Ruthless

53

The night was quiet, the only sound being the steady hum of the engine as we drove along the desolate roads. My eyes were fixed on the indistinct shapes outside, straining until they began to water. Knowing the journey ahead was long, I decided to close my eyes and try to rest.

I was here because some paperwork required Edward's wife's signature; my signature. We had completed it by noon, but an unexpected matter demanded Edward's attention, delaying our return.

Just as I was about to drift off, something crossed my head, jolting me awake with a pang of anxiety. I glanced over at Edward, who remained fully focused on the road. One hand gripped the steering wheel, while the other rubbed thoughtfully at his jaw.

My gaze lingered on his lips, noticing how he bit the corner of his lower lip. Without meaning to, my eyes drifted lower, catching a glimpse of his chest where his shirt parted slightly making his muscular milky skin visible.

Edward was mesmerizing, like a rare piece of art. It was no surprise he was often called the most handsome man alive.

But then, reality hit me, and with it, a wave of self-loathing. How could I feel drawn to him? His looks meant nothing—he was a monster who trafficked underage girls, forcing the orphans under his care into a life of unspeakable horror.

The fact his own mother hadn't trusted him speaks a volume about what kind of person he must be. No wonder she included that clause in her will before she died. Yes, Elizabeth was his stepsister, and Elisa, his stepmother.

From what I know, Edward also harbored deep resentment towards his biological mother. And speaking about the clause in her will it demanded that he marry on that very day, with his child from the marriage would become the sole heir to all her property. If he fails, everything will be given to charity.

"Are you going to keep staring at me, or speak?" His sudden words snapped me out of my trance.

I quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. Why did I have to embarrass myself like that?

"Faith wanted ice cream—I forgot," I muttered, pausing briefly. "She won't be happy if we come back empty-handed." My eyes stood glued to the passing scenario outside the window.

Even as I was speaking, I could already imagine her voice in my head, scolding me.

I understand that pregnancy hormones can make women moody, but Faith seems to go out of her way to make things difficult for me. She still resents me for marrying Edward, despite the fact that we've all agreed I'll divorce him and leave once our baby is born.

Sometimes I want to forget she's carrying my child and just knock some sense into her, but I can't risk stressing her out—it might affect the pregnancy. We all went through so much to get here.

After two failed attempts, I'd nearly given up hope, but the third time worked, and now she's six months pregnant with twins—a boy and a girl.

We're just enduring each other at this point, with no chance of ever liking one another.

Coming back, Edward didn't respond, and I didn't push him. I kept my focus on the dimly visible trees passing by in the darkness. We had left the city and were now in an area surrounded by nothing but trees—no chance to stop for anything.

"She already got it," he finally said. Of course, he was there when Faith was crying, completely indecisive of which flavor she wanted to have.

Edward has been by Faith's side throughout her pregnancy, showing just how much he cares about the baby. What I can't figure out is whether his concern is genuine, or if it's all about the power that comes with the baby's birth.