The rain in Seattle didn’t wash things clean; it only made the grime on the sidewalk slicker, a treacherous path for anyone foolish enough to run in heels. But Emily Reed didn’t care about the rain, or the cold seeping into her threadbare coat, or the fact that she was twenty minutes late to meet the man who held her heart in his manicured hands.
She cared about the small white stick tucked safely inside her purse.
Two pink lines.
A smile tugged at her lips, fighting against the biting wind. For three years, she had been the invisible girl on Ryan Evans’s arm. The human girl. The weak link. In a world dominated by powerful bloodlines and old money, Emily was a nobody. She was an orphan with no connections, working as a junior archivist in the basement of Evans Enterprises.
But Ryan had chosen her. The billionaire CEO, the man whose face graced the cover of Forbes and whose presence commanded silence in boardrooms, had chosen her.
"He loves me," she whispered to the storm, needing to hear it aloud. "And now... we’re going to be a family."
She reached the towering glass monolith of Evans Tower. The security guard, a burly man named Marcus who usually greeted her with a warm nod, was absent. In his place stood a stranger with cold, dark eyes who barely glanced at her ID badge before waving her through.
Emily brushed off the unease settling in her gut. Tonight was special. It was their three-year anniversary. Ryan had told her to come up to the penthouse suite, the private place he rarely invited anyone into. He had hinted at a surprise. A ring, perhaps?
Her heart fluttered as the golden elevator doors slid shut. She watched the numbers climb, her hand instinctively going to her flat stomach. She wasn't just a poor human girl anymore. She was the mother of a billionaire’s heir. Surely, that would bridge the gap between their worlds. Surely, his family would have to accept her now.
The elevator dinged softly, opening directly into the penthouse foyer.
Emily stepped out, expecting soft jazz, maybe the scent of the expensive amber candles Ryan loved. Instead, the air was thick with a heavy, musk-like scent. It was overwhelming, primal, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
"Ryan?" she called out softly.
She walked across the marble floor, her wet sneakers squeaking slightly. She winced at the sound, bending down to toe them off. As she straightened, her eyes caught a splash of color on the pristine white rug near the living room archway.
A red dress.
Not just any dress. It was silk, designer, and shredded at the seams as if it had been torn off in a frenzy.
Emily’s breath hitched. A cold, leaden weight dropped into her stomach, extinguishing the warmth of her earlier excitement. She took a step forward, her legs feeling like they were moving through water.
Don’t look. Turn around. Leave.
But she couldn’t. She had to know.
She moved toward the master bedroom. The double doors were ajar, and voices drifted out. "Ryan, you’re insatiable," a woman’s voice purred. It was a voice Emily recognized instantly. Claire Johnson. The daughter of a rival billionaire, a woman who walked with the grace of a panther and had made it her life’s mission to remind Emily of her inferiority.
"Only for you, Claire," Ryan’s voice replied
"You know how long I’ve waited to claim a real mate."
Real mate.
The words hung in the air, sharp and severing.
Emily pushed the door open.
The scene before her was like a tableau of her worst nightmares. The sheets of the massive king-sized bed were tangled around two bodies. Ryan, her Ryan, was hovering over Claire, his back muscles rippling in the dim light. But there was something wrong; shadows seemed to cling to him, his canines looked too sharp, his eyes glowing a faint, eerie amber.
Claire saw her first.
The woman didn’t scream or cover herself. She simply smiled, a cruel, triumphant curving of red lips. She tapped Ryan on the shoulder, her nails sharp as claws. "Darling. We have an audience."
Ryan froze. He turned slowly, his glowing eyes landing on Emily. For a second, he looked monstrous. Then he blinked, the glow fading, replaced by a mask of cold indifference.