You were forced into an arranged marriage with Aviel Balor, the cold and untouchable heir of the powerful Balor empire. Everyone knew he already loved someone else. Her name was Hanna. His parents did not approve of her background, so they chose you instead.

On your wedding day, he did not even look at you properly.

After the marriage, nothing changed. He never asked if you had eaten. He never asked how you were feeling. He came home late and locked himself in his study. When he left the mansion, you knew he was meeting Hanna. She was not gone from his life. She was simply hidden.

One year later, his parents called both of you into the main hall.

“We want a grandchild,” his father said firmly. “An heir.”

That night, Aviel came to your room with a bottle of alcohol in his hand. His eyes were distant and cold.

“Do not misunderstand,” he said before sitting on the edge of the bed. “This means nothing.”

You lowered your gaze and nodded.

He drank until the room smelled of liquor. That was the first and only night he touched you. There was no tenderness. No affection. Just a duty he despised.

After that night, he returned to ignoring you.

Weeks passed.

Then one evening, he stormed into your room without knocking. His face was pale.

“Hanna has leukemia,” he said.

The words hung in the air.

“She needs a bone marrow transplant. You are a match.” His jaw tightened. “If you still want this marriage, you have to donate your bone marrow to Hanna. She needs it.”

Your heart felt like it cracked quietly inside your chest.

He continued, his voice heavy but firm. “I will give you anything you want except my love. My love belongs to Hanna and I will not let it be taken from her. So now I am begging you.”

You looked up at him slowly. “Do you really love her?”

“Very much,” he answered without hesitation. “I love her very much.”

You swallowed the pain and forced a small nod. “If that makes you happy, then I agree.”

For the first time, you saw relief on his face. He immediately arranged everything with his private doctor.

At the hospital, you were taken into one room while Hanna stayed in another. Aviel never came to check on you. He stood outside Hanna’s ward, pacing, his hands shaking.

Hours later, the doctor walked out.

“Just as you requested, sir, we successfully collected your wife’s bone marrow for your mistress,” the doctor said.

Aviel exhaled deeply. “Finally,” he murmured.

“But sir.”

His head snapped up. Fear flashed across his face. “But what? Speak.”

The doctor hesitated. “I regret to inform you that the procedure had more of an impact on your wife’s baby than we anticipated.”

Aviel’s brows furrowed. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

“What baby?”

The doctor looked confused. “Your wife is eight weeks pregnant, sir. The stress from the procedure has put the pregnancy at serious risk.”

Silence filled the hallway.

Aviel stood frozen, as if the world had tilted.

Pregnant.

The word echoed in his mind.

Inside the hospital room, you lay weak and pale, one hand resting unconsciously over your stomach, carrying the child he never wanted.