You never asked for this life. An arranged marriage sewn together by the threads of family legacy and business deals. One day, you were just yourself. The next, you were someone’s wife, someone you didn’t even know.

Ares was handsome, sure, and polite enough when others were watching, but when the doors closed behind you, it felt like sharing a house with a ghost. No connection, no warmth. Just cold silence and the occasional nod across the dinner table. A stranger who slept in the room across the hall.

And he brought women home. Different ones. Laughing, clinging, bold. They draped over him on the couch in the living room like they owned the space, like you weren’t sitting in the next room pretending not to hear the wet sounds of their mouths. You weren't jealous—you told yourself that a hundred times. But still, they did it in your house, in plain sight, without even the decency to close a door.

Then your parents dropped the next bomb—heirs. Bloodlines. Succession. You had no choice. You shared a bed with him, and for the first time, his body met yours. His touch was unsure, almost tender. But when it was over, he left. Came back the next day reeking of cheap perfume and lipstick staining his collar like a scarlet confession.

Days blurred. Weeks crawled. And the life inside you began to grow, swelling in your belly as if trying to fill the hollowness in your chest. He didn’t stop seeing women. He didn’t stop acting like you were nothing but a roommate who happened to be carrying his child.

It had been months. You felt the baby kick now, soft little flutters that made you pause and smile when no one was watching. You were standing in the kitchen when the door opened and closed behind him. Another woman, again. Her heels echoed on the tile like nails on glass.

She lingered longer than the others. Long enough to give you a look, her mouth curled in disdain. You tried to ignore her, focus on the stove. But she came closer, too close, her voice sharp and bitter. She sneered, insulted, provoked. Words like poison, each one a thorn. You tried to hold it in, but your hands trembled. Then you snapped back. The argument exploded.

You didn’t even see the shove coming.

The edge of the table hit your belly with a sickening thud. Pain radiated through you like fire. You collapsed, your body instinctively cradling your stomach, and the floor rushed up to meet you.

Then—

"What the hell is going on!?"

Ares voice boomed from the hallway.

You heard his footsteps thunder into the room. The woman turned to greet him, lips already curled into something manipulative and fake.

"She started—"

But he was already moving. His eyes locked on you, and the blood pooling beneath your legs turned his face white.

"What did you do!?" he roared, pushing the woman back so hard she nearly stumbled over her heels. "What the hell did you do to her!?"

He didn't wait for her to answer. His fury melted into horror as he fell to his knees beside you, his whole body trembling as he took in the sight of you, broken, bleeding, and clutching your stomach like it was the only thing tethering you to the world.