I Married Him To Save Our Sick Son

The exclusive members-only restaurant had that peaceful, high-end vibe—exquisite dishes and prices that made your eyes water. I was enjoying my meal with my bestie, Emma Turner, when her gaze locked onto the entrance. "Look, it's Fiona Murphy! Aren't they stunning?"

Curious, I glanced up to see the jaw-dropping couple walk in. The guy had a strong, chiseled face, his sharp, intense gaze overshadowing his handsome features. Tall and confident, he was dressed to kill, radiating pure power and prestige.

The woman beside him was just as captivating, with a slender, graceful figure. She wore a vintage beige dress that hugged her curves, soft curls cascading over her shoulders, a chic scarf elegantly wrapped around her neck. She was sophistication personified, known for her gig as a top-tier TV host.

As I watched them, my fingers tightened around my fork, and my heart hammered painfully in my chest.

"Aren't they a sight for sore eyes?" Eva asked, completely clueless to the war raging inside me.

Yeah, they were—if only the man wasn't my husband.

Forrest Murphy's gaze met mine for a split second, but he just brushed it off, confidently guiding Fiona past our table like I was nothing.

Fiona, ever the picture of sweetness, beamed warmly as she passed. True to his bold, cocky nature, Forrest didn't even try to avoid me. Instead, he led Fiona to a booth right next to ours, acting like I was invisible.

I could catch snippets of their conversation, Fiona's gentle laughter floating over like tiny, stabbing needles.

This was a straight-up provocation.

I shot up from my seat, but instead of confronting them, I fled to the restroom.

In the restroom, I finally let out the breath I'd been holding. My heart ached like crazy.

I stared at my reflection, fighting back the tears. But then Fiona walked in, and I quickly pulled myself together, shoving all that emotion down.

She glided in, pulling out a compact mirror. While touching up her lipstick, she glanced at me in the mirror with a smirk. "So, how's it feel being Mrs. Murphy these past few weeks?"

I'd seen through Fiona's nice-girl act a long time ago. That sweet facade of hers was all for the public—hiding the real her.

I arched an eyebrow and said coolly, "Feels amazing. There's a line of women who'd kill to be in my shoes."

Fiona let out a light laugh. "You're just a placeholder. In a year, the Murphys will be done with you."

"Miss Quinn, at your age, you're always stressing about the future. Us younger ones live in the moment—who knows what tomorrow even brings?" I shot back with all the cockiness of youth.

Fiona's gentle smile vanished, replaced by an icy stare. "Living in the moment, huh? Well, right now, your husband is with me, making me laugh."

I wagged a finger at her, all playful. "Don't get your panties in a twist, big sis. Stress gives you wrinkles. Sure, he's with you now, but tonight, he'll be back in my bed, and we'll be working on making a family. Miss Quinn, you're pushing thirty, aren't you? Time to stop chasing after dinner dates and find a real man, settle down, pop out a kid. Clock's ticking."

Fiona's face turned white with rage, her lips trembling. I gave myself a mental high-five and walked out of the restroom, humming a tune.

Not wanting to watch my husband flirt, I grabbed Eva and we bolted after paying the bill.

After saying goodbye to Eva, I hailed a cab back to the Murphy estate.

Murphy Manor was over-the-top lavish—a European-style estate tucked between two hills with a crystal-clear lake nearby. Picture-perfect.

The estate had three stunning villas. The main one housed Forrest's grandma, parents, sister, and his younger brother Isa. Forrest and I had the east villa; his brother took the west.

I skipped the main house and headed straight to the villa I shared with Forrest. Inside, it was pure luxury—like British royal decor. Even the throw pillows were custom-made by some top British brand. Forrest spared no expense designing this place. For someone else, of course.

A dark pang hit me again—Fiona was right. I was just filling someone else's shoes.

I stayed up past ten that night, waiting for Forrest. He never showed. Figured he was with Fiona, so I gave up and crashed.

I was half-asleep when I felt someone by the bed. I opened my eyes and looked straight into a pair of cold, piercing eyes.

Forrest.

He'd just showered, his damp hair a little messy. A white towel hung low on his hips, showing off his defined chest and abs that looked carved from stone.

I'd always had this gut-level fear of Forrest—irrational and bone-deep, like he was some kind of predator. I forced a shaky smile. "You're back."

Forrest stared down at me with disgust and a dangerous glint. "So, the mask finally slips. No more playing innocent."

I bit my lip, mentally cursing Fiona. That woman had clearly turned him against me.

Suddenly, Forrest leaned over me, his powerful frame looming like a dark cloud. Fear washed over me in a crashing wave.

"Who gave you permission to pull stunts like that? We have a deal—stay married till you pop out a kid. Did you actually think you were Mrs. Murphy?" His rough hand clamped down on my shoulder.

Terrified by his icy demeanor, I couldn't even speak.