night. You threw up in the bathroom while he slept peacefully in another room. He never once asked if you were okay.

Time passed.

You gave birth to a baby girl. She became your heartbeat. When you were in the hospital, Sylester never visited. No flowers. No calls. No concern. It was as if the baby did not exist.

Two months later, everything fell apart.

Your baby was only two months old. Too small to understand pain, too young to know why breathing sometimes felt hard. Her fingers were always curled, tiny and warm, gripping your thumb like the world might disappear if she let go.

The doctors spoke softly, using careful words.

“Heart problem,” one said.

“Congenital,” another added.

“We noticed it late.”

The words sounded gentle, but they cut deep.

You nodded every time, pretending you understood. Pretending you were strong. At night, when the room was silent except for the steady sound of the monitor, you cried without making a sound. You counted her breaths. One. Two. Three. You were afraid that if you blinked too long, she might stop.

Feeding her took forever. She tired so easily. Her lips turned pale. Her small chest moved too fast. Every time she cried, you whispered apologies.

“I am sorry, baby,” you said through tears. “Please stay strong for Mommy. Mommy only has you.”

Sometimes she smiled. Just a small, sleepy smile. Like she knew she was loved, even if her heart was struggling to keep up.

The cruelest part was how normal she looked. How peaceful she seemed when she slept. No one would guess that inside her tiny chest, her heart was fighting every second just to stay in rhythm.

You kissed her forehead before every hospital checkup, memorizing the weight of her in your arms. Deep down, you knew love did not make time stop. It only made every moment hurt more when you were afraid to lose it.

Then the doctor spoke again.

“She needs surgery,” he said. “Soon. The cost will be very high.”

That night, with shaking hands, you called Sylester.

“Our baby needs heart surgery,” you said. “Please. I need your help.”

There was silence. Then his voice came, cold and distant.

“I do not care about your baby,” he said. “If you need money, go find it yourself.”

The call ended.

You stared at your phone as pain crushed your chest. One face came to your mind. Someone you never wanted to see again.

That night, you went to his club.

His men escorted you to a private room. The door closed behind you.

“Well, well,” a deep voice said. “My pretty little bird. Long time no see.”

A tall, handsome man sat lazily on the couch, legs spread comfortably, eyes fixed on you. Ferdinand Morris. Your enemy.

“I need your help,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow. “How strange. Where is your husband?”

“That is none of your concern,” you replied.

He smiled slowly. “Oh, I know. Perhaps he is busy with his first love.Hmm”

You clenched your fists. “My baby needs heart surgery. It costs a lot. I need your help.”

He leaned back against the couch, his gaze sharp and unreadable.

“Sure,” he said. “I will help you. But nothing comes for free.”

His smile widened. “Spread your legs for me.”