“I don’t understand you, Lyra,” she whispered, voice thick with pity. “I really don’t. Why do you let them treat you like this?”
I forced a small smile, weak and tired, as she guided me back to my room.
She opened a small jar and pressed it into my palm. “This will help with the burn. It’s angry, but it’s not too deep. Put it on every day and you won’t scar badly.”
“Thank you,” I muttered, my throat raw.
After she left, I went to the bathroom and washed the frosting off my face. In the mirror, my eyes were red and swollen, my lip split where I’d bitten down from the shock.
I stared at myself for a long time.
Then I spread the ointment over my arm, hissing when it touched the raw skin.
“What a damn idiot,” I whispered.
Eleven years ago, I was supposed to marry Magnus Caldwin.
The wedding was set. The families were aligned. The power shift was planned down to the last detail.
And then everything went wrong.
An “accident,” they called it.
I nearly died.
While I was bleeding out in a hospital bed, my best friend—Ariel—stepped into my place and married him instead, keeping the Caldwin name clean and their empire stable.
When I finally woke up, I learned the truth: Magnus was already married.
The guilt in his eyes was real when he realized I hadn’t run away from him. I hadn’t abandoned him. I hadn’t betrayed him.
So I told him, straight to his face, to divorce Ariel and marry me like he was supposed to.
He refused.
“Don’t do this, Lyra,” Magnus said, his voice tight. “Ariel did what she had to. She protected the family. Do you know what it would look like if I threw her out immediately?”
“And what about me?” I demanded.
His gaze softened. “One year,” he promised. “Give me one year. Then I’ll divorce her and make you mine.”
I believed him.
I shouldn’t have, but I did.
Before that year was even over, he came to me with a request that made my stomach drop.
“Lyra… Ariel wants a baby before she leaves,” Magnus said.
I stared at him. “Before she leaves? What are you talking about?”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw like he hated himself. “Her grandparents. They’re dying. They want to see a grandchild. It’s their last wish.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And why does that involve me?”
His voice sharpened, impatient. “Because she can’t have children.”
The words hit like a slap.
Then he said it, as if it was nothing.
“She wants you to carry them.”
I felt my whole body go cold.