Chapter 1

After Azazel’s funeral, I discovered I was pregnant. For this child’s sake, I buried my grief deep inside, terrified my emotions might harm the baby. But conception had always been difficult with Azazel’s low sperm count, making this pregnancy especially precarious. Every day brought hormone injections to prevent miscarriage. My morning sickness was so severe I nearly passed out multiple times. In just over a month, I’d lost nearly 45 pounds. I felt half-dead most days.

Eventually, Richard and Christine couldn’t bear watching me suffer. “Sylvia, please consider terminating the pregnancy,” Christine suggested gently. “Try to move forward without Azazel.” I refused every time. How could I let go of Azazel’s child when he’d been so good to me?

The truth is, I wasn’t originally engaged to Azazel, but to his brother Alaric. Before the wedding, I was kidnapped and assaulted for three horrific days. Afterward, Alaric called off our engagement, claiming I was “tainted,” and quickly married Rebecca instead.

It was Azazel who rescued me from my captors. He suffered multiple stab wounds during the rescue but still held me protectively. Later, he knelt before my father, declaring he’d loved me from afar and wanted to marry me. Everyone said he adored me beyond reason. Under his gentle care, I slowly healed from my trauma. Our happiness lasted only three years before a car accident took him from me. My world collapsed. I contemplated following him into death.

This baby became my only reason to live—Azazel’s only remaining blood. I was determined to protect this pregnancy with my life if necessary. Seeing my determination, my in-laws stopped pressuring me. But the next day at lunch, they suggested something unexpected: that Alaric should marry me to maintain both family lines and care for me and my unborn child.

Before I could refuse, Rebecca exploded. She slapped me hard across the face, screaming that I was shameless. Already fragile, she worked herself into such a state that she fainted before I could explain. Alaric’s brow furrowed with disapproval as he shot me a cold glance. Then he tenderly gathered Rebecca in his arms and carried her away.