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Broken Contract, Secret Heir Novel Cover

Broken Contract, Secret Heir

I gave Peter Hart everything—my loyalty, my love—and he repaid me with cruelty, discarding me for failing to bear his heir. Broken, I fled into the arms of Caspian, who seemed like salvation. But his protection was another cage, a calculated refuge. Then Peter returned, a predator refusing to lose, and devised a merciless contract meant to erase Caspian from my existence. Their collision revealed a shattering secret: they are brothers. Now, carrying a child both men covet for selfish reasons, I stand trapped between two powerful forces ready to annihilate each other for the right to own me.
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Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The opening

Beatrice POV

“Do you really love me?"

The question was hanging in the air like a cloud before a storm. Caspian was leaning over me, his hands on either side of my face. His touch was warm. His eyes were what really caught my attention. They were intense. It hurt my chest. For a moment I let myself believe it. I let myself relax into the sheets and the safety of his gaze.

He was now standing on the side of our huge bed, the morning light showing off his sharp jawline. Every time I looked at him I was reminded of how handsome he was. It wasn't his looks; it was how he carried himself. With a quiet confidence that made everything else seem small.

“Of course. You know I love you. Why is that a question?" He stopped for a moment, his fingers not moving as he looked into my soul.

“I know you do, " I whispered. A small part of me wondered why I felt the need to ask today.

He leaned down. Kissed my forehead before pulling away. The warmth was gone instantly. "Get dressed now, we have to be productive.”

The word "productive" felt like a weight on my shoulders. I watched him go into the bathroom, the sound of the shower soon covering up the noise of the house. I stayed in bed for a moment staring at the ceiling. I knew what "productive" meant to Caspian. It meant meetings and a schedule that didn't leave room for the kind of love we had just talked about. It was going to be a day.

I finally got up wrapping my robe tightly around my waist. My plan was simple: get to the kitchen, start the coffee and make some breakfast.. As I reached the hallway I heard a sound that stopped me.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

It was a sound. It wasn't loud like a delivery driver or happy like a friend. It was calm and steady like a threat. It sent a chill down my spine.

“Can you get the door for me?" Caspian’s voice called out from the bedroom.

I hesitated, my hand on the bannister. My heart was beating fast. I moved toward the door looking through the blinds. I expected to see one of Caspian’s business friends. Instead, I saw a shadow. A man was standing there with two others who looked like they were made of granite. I took a breath and tried to calm my shaking hands. Maybe it was a friend he hadn't mentioned.

I opened the door. The man walked in filling up the foyer.

“My ex, " he said, his voice like a blade. "Nice to meet you.”

I couldn't speak. My throat was. I was breathing shallowly. I froze, my mind screaming that this had to be a dream. It was Peter. The man I had spent years trying to forget was standing in my hallway looking at me with a smirk that told me he knew he had power over me.

He offered his hand. I didn't take it. My hands were shaking a lot.

“What... What are you doing here?" I finally managed to say.

Peter didn’t even look at me when he answered. His eyes were scanning the house judging the art and the marble. "I didn’t come here for you, Beatrice.

Where’s Caspian?”

Before I could process that Peter knew my husband's name I heard footsteps on the stairs. Caspian came down looking sharp in his suit, his face neutral. I waited for him to throw Peter out.

Instead, Caspian’s face broke into a smile. Not the one he gave me in bed but something sharper. "Well hello. Look who’s here. My brother. Nice to meet you.”

Caspian reached the bottom of the stairs. Pulled Peter into a brief hug. I felt like my world had tilted. I stood there feeling sick. My ex-boyfriend and my husband were brothers? How was that possible? How could I have lived with this man, shared a bed with him and not know the basic thing about his family?

“Can I talk to you for a moment?" I hissed, grabbing Caspian’s arm and pulling him toward the kitchen.

“Is this your brother?" I demanded, my voice a frantic whisper. "How come you haven't told me? And what is he doing in our home?”

Caspian looked down at me, his eyes flat and professional. "He’s my brother, Beatrice. I’m sorry I couldn't tell you. I haven't seen him for twenty years. I thought he was dead.”

Behind him, Peter was watching us. He didn't look like a grieving brother. He looked like a hunter. He stared at me in a way that made my skin crawl. He wanted something.. Looking at Caspian’s face I realised that Caspian was prepared to give it to him.

“Well I don't have time here " Peter announced, signalling to the two silent men behind him. One of them stepped forward reaching into a leather briefcase to pull out a stack of documents.

He held them out to Caspian. My husband didn't read them. He didn't flip through the pages. Check the fine print. He didn't even hesitate. He took a pen from his pocket. Signed the documents with a finality that was chilling.

The moment the ink dried the atmosphere shifted.

“Wait, what is that? Caspian?" I stepped forward. The two men with Peter moved faster.

Before I could scream a hand clamped over my mouth. I thrashed, kicking out. They were too strong. A dark fabric was pulled over my eyes. A gag was tied tightly around my jaw.

I waited for Caspian’s voice. I waited for him to fight them off to save me.

There was only silence.

The heavy silence of a man who had just closed a deal. As I was hauled toward the door, the cold morning air hitting my skin, I realised that the "productivity" Caspian had mentioned wasn't about business.

It was about me. Whatever had just happened I was no longer a wife. I was a signed-off asset.. As the door clicked shut behind us I knew I had to figure out the cost of my own soul.

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