4 A.M.

It was 4 a.m.

The entire modern mansion was silent beneath the deep darkness of night. The floor-to-ceiling glass walls reflected the cold moonlight, while the city lights in the distance blinked faintly like tired eyes.

Christiana stood frozen outside the bathroom door.

She was wearing a silky champagne nightgown. Her hair was slightly messy, and her face had gone pale after waking from a dull pain in her lower back. One hand rested on her pregnant belly, while the other gripped the hallway wall to keep herself steady.

At first, she had only been looking for Richard.

She had woken up and realized her husband was no longer beside her. Half of the wide bed had gone cold. The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the warm yellow light spilling from the crack beneath the bathroom door at the end of the hallway.

Then she heard his voice.

Richard’s voice was deep, calm, and smooth, just like always. It was the same voice that had once made her feel safe on nights when she worried about the baby. But now, behind that half-closed door, his voice sounded so cold it made her blood turn still.

“Shola, I told you already. I have everything under control.”

Christiana stopped breathing.

The name Shola made her heart pound harder. Shola was Richard’s best friend. The man who always laughed loudly at dinners, always called her “dear sister-in-law,” and always congratulated her for becoming a mother.

Inside the bathroom, Richard chuckled softly.

“I got this foolish woman pregnant.”

Christiana’s entire world cracked open.

She could not breathe.

The hand resting on her belly trembled. The baby moved slightly inside her, just a tiny movement, but it was enough to make tears rush into her eyes.

This foolish woman.

Pregnant.

Not “my wife.” Not “Christiana.” Not “the woman I love.”

Just a tool.

Just a trap.

From the other end of the call, Shola’s voice came faintly through the phone speaker.

“Then why don’t you divorce her?”

There was a short silence.

Then Richard laughed.

It was not the gentle laugh he used in front of others. It was low, cold, and full of calculation.

“Why would I divorce her?” Richard said slowly. “Now she can never leave.”

Christiana lifted her hand to cover her mouth.

Not because she wanted to stay silent.

But because if she did not, the broken sob rising in her throat would expose her.

Richard continued, speaking as casually as if he were discussing a business deal.

“She has always been afraid of her child growing up without a father. I only had to use the right fear. Once the baby is born, she will stay. Then I’ll make her sign over control of her family assets. After that, everything belongs to me.”

Christiana stepped backward.

Her heel touched the wooden floor, making a small sound.

Inside the bathroom, Richard instantly went quiet.

The door opened.

Richard stood there in dark silk pajamas, his hair slightly messy, his phone still in his hand. The warm bathroom light behind him made half of his face bright and the other half shadowed. For one second, panic flashed in his eyes.

But it disappeared too quickly.

So quickly that if Christiana had not seen it herself, she would have thought she had imagined it.

Richard lowered his phone. His face returned to the gentle expression she knew too well.

“Christiana?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

She looked at him through her tears.

Her voice came out as a broken whisper.

“Richard…?”

He took one step toward her.

She immediately stepped back.