Love You, Forever and Always

Ryan quickly hit the end call button.

"I barely have enough time to take care of you—where would I find the energy to go fooling around?"

Harper gave a half smile. "If you're worried about the baby, don't be. I'll take care of myself. If you're worried about me… you really don't need to be. You can kiss whoever you want, mess around with whoever you like. I won't mind."

Ryan's expression darkened. Suddenly, he grabbed her by the shoulders. "Why wouldn't you mind? You're my girlfriend!"

Harper let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Girlfriend? I thought I was your arch-nemesis."

The words caught him off guard. A beat passed, and then it clicked—she was still upset about what had happened at the bar.

Realizing that, oddly, made him feel a little pleased.

"You were jealous?" he said, coaxing her as he slowly guided her toward the bedroom. "I didn't let Olivia kiss me that night. I turned away at the last second. I've got to head to the office tomorrow. Just letting you know in advance."

Then, with deliberate sweetness, he said, "From now on, I'll report everything to you first, okay, Mrs. Delgado?"

That last line hit Harper like a blade—twice over.

It used to be everything she dreamed of.

Now, it just felt like a cruel joke.

…

The next morning, not long after Ryan left the house, Harper received a message from Olivia. It was an address.

"I want to apologize in person. There's something I need to tell you." Harper didn't care what she had to say. She only wanted to make one thing clear: she was leaving Ryan, for good. They wouldn't be seeing each other again.

Olivia listened quietly, her expression unreadable. "So… you've known all along. What about the baby?"

Harper gently placed a hand over her stomach. For once, a hint of warmth touched her lips.

She had made up her mind. She would cancel the engagement. She would have this child and raise it on her own.

She would never return to this country. The father and child would never meet.

Olivia let out a cold laugh, then clapped her hands together.

From the bedroom, a gang of thuggish men suddenly rushed out.

Harper's heart skipped. Instinct screamed at her to run. But the men quickly surrounded her, leering.

"You wanna leave?" one of them sneered. "Then leave clean. Don't leave Ryan with any reason to come looking for you."

Sweat broke out on Harper's back. Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone to call the cops.

But the men ignored her. Instead, they lunged toward Olivia and ripped her dress apart.

She screamed and grabbed a fruit knife from the table, plunging it into her own neck.

Harper froze.

In the chaos, the front door burst open with a crash.

Ryan stormed in.

The moment he saw the blood on Olivia's neck, something in him snapped. His roar echoed through the room as he tore into the thugs with wild, furious punches.

Blood flew. Bone cracked.

Olivia curled into herself, crying, then threw her arms around him from behind. "Take me away from here… please… I feel so dirty…"

Ryan quickly shrugged off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her trembling frame.

Then he turned—his eyes bloodshot, burning with rage.

His voice was low and deadly. "You're the dirty one."

He stared at Harper like he didn't recognize her. "I never thought you'd be this vicious. Saying you didn't care, pretending to be calm… and all the while, planning this behind my back?"

Harper shook her head numbly. "No… it was her. It was—"

But she stopped. In that moment, she understood.

Olivia had played her. Step by step, forcing her back until she looked like the villain. Even if she screamed the truth now, no one would believe her.

Behind Ryan, Olivia smirked—just barely. A quiet, triumphant curve of the lips. Then she feigned shock and collapsed into his arms.

Panic took over him. Without another glance at Harper, he scooped Olivia up and ran out the door.

Harper tried to follow. But the thugs grabbed her—one by the hand, another by the waist.

"Going somewhere, Miss Sullivan? You still haven't paid us."

Ryan stopped in the doorway.

He looked back.

That gaze—it cut like ice, burned like fire. Cold. Furious.

Then he kicked the door shut.

Locked her in.

Left her to them.

Harper's fear spiked. She grabbed the knife that had fallen to the floor, holding it against herself in desperation.

The men just laughed.

"You think you're some princess like Olivia? Lady, we're not going easy on you."

One of them grabbed her ankle and yanked. She hit the floor hard.

Her belly slammed into the corner of the coffee table.

Pain exploded, hot and sharp, tearing through her.

She tried to push herself up, and found that her hands were slick with something warm.

Blood.

Her voice cracked. "My baby…"