Chapter 1

Which is more lethal―a high fever while seven months pregnant, or a meat locker set to thirty below?

When he locked me in that freezer for the sake of that woman, the poisoned vows in my digital recorder were hissing like a snake.

"Is a termination even considered a surgery?"

"Your prenatal report will show the fetus is deformed."

"This is the only Lockwood heir. Even if it dies, I will have it preserved as a specimen."

I touched my bleeding thigh and smiled.

The 178 fertility shots I endured in my abdomen, the itchy scars on my collarbone from years of purging for his business dinners―it turns out they were all waiting for this day.

"Lucian Lockwood, do you even know that you are sterile?"

When the sapphire cufflink on his chest fell into the flames, and when white roses bloomed on the tombstone, I finally understood my father's words.

"Some debts must be collected using marriage as the bait and a life as the price."

01

On a summer night during my seventh month of pregnancy, the evening wind slammed into the glass walls with a hundred-degree heat.

I burst into Lucian's office with an urgent file, only to find the central air conditioning puffing out warm air at eighty-five degrees.

My silk shirt clung to my back, and my pregnant belly felt heavy enough to snap my spine. I tugged at my collar, gasping for air. "Why isn't the cooling on?"

The new assistant, Vivienne, suddenly clutched her stomach, her face turning pale as she winced.

"Ms. Sutton, I have a cold constitution. The doctor said I shouldn't be exposed to cold drafts…"

My fingertips touched the desk. It was so hot it felt numb.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the asphalt was practically melting, yet she was wrapped in a knit cardigan.

"Move." I walked straight toward the temperature control panel. Just as I was about to hit the cooling button, my wrist was grabbed.

"Sutton!" Vivienne's eyes turned red instantly, tears falling like broken pearls. "I just had a procedure yesterday. I really can't handle the cold…"

I shook off her hand and let out a cold laugh. "Is a forced termination even considered a surgery?"

Last Wednesday at two in the morning, I saw her with my own eyes in a VIP lounge, drinking and smoking. Her social media post of an iced cocktail was still captioned with "a little tipsy for a good night's sleep."

Amid the hum of the air conditioner starting up, Vivienne's crying suddenly spiked, sounding like nails scraping against glass.

I stared at her trembling shoulders. I suddenly remembered three days ago in the breakroom when the cleaning lady said she saw Vivienne stirring something into my restorative broth.

That night at ten, Lucian kicked open the bedroom door, reeking of alcohol.

The light from the crystal chandelier reflected in his bloodshot eyes like poisoned icicles.

"Sutton, because of those seventeen minutes of cold air you forced on her, Vivienne is in the emergency room with a massive hemorrhage!"

He pinched my chin, his grip so strong it felt like he might crush my jaw. "Can you really not tolerate her existence?"

I touched the back of my neck, which was burning. The thermometer read 101.7 degrees. The fetal movement was getting weaker, like a small hand feebly tapping.

"Lucian, your wife has a fever of nearly 102. If you keep stifling me, the baby will lose oxygen. Why don't you send me to the hospital to join her?"

He suddenly let go, his knuckles turning white as he rubbed his brow. "I was just… panicked."

When I turned to go to the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of his phone screen lighting up. A message from Vivienne read:

"Lucian, she's definitely faking it. Don't believe her."

At three in the morning, I woke up in a bone-chilling cold.

Before me were stainless steel shelves of pale, frozen meat. I was wearing nothing but a silk nightgown.

The thermometer in the cold storage pointed to thirty below. My breath instantly turned into an icy mist.

Through the frosted glass door, I could see Lucian wrapping a mink shawl around Vivienne's shoulders.

"Didn't you say you were hot?" His voice came through the ice, laced with a cruel smirk. "I'm letting you cool off properly."

Vivienne leaned into his arms, her voice sounding sweet and fragile.

"Lucian, isn't this too harsh? Sutton is still pregnant…"

Yet, her fingers were tracing circles on his chest, the rhinestones on her nails flashing blindingly.

I pulled out the recording pen hidden under my pillow. When I pressed play, Vivienne's voice from the breakroom yesterday played clearly.

"Don't worry, Mr. Lockwood. I've already bribed the head nurse. I'll make sure there's a 'small issue' with Sutton's prenatal report. Then you can say her health is failing and the company shares need to be transferred to your name for safekeeping…"

The laughter outside the glass door stopped abruptly.

I watched their suddenly stiff silhouettes and slowly curled my lips into a smile.

The private investigator I hired three months ago didn't let me down. The luxury beach villa Lucian bought for Vivienne using company funds was actually registered in my mother's name.

Before my mother passed away, she had specifically placed that deed in my father's private safe.