Isabella Scott stirred softly.

Her eyes opened slowly, still heavy with sleep.

They focused on another pair of eyes staring intently back at her.

Her husband, Ethan Blackwood, had returned quietly.

The faint scent of alcohol lingered around him.

His kiss was demanding, leaving no room for refusal.

She had no choice but to yield.

A sudden panic tightened her chest.

She instinctively tried to pull away.

"Don't move." His voice was a low, captivating rumble.

It held a persuasive power that was difficult to defy.

Isabella’s body stiffened for a second.

She fought between pushing him back and giving in.

Today was special. It was their second anniversary.

She didn't want to ruin the celebration.

With a quiet sigh, she closed her eyes.

She let herself sink into his arms.

His strong cologne overpowered the smell of alcohol.

It wrapped around her, piercing straight to her heart.

Ethan’s gaze darkened with hunger as she surrendered.

His movements grew more urgent, less controlled.

Just as Isabella gathered her thoughts, she gasped softly.

"Please… be gentle," she whispered, her voice fragile.

She couldn't bring herself to say she was pregnant.

A sharp ringtone cut through the heated atmosphere.

It shattered the moment completely.

Ethan’s eyes, still burning with desire, flickered.

He glanced at the caller ID.

He rose and began dressing.

All traces of his earlier passion vanished.

"Are you going out?" Isabella asked, her voice laced with worry.

She tightened her hold on her nightgown.

"Yeah," he replied casually, as if avoiding explanation.

"But—"

"Go back to sleep," he interrupted smoothly.

His tone was soft but distant.

He leaned in, his lips brushing her forehead in a brief, tender kiss.

Then he walked out without looking back.

Isabella stared at the empty doorway.

Her heart sank slowly.

She told herself it must be a work emergency.

Understanding was key. Showing upset might push him further away.

She had loved Ethan for over ten years.

Becoming his wife felt like a miracle.

She couldn't ask for more.

With a sigh, she freshened up quickly and returned to bed.

Her hand rested gently on her stomach.

A hopeful smile touched her lips.

"Sweetie, Daddy didn't mean to leave us alone. Don't be mad at him, okay?"

Her phone buzzed suddenly with a news alert.

It startled her.

"Blackwood Enterprises CEO Spotted at Airport Late at Night, Picking Up Mystery Lover."

A photo accompanied the headline.

Ethan stood at the private terminal entrance.

He wore a black suit, his posture commanding.

His eyes held a softness she had never seen before.

Shock flashed across Isabella’s face.

Her heart pounded painfully, stealing her breath.

It took effort to steady herself.

Clutching a thin hope, she opened the article.

Her fingers trembled.

As feared, a familiar face filled the screen—Sophia Reed.

The woman Ethan could never forget was clearly back.

A cold dread spread through Isabella.

Deep sorrow embedded itself in her heart.

She clenched her teeth, forcing back her tears.

The memory of how their marriage began was too painful.

Two years ago, just as Sophia and Ethan were planning their future, Sophia vanished.

At that critical time, Ethan needed to secure his position as chairman.

He required a compliant wife.

Isabella, known for her unwavering devotion and from a faded family, was the perfect choice.

For two years, she played the docile wife.

She lived wrapped in unworthiness, as if her happiness was borrowed.

That illusion broke yesterday when she learned she was pregnant.

They had always been careful.

Except for one night last month.

Ethan came home drunk from a business dinner.

In his haze, they lost control.

That single mistake led to her pregnancy.

Now, she agonized over how to tell him.

She feared he would demand an abortion.

She knew she wasn't the woman he loved.

While lost in anxious thought, Ethan’s voice echoed from the study.

Was he home already?

She rose, pulling a light coat around her shoulders.

She moved toward the study.

As she neared the door, she heard playful tones.

It was Lucas Grant, Ethan’s friend.

"Did you really spend the whole night with Sophia?"

Isabella’s heart dropped.

So it was true. Ethan had been with Sophia.

"Mm-hmm," Ethan responded, his voice devoid of emotion.

"What about Isabella then? After two years of marriage, you can't say she means nothing." Lucas’s voice softened with concern. "She's incredible. If you don't appreciate her, someone else will. You'll regret it."

"I only feel a slight guilt," Ethan retorted coldly. "If you like her so much, I can play matchmaker. Now, shouldn't you get back to work? Go on."

Guilt? That was all he felt for her?

The stark realization hit Isabella.

A single tear traced down her cheek.

Her hand fell from the doorknob, trembling.

It was painfully clear. He had never loved her.

In Ethan’s heart, she was just a trivial thing he could pass to someone else.

A shiver of desolation ran through her.

She turned quickly and fled into the garden.

Her heart raced wildly.

She huddled down, burying her face in her knees.

Tears blurred her vision.

Memories flooded back.

The day she first met Ethan, ten years ago.

He was charm and vitality personified.

Born into privilege, he effortlessly stole every girl's heart at school.

Isabella, newly vulnerable from her family's downfall, was an easy target for ridicule.

Ethan stepped in like a guardian.

His words were shields, commanding others to back down.

In those moments, he was her savior.

Her angel.