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1155 Words
Xavier got home after sunset, the rain pouring down hard enough to blur the estate lights. The gates closed behind him with a metallic clang as he sped through the driveway, water splashing violently against the tyres. Xavier didn’t bother greeting anyone. He went straight to his study.
The room was warm, the fireplace already lit, but warmth was not what he was looking for. His chest felt tight, restless. He shrugged off his coat and reached for the buttons of his shirt, tugging it over his head.
That was when he noticed it.
A smear of red.
He froze.
At first, he thought it was blood—after all, the shirt was already smeared with blood from earlier, but this was different. Faint. Deliberate. Lipstick. And on the collar of his white shirt.
His heart dropped.
Had he really seen that? He lifted the fabric closer to his face, staring at it like it might disappear if he looked long enough. It didn’t. His jaw clenched as he raked a hand through his damp hair, trying to recall Lisa’s expressions throughout the day.
She couldn’t have noticed.
Right?
At the party, the daughter of Wallace Corp had been bold enough to approach him in the men’s bathroom. Bold enough to corner him by the sink as if she owned the place. She had been bold, reckless, even. She laughed too loudly, stood too close, and touched when she shouldn’t.
She was one of the reasons he had been left with no choice but to marry Lisa.
Marrying the daughter of the Wallace Group would have stripped the Saxton Group of its independence. Xavier’s goal had always been to make the Saxton empire bigger than every other business so he could finally sever ties with his toxic family. He was tired—tired of being his father’s weapon, tired of carrying out orders his father subjected him to.
He wanted nothing to do with them anymore.
Lisa had been the safest option. The quiet one. The obedient one.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he walked to the fireplace and shoved the blood-stained shirt into the flames. The fire swallowed it greedily, curling the fabric into ash until nothing remained.
“Mm-mm.”
Xavier turned sharply.
Angelica stood quietly at the doorway, hands clasped together, her aged eyes unreadable. “Sir,” she said softly, “would you like to eat in the study tonight?”
“No.” His voice was sharp. “The dining room, as usual. Call my wife.”
Angelica hesitated. “The young miss isn’t home yet, sir.”
“Shit.” The word slipped out before he could stop it. He reached into his pocket for his phone and froze. He hadn’t called a car.
With a curse, he brushed past Angelica, ran down the stairs shirtless, threw his coat over his bare torso, and rushed back into the rain.
***
When Lisa opened her eyes, the lights were blinding.
She groaned softly and raised a hand to shield her face. The sterile smell hit her next, sharp and unmistakable. Her heart pounded as her surroundings slowly came into focus.
A hospital room.
This was where Xavier always brought her when she fainted. The same white walls, the same humming machines. Relief flickered through her—until she realised something was wrong.
Xavier wasn’t there.
“Terrace?” she whispered, her voice dry. “Where are we?”
“Oh, thank God you’re awake.” Terrace rushed to her side, grabbing a cup of water. He gently helped her sit up and pressed it to her lips. “Slowly.”
She drank, her hands trembling. “Where are we?” she asked again.
“A private room at the hospital,” he replied. “You fainted all of a sudden. You don’t remember?”
“Fainted,” she repeated, dazed.
“Yes. It was a real shock.” He paused, then added, almost casually, “Do women always go through this when they’re pregnant?”
Lisa choked on the water.
“Pregnant?!” she gasped.
“What’s with the surprises today?” Terrace muttered.
“Terrace, I’m serious!” Panic rose sharply in her chest.
He frowned, then reached into his bag and pulled out a thin folder with her name printed neatly on the front. He handed it to her.
Her fingers shook as she opened it.
Pregnancy test results. Medical notes. An ultrasound image.
A tiny shape.
Her breath caught.
“No,” she whispered. “This can’t be happening.”
Tears filled her eyes as she clutched the folder to her chest. “I took those pills every morning. Every single morning. It’s impossible.”
“Contraceptives aren’t a hundred percent effective,” Terrace said gently. “If you want another test, I can arrange it.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine.” Her voice cracked. “I need to go home. Xavier will be worried.”
She swung her legs off the bed, then froze.
“Wait,” she said slowly. “This changes everything.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “This means I’m no longer Xavier’s wife.”
“That makes no sense,” Terrace said. “If there’s one thing I know about Xavier, it’s how possessive he is. He won’t abandon you.”
“He will,” Lisa said bitterly. “It’s in our marriage contract. If I get pregnant and refuse to abort, the marriage is terminated.”
Terrace stared at her. “What? That’s not a real condition for marriage.”
She laughed hollowly. “It is for the Saxtons.”
“I’m sorry,” she added quickly. “I shouldn’t involve you in all this. You can leave—”
“No,” he cut in firmly. “And that’s not even up for debate.”
She looked at him, startled.
“The only thing you can do now,” he continued, “is seek a divorce before he finds out. Before this gets ugly.”
A divorce.
The word felt heavy.
If she did that, her family would be safe—but she would have nowhere to go. They would only send her back to Xavier or sell her off to someone else. That left only one person.
Terrace.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “I’m here if you need me, Lisa. Anytime.”
She knew what he was offering—and what it would cost.
Terrace Wallace was the last son of the Wallace Group. Whoever he married meant nothing to the company. He was safe. But Lisa knew better than to use him. She didn’t feel that way about him.
Still, she had her stocks. Her savings. Enough to protect herself and her baby, at least for now.
She swallowed.
“Terrace,” she said quietly, “I need your help.”
- Writer
