Chapter 1
Maureen Ramirez gripped the pregnancy test report tightly with her bony fingers, the bold words “Not Pregnant” glar- ing up at her.
“You’ve been married for three years now. How come you’re still not pregnant?
“Could you possibly be more useless? If you don’t get pregnant soon, the Suttons will kick you out. Our whole family is counting on them!”
In a nice outfit and sharp high heels, her mother, Noelle Davey, lashed out at her, disappointment etched on her face.
Maureen’s eyes were empty. Her lips parted, but all the words stuck in her throat.
In the end, all she managed was a weak whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need your apology. I want you to give Geoffrey an heir. Understand?”
Her request brought a lump to Maureen’s throat.
Geoffrey Sutton, her husband of three years, had never once touched her.
How could she possibly be pregnant?
Her weak, timid demeanor irritated Noelle further.
After a moment of silence, she spat, “If you really aren’t up for it, get Geoffrey a side piece.
“Then he’ll owe you one.”
Maureen froze, staring after her mother’s retreating figure, her eyes widening in disbelief.
A chill cut through her chest, colder than the night air.
***
In the taxi ride home, Noelle’s suggestion echoed in Maureen’s mind.
Just then, the ringing in her ears began again.
She knew her condition was getting worse.
Right then, her phone buzzed with a message from Geoffrey: Not coming home tonight.
The same words he’d sent for three years straight.
In the past three years, Geoffrey never spent the night at home, not to mention touching Maureen.
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Till today, she still remembered vividly what he had said on their wedding night.
“Since your family dared to trick me into this marriage, prepare to die alone.”
He was a man of his word indeed.
Three years ago, they entered an arranged marriage based on an agreement between their families.
It was essentially a business transaction, with terms that benefited both sides.
But on their wedding day, the Ramirez family suddenly went back on their word and transferred all their assets, in- cluding the hundreds of millions Geoffrey had given Maureen.
Recalling the past, Maureen lowered her eyes. As usual, she replied to Geoffrey, “Alright.”
Before she realized it, she had crumpled the test report into a ball.
When she got home, she tossed it into the trash can.
Every month around this time, exhaustion crushed her.
She didn’t bother with dinner. Leaning against the sofa, she drifted in and out of a fitful sleep.
Her ears were always ringing.
It was another thing Geoffrey hated about her–her weak hearing. In the eyes of the rich, it was nothing less than a dis- ability.
Naturally, he wouldn’t allow her to get pregnant with his baby.
The clock on the wall emitted a few dull, heavy sounds.
Maureen looked up, only to find it was 5:00 a.m.
Geoffrey would be back in an hour.
Before she knew it, she had spent the night on the sofa.
Maureen got up and hurried into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for Geoffrey, dreading being so much as a second
late.
Geoffrey, a meticulous man, was exceptionally harsh about punctuality, especially when it came to those around him.
At 6:00 a.m. sharp, he stepped into the living room.
His impeccably tailored suit accentuated his tall, slender figure, refined demeanor, and handsome, masculine features.
But all Maureen felt was his coldness and detachment.
He walked past her without a glance, his eyes on the breakfast. “Are you my wife or my maid?”
In the past three years, she had done the same things every day–making him breakfast, wearing the same light gray
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clothes, replying to him with the exact same word.
Honestly?
If not for the arranged marriage and the Ramirezs‘ trap, he’d have never married such an unattractive, dull woman.
A maid?