I Married Him To Save Our Sick Son

Forrest had already taken off for work. As I made my way down the grand staircase, one of the maids—dressed in a crisp, classic uniform—greeted me with forced politeness. "Good morning, Mrs. Murphy."

The staff here, like everyone else in the Murphy household, were always courteous but distant. They treated me with that chilly, reserved respect that comes from my awkward place in this family.

I knew exactly what they thought of me.

After all, my father was notorious, a walking scandal, and my mother had been the other woman. Me? Unmarried and already a mother to Forrest's child. And to top it off, I'd married him for money to have another baby.

Let them look down on me—I was staying anyway.

Because when I was seventeen, I fell hopelessly, stupidly in love with Forrest Murphy. And for our little boy.

After breakfast, I wandered into the sprawling gardens, hoping to catch a glimpse of my son. No school today. The Murphy estate gardens were like something out of an English manor painting—vivid blossoms soaking up the sun, their heady perfume drifting on the air.

Luck was on my side. Up ahead, I spotted the nanny with Little Sam.

At three, he was an angelic vision—but delicate, his cheeks pale and sickly in a way that twisted my heart with love and pain.

Oh, my sweet boy. Don't you worry. I'll save you. I swear it.

Sam wasn't much of a talker. No matter how the nanny cooed and coaxed, his little face stayed stoic, reserved—just like his cold, hard father.

Seeing him was a rare, precious joy. I moved toward him carefully, my heart slamming against my ribs.

When the nanny looked away, I bent down and whispered, "Hey, handsome little man!" I reached out, aching to touch his tiny hand.

But Sam was ever the vigilant one. He pulled back in a flash, his dark eyes swimming with wary suspicion.

Like father, like son.

I tried to inch closer, but the nanny caught me.

"Sam, come here right now!" she gasped, scooping him up like I was some kind of threat. She hurried back toward the main house without a backward glance.

Watching my son being carried away like that? It shattered me.

Dejected, I dragged myself back to the villa to get ready for Sophie Mitchell's birthday party that afternoon.

Sophie's party was held in a stunning hall—champagne towers rising high, fairy lights twinkling overhead, and tables piled with exquisite food. The room buzzed with chatter and laughter.

After wishing Sophie a happy birthday and handing over my gift, I slipped away to the quieter buffet corner for something good to eat.

"You should try the steak—it's killer here," a voice said.

I turned. A guy in trendy streetwear stood beside me, sharp features set off by a bold streak of blonde. His smile was way too bright and way too mischievous.

"Thanks," I said flatly, grabbing a glass of juice and stepping away.

"Has anyone ever told you you're absolutely stunning? I mean, crazy beautiful," he pressed, all enthusiasm.

"Has anyone ever told you your pickup lines are seriously from the Stone Age?" I shot back, trying to shake him off.

He followed, eyes sweeping over me head to toe. "I'm serious. You're breathtaking."

I stopped, swirling my drink, and let him look his fill. "I'm married. You're wasting your time."

His expression flickered—a blush creeping up before he let out a low chuckle. "Andy Jennings. We're definitely destined to meet again."

Destined, my ass.

I smirked, heading for a secluded lounge at the edge of the hall, desperate for an escape from his persistence.

Andy watched me go, his gaze fixed on my retreat like I was the most interesting thing he'd seen all night.

I settled into the quietest corner I could find, savoring my juice in peace. Most guests were too busy showing off in the main hall to bother me.

A waiter in uniform approached with a tray of delicacies. "You're a guest of Miss Mitchell's, correct?" he asked politely.

"Yes."

"Please, enjoy." He set the tray down and left.

Now that was service.

I lost myself in the food and the solitude—juicy steak, succulent shrimp—every bite a little slice of heaven.

After I'd eaten my fill, a drowsy warmth crept over me. I meant to get up, go home, and crash, but my eyelids grew heavy. Before I knew it, my head was on the table, out cold.

Outside the lounge, two men in hotel uniforms had been waiting. The moment they saw me asleep, they slipped in. Quietly, they lifted me and started toward a pre-booked room upstairs—fast.

"Ouch!" one of them yelped as he was suddenly thrown off balance. "Who the hell dares mess with my plan?" he snarled, spinning around.

Standing there was the same young guy from before, still in streetwear, blonde streak catching the light. He looked equal parts cool and dangerous.

"Who are you? What the hell do you think you're doing?" The sleazy man scrambled to his feet, ready to throw down.