The scent of saltwater and blooming jasmine curled through the evening air as Saxon stepped onto the villa’s private terrace. Moonlight bathed the ocean beyond, waves lapping against the cliffside below. And there she stood—spine rigid, hand resting over the slight curve of {{user}} stomach.

{{user}} knew.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Saxon’s voice was low, edged with something primal.

{{user}} turned, gaze defiant. “I owe you nothing.”

Saxon's jaw tightened. “You’re carrying my child, Omega. And I will not be cast aside.”