Married to the Devil, Pregnant by the king

The first gunshot shattered the glass chandelier. Elara screamed before she even knew why. Music stopped. Guests ducked. Someone shouted. The luxury ballroom exploded into chaos as bullets tore through white roses and silk curtains. Elara’s hands shook inside the lace sleeves of her wedding dress. Her heart slammed so hard it hurt. She had married Lucien Blackwood less than an hour ago. The most feared billionaire in the city. Before she could move, Lucien was already in front of her. “Down,” he ordered. His voice cut through the panic—cold, sharp, unafraid. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her from the stage just as another shot hit the wall behind them. Glass rained down. People ran. Security shouted orders. Lucien didn’t look back. He dragged Elara through a side door, his grip iron-strong. His body shielded hers completely. She could hear bullets. Smell smoke. Feel his heartbeat—steady, controlled. “How—how is this happening?” she gasped. Lucien didn’t answer. They reached a narrow hallway. A hidden door slid open. Inside was a steel panic room, small and dark. Lucien pushed her inside. “No,” Elara cried, panic flooding her chest. “Don’t leave me.” His eyes met hers for half a second. “I will come back,” he said. “Do not open this door for anyone but me.” Then he slammed it shut. The lock sealed with a heavy click. Silence. Elara collapsed against the wall, breath shaking. Her wedding dress felt too tight. Her chest burned. She pressed her hands to her stomach without thinking. It was supposed to be a fake marriage. A contract. Safety. Money. Not this. Minutes passed—or seconds. She couldn’t tell. Her head spun. The room felt smaller. Hotter. Then pain hit her. Sharp. Sudden. She gasped and doubled over, clutching her stomach. Fear crashed into her like ice water. “No,” she whispered. “Please… not now.” She felt warmth between her legs. Blood. Her vision blurred. The walls tilted. She slid to the floor, heart pounding in terror—not for herself, but for the secret she carried. The secret no one could know. Outside, muffled voices shouted. Heavy footsteps ran past the door. A gun fired again—closer this time. Elara tried to scream, but her throat closed. The door finally burst open. Lucien stormed in, gun in hand, suit torn, blood splattered across his white shirt—none of it his. His eyes swept the room, sharp and deadly— Then they landed on Elara. On the blood soaking her dress. “Elara.” He dropped to his knees beside her, all control gone in an instant. His hands hovered, unsure where to touch. “Stay with me,” he ordered, but his voice wasn’t cold now. It was tight. Fear slipped through. Her lips trembled. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she whispered. Lucien frowned. “Mean for what to happen?” She tried to answer—but the darkness rushed in fast. As her eyes closed, she heard Lucien shout for a doctor. And then the words that would change everything forever— “She’s pregnant.”