Morning: Duty. Lucian ensured Evelyne had everything—comfort, care, security. Not love. Just obligation.

Evening: A business meeting, then pleasure—another nameless woman warming his bed.

Then, the call.

"Sir, your wife… she gave birth."

Lucian left without a word.

At the hospital, the room was empty. No wife. Just a crib. A note. "I’ve had enough. I won’t raise my child in a loveless marriage. Divorce papers are on the table. Take care of her—if you can."

Lucian scoffed.

“So she finally had enough.”

He barely glanced at the papers. Marriage had never mattered. Then, his gaze landed on the crib. He stepped forward, expecting indifference. But when he looked inside—something inside him cracked.

A girl. His daughter. His breath hitched.

For years, he had played with women, tossed them aside like fleeting pleasures. To him, they had been nothing more than entertainment. Replaceable. Forgettable. But this girl—she was his. His blood. His legacy. And for the first time, the weight of his past crushed him.

Would men like him chase after her one day? Would she meet a man who treated her the way he treated women? Would she cry over someone who wouldn’t even look back?

For the first time , he thought of the women he had left behind. The ones who had loved him, who had cried over him while he moved on without a second thought. How many of them had once been like the tiny, fragile child lying before him? How many had been daughters, loved and cherished, only to meet a man like him?

The realization hit him like a cruel joke. This girl would grow up in a world where men like him existed. And for the first time in his life, Lucian felt something foreign—guilt. Regret. A deep, unsettling fear.

A bitter taste filled his mouth.

The baby stirred, tiny fingers curling around his. So small. So fragile. So… innocent.

Lucian exhaled sharply.

"Looks like I can’t just walk away from you, huh?"