Ivy’s POV
I couldn’t believe how well my plan was working.
The rumors were everywhere online now—everyone was talking about being pregnant with Ryan’s child. I imagined Kane would be thrilled.
Just then, my phone lit up with a call from Kane.
"Well, well," his voice dripped with smugness. "I’m impressed. Didn’t think you had it in you, pulling off sothing this clever."
I bead at his praise, relief washing over . Finally, I was safe from his threats.
"Is there anything else you’d like to do?" I asked sweetly, twirling my hair around my finger. No harm in showing my eagerness to please him.
"Go to the Blackwood mansion," Kane instructed. "Tell Ryan’s grandmother about your pregnancy. Evelyn has been desperate for a great-grandchild for years."
My stomach knotted at the thought. Evelyn Blackwood had always seen right through , making no secret of her distaste.
"She won’t accept ," I protested, my voice smaller than I intended. "She... she doesn’t like ."
"The baby changes everything," Kane assured confidently. "Trust , I know my mother. Just go."
I bit my lip, weighing my options. If this worked—if I could actually marry into the Blackwood family—I’d have everything I’d ever dread of. Wealth, status, security... it was all within reach.
"Fine," I agreed. "I’ll go right away."
I hung up and rummaged through my closet, finally finding what I needed—a tight dress with strategic ruching that created the perfect illusion of a small baby bump. I smoothed my hands over the fabric, admiring my reflection. Convincing enough.
An hour later, I stood at the grand entrance of the Blackwood mansion, my heart hamring against my ribs. The butler’s face soured when he saw , but I pushed past his disapproval.
"I need to see Mrs. Blackwood imdiately," I insisted. "It’s urgent family business."
I was left waiting in the formal sitting room for nearly thirty minutes. Just when I thought she wouldn’t see , Evelyn Blackwood entered, her silver hair perfectly coiffed, her posture regal despite her advanced age.
"Mrs. Blackwood!" I cried, throwing myself dramatically at her feet. "Please help ! I’m carrying Ryan’s baby, and I don’t know what to do!"
I clutched at the hem of her expensive slacks, forcing tears to stream down my face. Evelyn stared down at , one eyebrow arched skeptically.
"Is that so?" she asked, her voice cool and asured.
"Yes! I have proof!" I fumbled in my purse, producing the dical reports Kane had arranged. "These are from the hospital. Please, you’ve always wanted a great-grandchild, haven’t you?"
I watched her face carefully as she examined the docunts. Kane had been thorough—even the family doctor had been bribed to confirm my story if necessary.
Slowly, the ice in Evelyn’s expression lted. Her lips curved into a smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she looked from the papers to my strategically protruding belly.
"Well, well," she murmured, suddenly all warmth and graciousness. "Who would have thought you’d be the one to give this family its next generation? Get up, dear. No Blackwood child should have its mother on her knees."
The transformation was dizzying. One minute I’d been groveling; the next, I was being guided to the most comfortable chair, with Evelyn herself adjusting cushions behind my back.
"Prepare the east guest room for Ms. Hart," she commanded the hovering housekeeper. "And tell the kitchen to prepare so bone broth with ginseng. Order so bird’s nest soup as well. The baby needs proper nourishnt!"
I could barely contain my elation. Just like that, I’d gone from outcast to cherished vessel. The power was intoxicating.
"It’s such a blessing to carry Ryan’s child," I said, placing my hands protectively over my fake bump. "I just wish he would acknowledge us."
"Don’t you worry about Ryan," Evelyn patted my hand. "He’ll co around. For now, you’ll stay here where I can keep an eye on you. Whatever you need, just ask."
I smiled demurely. "Thank you, Mrs. Blackwood. You’re so kind."
"Call Grandmother," she insisted, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
After a lavish al where the staff treated like royalty, I was shown to a luxurious bedroom suite. As I sank into the impossibly soft mattress, I couldn’t help but giggle at how easily I’d manipulated my way into the Blackwood fortune.
This was just the beginning. Soon, Ryan would have no choice but to marry . His precious Serena would be forgotten, and I’d have everything Sophie had ever wanted but failed to get.
I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face, dreaming of diamond rings and society galas,never once considering that my house of cards might co tumbling down around .
***
Serena’s POV
I’ve been stuck in this hospital bed for three days now, and I’m going absolutely crazy.
The doctor’s orders for complete bed rest feel like torture for soone used to running a design studio.
My only entertainnt has been watching the shadows creep across the wall and nurses bustling in and out.
Well, that’s not entirely true. There’s also been Ryan.
Despite my protests, he’s barely left my side these past seventy-two hours.
He converted the small couch in my hospital room into a makeshift bed, refusing to go ho even when I insisted. "Your security team can watch ," I’d argued on the first night.
"I’m not leaving you," he’d replied simply, his voice leaving no room for debate.
It should annoy , this possessiveness.
But watching him now, asleep in that uncomfortable chair with his suit jacket draped over his chest and his hair falling across his forehead, I feel sothing dangerously close to tenderness.
He stirs suddenly, as if sensing my gaze. His eyes find mine imdiately, alert despite the early hour.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, voice still rough with sleep.
"Like I’m going to die of boredom before this baby ever has a chance."
A smile touches his lips. "The doctor said you can leave today if your vitals stay stable."
He stands, stretching his tall fra, and my eyes involuntarily trace the way his shirt pulls across his shoulders.
When he catches looking, I quickly avert my gaze, but not before noticing the knowing glint in his eyes.
"Hungry?" he asks, reaching for his phone. "I can have sothing brought in."
"Hospital food is punishnt enough without adding breakfast to the mix."
He chuckles, and the sound does strange things to my insides. "I ant real food. From that French bakery you like on Fifth."
I blink in surprise. "You rember that place?"
He smiles, a quiet, almost rueful expression in his eyes.
"I’m sorry I didn’t know any of this about you before, Serena. But now... I know what you like to eat, how you take your coffee, the little habits that make you... you."
The air between us suddenly feels charged. I search for a sarcastic reply but find none.
"You don’t have to do all this," I say instead, gesturing vaguely at him, at the room filled with flowers he’s had delivered daily.
"I want to." He moves closer, perching on the edge of my bed. The mattress dips under his weight, sliding fractionally toward him. "You’re carrying my child."
"Our child," I correct automatically.
His eyes darken at my words. "Our child," he repeats, and there’s sothing possessive in the way he says it that sends a shiver up my spine.
His hand reaches out, hovering questioningly above my stomach. I hesitate, then nod. His palm settles gently over where our baby grows, warm even through the hospital blanket.
"Have you felt movent yet?" he asks, his voice hushed with wonder.
"No, it’s too early. Another month, maybe."
His thumb strokes absently over the blanket, and I try desperately to ignore how intimate this feels, how natural. For a mont, I let myself imagine what it would be like if things were different between us—if we were just a normal couple excited about our first baby.
But we’re not normal. We’re divorced. He lied to for years. He kept hidden away like a shaful secret.
And yet... the way he’s looking at now...
"Ryan," I say, my voice wavering slightly. "What are we doing here?"
He knows I don’t an in the hospital.
"To win you back," he answers honestly, his eyes fixed on mine. "To make you fall in love with again."
I open my mouth to argue, but his phone buzzes, cutting the mont short. He frowns as he checks it.
"What is it?" I ask.
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