In the fifth year of being Adrian Thorne’s dog, he got married. His new wife, a woman who despised the very sight of me, his live-in bodyguard, decided to “introduce” me to her brother—a man with the mental capacity of a three-year-old. In front of all their friends, Adrian had said, “Honestly, you and my idiot brother-in-law are a perfect match. You’ve got that scar on your face; he won’t care that you’re ugly.” He’d leaned in, a conspiratorial smirk on his lips. “He does have a kid, though. You don’t mind being a stepmom, do you?” Why would I mind? It’s not like I wasn’t the one who gave birth to her. 1. The rumor mill of the city’s elite whispered that I was so pathetically in love with Adrian Thorne I’d willingly become his lapdog. But the truth was, before Adrian, there was someone else. That someone was his new brother-in-law, Sebastian Croft. Back then, I was young and wild. I had a string of admirers, including the boy Sebastian's sister, Cecilia, was obsessed with. She couldn’t stand me, so she called her big brother to put the fear of God in me. At the time, Sebastian was far from a simpleton. He was a kingpin, a man who moved with ease through both the glittering upper world and the shadowy underbelly of the city. In the dim light of a private club room, his cold eyes swept over me as his men shoved me in front of him. I was all heavy makeup and dark lipstick, the picture of a teenage delinquent. He frowned in distaste, his arm draped casually over the back of the sofa, the long, elegant fingers of one hand tapping a restless rhythm. “You’re Stella Mathis?” he asked, his voice a low drawl. Before I could answer, he tossed a checkbook onto the table in front of me with a thud. “Your so-called boyfriend just ditched you and ran. How about you go out with me instead?” I stared at him with wide, innocent eyes. “If I go out with you, will you make sure I never go hungry again?” Sebastian’s men snickered. Sebastian did not. A glacial stare from him and their laughter died, their postures snapping to attention. He tapped the checkbook with a single finger. “You tell me. How much do you think it costs to keep you fed? Write whatever you want.” I picked up the pen, hesitated for a moment, and then scrawled a series of numbers. Sebastian took it, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Thirty… million?” I gave a proud, defiant nod. He leaned back against the plush sofa, lighting a cigarette with a flick of a silver lighter. He took a long drag and gestured to one of his men. A moment later, a line of them stood before me, each holding a silver briefcase. They snapped them open. They were filled to the brim with cash. Sebastian blew a perfect smoke ring. “There’s your thirty million. Now, come home with me.” He stood, took my wrist in his firm grip, and led me out of the club. I thought I’d hit the jackpot, that I’d somehow landed a man like Sebastian Croft. Until I found the paintings in his studio. In his spare time, Sebastian painted. His studio was on the third floor of his mansion, a place strictly off-limits to everyone. But my cat, startled by a sudden noise, had darted up the stairs, and I went after it. My sister and I were identical twins. The only difference was the small, red beauty mark at the corner of her right eye, like a permanent teardrop. The moment I pushed open the studio door, I understood. I was just her substitute. It all made sense now. Why, whenever he was drunk, he would pin me beneath him, his fingers tracing the lines of my face, my eyebrows, my eyes, whispering, “So beautiful… especially your eyes.” I backed out of the room, my heart a cold, heavy stone in my chest. Should I demand more money? Or should I just keep playing the part of his pretty, caged bird? I realized I didn't want either. For once in my life, I was going to be strong. I was going to dump Sebastian Croft. I was going to show this prince that he was nothing more than a toy to me, to be discarded when I grew bored. 2. That night, I was uncharacteristically passionate. I straddled his hips, looking down at the taut lines of his muscles, the flush that colored his cheeks. I leaned down, cupped his face in my hands, and kissed his slick, swollen lips. When we were done, I got dressed and tossed a photograph onto the bed. “He’s back,” I said, my voice cool. “I won’t be coming here anymore. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” Sebastian, lounging against the pillows, snatched up the photo. His face was a mask of disbelief. The man in the picture was Adrian Thorne. The boy who had convinced his powerful grandfather to adopt me, to give me a chance at life. He’d been studying abroad, and in his absence, the Thorne family had cast me out. But now he was back, and my loyalty, my life, belonged to him. Sebastian’s voice was a roar as he lunged forward, grabbing my shoulders. “Stella, you fucking used me as a stand-in?” My gaze was steady. “So what if I did? What are you going to do, kill me?” “You think I wouldn’t dare?” But he didn’t. He couldn't. Even with the cold metal of a gun pressed to my temple, I didn’t flinch. He saw the resolve in my eyes and finally, with a guttural snarl, he told me to get out. I slammed the door behind me without a backward glance. To force me to come crawling back, he froze the thirty-million-dollar account. I was young and naive; I didn’t understand the power of money yet. My defiance lasted a month. Then I found out I was pregnant. The doctor told me that due to a medical condition, this might be my only chance to have a child. I had to think carefully. And I wanted this baby, this person who would be a part of me, more than anything. But I knew I couldn’t support a child on my own. So I went back to Sebastian. I proposed a deal: I would carry the baby to term, and he would raise it. He agreed, but with one cold condition: he would never, ever tell the child who its mother was. I knew I had wounded his pride. He hated me. The day I went into labor, Sebastian was in a meeting overseas. I was on the delivery table, pain tearing through me, and I screamed into the phone at him. “You bastard! You promised you’d be here! Where the hell are you? Aaargh!” The contractions warped my voice. On the other end of the line, I could hear the panic in his. “But you’re not due for another week! Don’t be scared, I’m coming back! Right now!” He wasn’t lying. He was there in four hours, having chartered a private jet. He changed into scrubs and rushed into the delivery room just as the baby was crowning. I was delirious with pain. I grabbed his arm, squeezed with all my might, and with one final push, she was born. The sound of a baby’s cry cut through the sterile silence of the room. The nurse brought her to me. A girl. Sebastian had a name chosen for her: Nora. It meant honor, light. A vibrant, thriving life. When he brought her into my room to say goodbye, the news was on the TV. A breaking story about an assassination attempt on Adrian Thorne at the airport. I stared at the screen, my hand frozen on the remote. Sebastian snatched it from me and turned off the TV. “You’re supposed to be resting. No more screens.” I ignored him. He had unfrozen my account and handed me another check. “This is for your services. You are never to speak of the fact that you are my child's mother to anyone.” I looked at the number. Fifty million dollars. He must have truly loved this child to be so generous. That, at least, brought me some peace. Nora would be better off with the Crofts than with me. I was free to go and pledge my life to Adrian Thorne. 3. Adrian Thorne, the eldest grandson of the powerful Thorne family patriarch. Orphaned at a young age, he had been raised by his grandfather. With a weak mother and a pack of greedy uncles and cousins circling like vultures, he was constantly under threat. When I was in the orphanage, on the verge of being assaulted by the predatory director, it was Adrian who had pointed me out, who had insisted his grandfather adopt me, saving me from a horrific fate. I was a weapon, forged by the old man for his grandson’s protection. After giving birth, I went back to Adrian’s side. On paper, I was his executive assistant. In reality, I was his human shield. For five years, I took bullets for him, thwarted assassination attempts, and lived on the edge. The worst time, I threw myself in front of a car meant for him. I was sent flying, and a shard of glass from the shattered windshield sliced across my face, leaving a permanent scar. But Adrian was generous. Every time I risked my life, he paid me handsomely. I had saved a small fortune over the years, enough to buy my own apartment in the heart of the city. I thought this was my life, that I would be bound to Adrian forever. But then, he got married. To my old nemesis. Sebastian’s sister, Cecilia Croft. At a company retreat, Cecilia, with all the employees as her audience, pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me. “Stella, you’re not married yet, are you? I have an idea. How about I set you up with my brother?” She paused for dramatic effect. “I know he only has the intelligence of a three-year-old, but that shouldn’t stop you from sleeping with him. And who knows, if you manage to produce a son for the Croft family, you might just secure your future!” The room erupted in laughter. It was common knowledge that Sebastian, the once-brilliant star of the Croft dynasty, had been reduced to a child after a tragic car accident a year ago. He couldn't even feed himself, let alone father a child. Everyone knew what this was. The new Mrs. Thorne was publicly humiliating her husband’s loyal bodyguard. I looked at Adrian, who stood beside his wife, his arm around her waist. Only he could decide my fate. As if reading my mind, he finally spoke, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “Honestly, you and my idiot brother-in-law are a perfect match. You’ve got that scar on your face; he won’t care that you’re ugly.” He leaned in, a conspiratorial smirk on his lips. “He does have a kid, though. You don’t mind being a stepmom, do you?” The laughter grew louder, more cruel. A colleague, eager to suck up to the new boss’s wife, chimed in. “Go on, Stella, say yes! You’re almost thirty anyway. You’re probably barren by now.” “Yeah, and even if he is a simpleton, Mr. Croft is still gorgeous. More than a freak like you deserves!” I remained silent, my eyes fixed on Adrian. I was still waiting. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. “I know what you want,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t worry. I’ll arrange for your sister to be brought back to the country. As long as you succeed in getting pregnant with my brother-in-law's child, I guarantee she’ll be safe.” “Fine,” I said. Then I turned to Cecilia. “Give me your brother’s number.” She stared at me, a calculating look in her eyes. After a moment, she rattled off a number. I dialed it. The phone was answered on the first ring. “Wifey!” A slightly slurred, childish voice came through the speaker, and a sudden hush fell over the room. Whispers broke out. “Oh my god, is Stella actually involved with him?” “He called her wifey! Maybe she’s really going to marry into the Croft family!” Cecilia snorted. “My brother’s an idiot. He calls everyone who dials that number wifey.” The tension broke. The laughter returned, mocking and cruel. I pressed the phone tighter to my ear. “Sebastian, where are you? I’m coming to find you.” 4. My colleagues whooped and hollered. Even Adrian sat up a little straighter, his eyes narrowed. Cecilia watched him, her expression hardening with resentment towards me. “I’m at home, wifey!” Sebastian’s voice chirped happily. “I bought your favorite chocolate!” “Okay. Wait for me.” I hung up, stood, and faced Adrian. “Don’t forget your promise. I’m leaving.” Then, under the stunned gazes of everyone in the room, I grabbed my bag and walked out. “Holy crap, she’s actually doing it. She’s going for the simpleton.” “Well, he’s still rich and handsome…” “Everyone, quiet down!” Adrian snapped, slamming his hand on the table. Cecilia tugged on his sleeve. “Honey, what’s wrong? This was our plan…” Adrian froze. She was right. This was their plan. Send his most loyal dog to get close to Sebastian, to have his child. A child they could then use as a pawn, a puppet king, to seize control of the vast Croft fortune. Sebastian didn’t live at the Croft family estate. He had his own private mansion. Even now, in his diminished state, he was surrounded by a team of servants. I had been a frequent visitor in the past, and the older staff recognized me. When I said I was there to see Sebastian, they let me in without question. But the moment I stepped inside, a young woman in a maid’s uniform blocked my path, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Who are you?” The butler who had let me in answered, his smile thin. “A friend of Mr. Croft’s. He gave standing orders that she is to be admitted at any time.” The maid’s face flushed with anger. “Get her out of here!” The butler didn’t move. “It’s not your place to give orders. You are a nanny, hired by Miss Croft to care for her brother. You are not the mistress of this house. Remember your station.” The nanny, whose name I would later learn was Amelia, bristled with indignation. Before she could retort, a little girl of about five came bounding down the grand staircase. She was wearing a pristine white princess dress, her long, dark hair gleaming. Her large, grape-like eyes were fixed on me. Following close behind her was a tall, lean man of about six-foot-three. He watched the girl with a gentle, vacant expression. He was dressed in a charcoal-gray vest over a matching striped shirt. As the little girl took the last leap from the stairs, he reached out and steadied her. The girl tilted her head, her gaze curious. She looked from me to Sebastian, then back again. Sebastian remained silent, his eyes also on me. Suddenly, the little girl let go of his hand and ran towards me. She threw her arms around my legs, looked up, and said in a sweet, clear voice, “Mommy!” A collective gasp went through the staff. Amelia’s jaw dropped. I saw her pull out her phone, and I knew she was recording. I knelt, stroking the little girl’s soft hair. “I’m not your mommy, sweetie. My name is Stella. I’m a friend of your aunt’s. She sent me.” Amelia’s face fell with disappointment. She put her phone away and beckoned to the child. “Nora, come here. She’s not your mother. Haven’t I told you not to talk to strangers?”
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