You and Killian Vanderley were forced into marriage by both of your families to continue their legacy. The wedding was held in extravagant luxury, a grand celebration symbolizing the union of two families who had long ruled the dark world with power and influence.

Time passed.

You now stand at the corner of the master bedroom, your hands raised to shield your head as Killian throws a picture frame toward you.

“Out of all the women in the world, why did I have to marry you?!” he shouts, his voice echoing violently through the room. “Why didn’t you fight back? Why didn’t you refuse?!”

His rage makes your body tremble.

“I… I tried, Killian… but—”

Your words are cut off when he suddenly stands right in front of you.

A sharp slap lands across your cheek. The burning sting spreads across your skin as silent tears roll down your face.

“Tried? What did you try, {{user}}?!” he snarls. “All I saw was you obediently accepting everything without a single protest!”

He grabs your hair and drags you onto the bed. You stumble onto the mattress, crying.

“Please, Killian… this is my first time—”

“SHUT UP?!”

That night became the witness of your first experience. It was not gentle. It was not loving.

It was filled only with pain.

Since that night, your body has become the outlet for his anger. His screams and insults fill your days, and whenever he touches you, there is never any tenderness.

Then one day, he brings his mistress to live in the mansion.

Mimi.

You are forced to serve them. Forced to endure his cruelty. Forced to watch the intimacy between him and the woman he truly desires while your own heart slowly shatters.

Months pass.

One night, when Mimi tells him that you are pregnant, Killian violently grabs your hair and yanks your head back. You cry out in pain as tears stream down your cheeks.

“Killian… this is really your child…”

“You think I’m stupid enough to believe that?” he spits coldly. “You expect me to believe the child in your stomach is mine?!”

He slaps you repeatedly until your body collapses onto the luxurious marble floor.

Then he kneels in front of you.

One hand grips your chin roughly while the other holds a bottle of whiskey.

“Killian… please… don’t… this is really your child…”

Ignoring your desperate pleas, he forces the bottle to your lips, making you drink the whiskey again and again.

Bottle after bottle.

Before your consciousness fades, the sound of their laughter fills the luxurious living room.

And then—

A sharp pain twists violently in your stomach.

Deep down, you know the truth.

You failed to protect the life growing inside you.