To Save My Daughter, I'll Bear His Child Again

When Steven Jones personally sent me to prison, the daughter I carried was only two weeks along. I hated him, but the sins of the father fell upon the daughter. This was my debt to him. Eighteen years ago, Owen Shepard, my father, embezzled the Jones Family's project funds, strangling their lifeline. Steven's father had every bone in his body broken and was forced to watch as his wife was violated until she died. It wasn't until the day I was imprisoned that I learned all this from Steven himself. He said, "Maeve, if your father could see you begging for his touch from the son of his enemy, wouldn't he die of rage?" His revenge had been complete: my father was left half-paralyzed and incontinent, while I took his place in prison. Ours was a cursed bond from the start. But Hailey, my daughter, was innocent. I was willing to sacrifice everything to ensure she grew up safe and happy. Yet fate had one last cruel twist in store. Just one week after my release, Hailey was diagnosed with leukemia. The genetic match from Steven's registry sample had failed, leaving Hailey on the brink of death. A mother in the patient support group told me the quickest fix was to have another child with her biological father. The newborn's cord blood could be used for a bone marrow transplant. To save Hailey, I was willing to do anything. I had to use every means to seduce Steven and get another child from him. I changed into my old uniform from when I was Steven's assistant: the tight white blouse, pencil skirt, stockings, and heels—all the things that used to drive him wild. I slipped into the interview line, rode up to the 33rd floor, and headed straight for the CEO's office. At my light knock, Steven's familiar voice came from inside. "Come in." I walked to his desk, lifted my hips, and perched lightly on the edge. Steven's hands, previously sorting through documents, stilled. He looked up, fury simmering. "Maeve Shepard." His voice was calm, but I noticed the faint tremor in his fingertips. Steven fixed me with a piercing glare. "Not enough prison time? How dare you show your face before me?" I slid off the desk, lowering myself onto his lap. "Mr. Jones, the whole city answers to you now. Who would dare hire the daughter of your enemy for honest work?" I blew softly on his earlobe, swaying my hips lightly. His breathing instantly grew ragged. Seven years together had trained me into the perfect temptress, skilled at fulfilling his desires. Now, it was my greatest weapon. Steven narrowed his eyes, voice hoarse. "What do you want?" I giggled coyly. "Money, Steven. Since I'm selling myself anyway, I'd rather sell to someone who knows what he's doing." The words lit a fire in him. His gaze burned with fury, as if stabbed by a blade. Gripping my shoulders, he hauled me up. "Tell me—how many men have had you?"