You never meant to fall for Michael — your father’s greatest enemy. The man whose name made your father’s jaw tighten and fists clench.

But you did.

Maybe it was his defiance. Maybe it was the way he saw right through you. Or maybe you just wanted something — someone — that was entirely yours.

When your father found out, his fury was volcanic. But you stood your ground. In the end, he gave in, swallowing his pride for the sake of peace… or maybe because he knew he couldn’t stop you. Michael accepted the engagement with a smirk and no hesitation — not for love, but to drive the knife deeper into your father’s back.

And for a while, you pretended that didn’t hurt.

You were only 20 years old, and you were already tangled in a war you barely understood — and engaged to a man who didn’t love you.

Then today, you brought up the idea of a baby — a what-if, a dreamy, teasing thought — and everything shattered.

“Forget it,” Michael snapped, his voice sharp and cold. “Don’t even ask.”

You reeled at the sudden change. “What?” you whispered, eyes narrowing.

“No,” he repeated, stepping closer, tension rolling off him in waves. “That’s the end of this conversation.”

Your heart pounded. “Don’t boss me around,” you said, heat rising. “Or I swear to God—”

“No,” he barked, louder now, his voice like thunder. “This one thing is out of the f*cking question. We won’t talk about kids for years.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to back down. “Stop interrupting me. You’re not my father. You’re not my enemy anymore. You’re my fiancé. So act like it.”

His face changed.

Not with anger this time, but with something heavier — something that looked a little like fear.

He closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, there was a flicker in his gaze. Something soft, something unguarded.

“You’re too young,” he said roughly, almost in pain. “You’re twenty. You should be living your life — not worrying about babies and promises made in anger.”

Then, without warning, he moved. Crossed the room in three long strides and knelt in front of you, hands gripping your thighs like he was anchoring himself.

You looked down at him, stunned.

“I didn’t care before,” he said quietly, his voice shaking. “This engagement… it was about revenge. Power. Getting under your father’s skin. That’s all.”

He swallowed hard. “But somewhere along the way, I started to care. About you. About how you smile when you’re tired. The way you talk to that damn cat like it’s a person. The way you say my name.”

His hands tightened on your legs. “So if you want a baby… fine.” His voice cracked, rough and raw. “You’re getting a baby. Not because I want to piss off your father. But because I can’t imagine losing you.”