Back then, Edward often secluded himself in the mountains due to conflicts with family elders, refusing to inherit the fortune or return to secular life.
Having been saved by him from a fire, I defied all criticism and stubbornly joined him at the tranquil mountain.
I shared simple, disciplined routines with him, bringing him meals and warm clothes.
After a full year of companionship, I finally unlocked his guarded heart–persuading him to descend the mountain and marry me.
Yet I never imagined they’d conspired behind my back for three years.
Amid heart–wrenching pain, fragmented memories surfaced.
During our second year of marriage, heavy rain trapped me on a mountain while visiting Grandpa’s grave in the sub- urbs.
I desperately called Edward’s phone again and again.
Dozens, hundreds of calls–only icy busy tones answered.
Through the endless night, I huddled in a corner, praying his phone had malfunctioned or he was en route.
At dawn’s first light, my frozen screen displayed Samantha’s freshly posted social media update.
There was Edward tenderly fastening a glittering diamond necklace around her neck, his adoring gaze car perfect clarity.
When confronted later, he stated impassively: “The storm made mountain roads treacherous. Why would I risk it?” “Samantha’s your sister. I merely comforted her on her lonely birthday—must you begrudge even that? Donna, don’t be unreasonable.”
I nearly gave up then, but he grasped my hand, whispering:
“My heart belongs to you. My care for her extends only through you–please believe me.”
How ironic it seems now that I foolishly trusted him.
I’d centered my world around his elusive affection, only to be drugged by his own hand and delivered as Carter’s breeding tool.
Wiping away tears, I unlocked my phone to find Edward’s message demanding I remain at Carter Manor as Saman- tha’s surrogate–plus a contact request.
10:49
Chapter 2
David Carter’s profile photo filled the screen:
[“Ms. Donna Rodriguez, apologies—I was drugged too last night. Could we talk when possible?“]
He’d recognized I wasn’t Samantha.
Compulsively, I accepted his request.
Within moments, David called:
“Ms. Rodriguez, would you consider marrying me?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks at his directness. Memories surfaced of his raspy apology during last night’s haze.
Calmly refusing, I stated: “Let’s treat last night as an accident. I require no responsibility from you.”
Edward’s stunned voice cut through the air behind me:
“Responsibility? For what?”
