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She pressed her trembling fingers to her temples, pacing the narrow space.

“I can’t keep doing this…” she whispered. But then Leila’s face—tear-streaked, begging for ice cream—flashed before her eyes.

Her hand clenched into a fist.

If it means saving my daughter from George’s cruelty… I have to.

Slowly, an idea formed.

Nico Bellamy had a habit—every morning, he left his mug half-finished in the study when business calls dragged him away. Sometimes, he didn’t return for hours.

A mug. A strand of hair on the back of his chair. Even a tissue discarded in haste. Any of it would hold what George wanted.

Dr. Smith’s lips trembled as she whispered to herself, “I’ll take it… something small. He won’t notice. And once I have it…” She trailed off, tears welling. “Then maybe—maybe George will stop.”

Her hands shook as she began arranging her medical bag, slipping in a sterile swab and a small plastic vial. Her heart pounded with each click of the zipper, as if warning her of the risk.


Red closed her laptop with a satisfied sigh, stretching her arms above her head.

Her long hair spilled down her shoulders as she leaned back into the couch, finally ready to rest.

That was when she felt warm breath brushing her ear, a hand lazily sliding across her waist.

“Done being a genius, Mrs. Bellamy?” Nico’s deep voice teased, laced with that smug playfulness he knew would get under her skin.

Red rolled her eyes, swatting his hand away, though her lips twitched with a reluctant smile. “Nico, can’t you see I’ve been working? Unlike somebody, I actually use my brain.”

“Oh, I know you do,” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips grazing the curve of her neck. “That’s why I married you. My genius wife who pretends she doesn’t like when I annoy her.”

She tried to glare, but his fingers had already found the ticklish spot at her side, making her squirm. “Nico! Stop it!”

He only chuckled, sliding onto the couch beside her, caging her in with his arm. His eyes glittered mischievously as he whispered, “What will you do if I don’t?”

Red tilted her chin up, eyes narrowing, lips curling into a playful smirk.
“What will you do, hmm?” she purred, her tone daring him.

Nico’s gaze darkened instantly, his arm tightening around her waist as his other hand slid dangerously slow along her thigh.

“I’ll show you exactly what happens when you challenge me, Mrs. Bellamy,” he teased, his lips brushing against hers but never quite giving in.

Her breath hitched, but instead of giving him the satisfaction, Red shifted suddenly—pressing her palm against his chest and leaning close to whisper something sultry in his ear.

The effect was immediate; Nico’s composure cracked, his jaw tightening, his body responding in ways he couldn’t mask.

“Mm-mm,” she teased, biting her lip as her fingers ghosted down, just enough to drive him crazy but not enough to give in. “Look at you, Mr. Bellamy… completely undone. And I haven’t even tried yet.”

“Red…” Nico growled, his voice thick, desperate, and warning all at once.

But just when he thought she’d surrender, she shoved him back against the couch with a cheeky laugh, slipping away from his grip.

“Now, now,” she grinned, wagging a finger at him. “Get off me, Mr. Bellamy. Let me do some digging.” She tapped her laptop meaningfully, still smirking. “Unlike you, I have work to finish.”

Nico’s head fell back against the couch, a groan escaping his throat.

“You’re evil,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, his desire far from hidden.

“And you love it,” Red winked before opening her laptop again, leaving him completely wrecked and glaring at her with the kind of hunger that promised payback later.

He stood up and went to lay sprawled across the massive bed, one arm behind his head, the other tapping restlessly against his chest.

His eyes kept darting toward the work table expecting Red to come in, flash him that wicked smile, and whisper, “Come here, Mr. Bellamy…”

But nothing.

He groaned dramatically, rolling onto his side like a sulky child. “Red…” he called out, his voice dragging. “I can’t sleep.”

From the work table came the faint sound of her typing on her laptop, completely ignoring him.

“Red, please,” he tried again, flopping onto his stomach, kicking the sheets like a restless boy. “Don’t leave me here suffering alone.”

Silence.

He grabbed a pillow, buried his face in it, then peeked out like a lovesick puppy. “All I want is for my genius wife to tell me, ‘Come here.’ Just once.”

Still, no response.

He groaned louder, tossing and turning, finally sitting up against the headboard, arms folded like he was pouting. His deep voice lowered into a mutter meant only for himself. “This woman will be the death of me.”

Meanwhile, Red smirked from her desk, fully aware of his antics—but determined to let him stew.

Nico sighed, finally throwing off the covers. If Red wanted to punish him with silence, fine—but he wasn’t going to suffer alone. He slipped on his pajama top, ruffled his hair, and padded down the hall.

A soft glow spilled from Noah’s room, and when Nico peeked in, he saw his mother just finishing up the bedtime story. Noah snuggled beneath his blanket, eyes bright and heavy all at once.

“Daddy!” Noah beamed the moment he spotted him.

“Hey, champ.” Nico’s entire face softened as he stepped in, kissing his son’s forehead. He slid onto the bed beside him, stretching out as if he belonged there. “Daddy’s here now. You know what?”

“What?” Noah whispered, grinning.

“Your mom likes punishing me,” Nico said in a conspiratorial tone, puffing his cheeks out in mock sulkiness. “She’s ignoring me right now. Can you believe that?”

Noah giggled, his small hands covering his mouth. “Mommy punishes you?”

“Yes!” Nico put a hand dramatically over his heart. “And your Daddy is suffering. Can you imagine?”

Noah laughed so hard his little body shook, then wrapped his arms around Nico’s neck. “Poor Daddy,” he teased in the same tone his mom usually used.

“Exactly,” Nico chuckled, tickling his son until the room was filled with squeals. Then he tucked Noah in tighter, kissing his cheek again. “But Daddy always wins in the end. Don’t forget that.”

“Mm-hmm,” Noah hummed sleepily, snuggling into his pillow.

Nico brushed a hand over his son’s hair, his chest warm.

Just outside Noah’s door, Dr. Smith lingered in the shadows, the faint crack of light spilling from the boy’s room brushing against her shoes.

She tilted her head slightly, listening to the laughter inside—Nico’s low rumble, Noah’s soft giggles. The warmth of their bond seeped through the doorway like honey, and for a second, her chest twisted.

But then George’s voice echoed in her skull.

“I don’t care how you’ll get it… just get it.”

Her eyes sharpened, scanning the hallway. The folded laundry basket left by a maid. The half-open door of the study. The glass of water Nico had abandoned earlier, still resting on the console table.

“Mmmh,” she hummed under her breath, lips curving into a thin smile. “This is a perfect time to get his DNA.”

She glanced around again—no staff, no Mrs. Bellamy, no one to notice.

Her fingers tightened on the edge of her medical bag as she slowly, silently stepped toward the glass.