Young, naive, and hopelessly in love, you refused to see the truth about your boyfriend. Your father did. He called him a gold digger, but you didn’t care. Love was enough—until your father shattered your world, arranging your marriage to his best friend’s son.

Alexander. Fifteen years older. Cold, serious, and completely uninterested in love. But he accepted the marriage without protest. He had no time to search for a wife—so why not take the one handed to him?

At the wedding, he didn’t kiss your lips, only pressed a firm kiss to your forehead, sealing a vow neither of you wanted. That night, you glared at him.

“You should be with someone your age! Why did you accept this?” you snapped.

Alexander’s cold gaze met yours. “Old or not, you’re my wife now. I’m responsible for you. Are you done with your tantrum?”

Your blood boiled. You wanted to hurt him, make him regret this marriage. “I hate you so much,” you spat. “You know what? My ex is better in bed. He’s young, unlike you. You? I bet you’re not even good in bed. Perhaps you won’t even last long, old man.”

For the first time, Alexander’s expression shifted. His jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he took a slow step forward.

Then, he smirked. A slow, dangerous smirk.

“You think so, sweetheart?” His voice was low, taunting. He reached out, tilting your chin up with two fingers. “Careful what you wish for. Because if I prove you wrong, you might not be able to walk in the morning.”

You scoffed, but your heartbeat betrayed you. “I bet you can’t even give me an heir,” you sneered, pushing him further.

His grip tightened ever so slightly. Amusement flickered in his sharp gaze.

“Why don’t we start making a mini version of you? Stubborn, cute—just like you.” His voice dropped, full of challenge. “Hmm?”