He hadn't slept in three nights.
Roman Ashborne stood by the massive window of the east wing, staring down into the silent garden below, where moonlight painted the earth in silver and ice. His reflection stared back at him — sharp jaw, bloodless lips, storm-colored eyes. Unblinking.
Behind him, in the grand bed she now occupied, she lay still.
Serene.
The woman he'd stolen, rewritten, drugged, married, and now—impregnated.
He had done everything right. Every dose calculated. Every step rehearsed. He had shattered her mind gently, like glass under silk, and built her again with gold-coated lies. Her smiles were his. Her laughter was rehearsed. Her obedience had become a melody he orchestrated with perfect precision.
But he had made a mistake.
A costly, dangerous mistake.
The moment her eyes had widened back at that place—when she saw Idris, bruised and bloody, bound to the chair—something had cracked in her. Something ancient. Something real.
He'd only meant to test her. See how deep the memories were buried. See how far gone the real Serene was.
But she had collapsed before the gun fired.
Like her soul had seen it all.
And now she was pregnant.
Roman turned slowly from the window, his gaze moving across the room like a slow storm.
She was still unconscious.
But she wasn't peaceful. Not tonight.
Even in sleep, her face was tense. Her body curled into itself, one hand resting protectively over her stomach. His child. The very seed he'd fought the world to plant. The victory he'd longed for in secret, through every scream, every tear, every silent night she'd spent chained and locked away.
And yet now…
The doctor's voice still echoed in his skull.
> "The shock nearly killed them both. You shouldn't have pushed her that far, Roman."
He had gritted his teeth.
> "I needed to know. I had to know."
But the man hadn't backed down.
> "You were lucky this time. But one more trauma like that and you might lose everything."
Everything.
The word lingered like rot in his chest.
Roman knelt beside the bed slowly. He didn't touch her, not yet. Just watched her. Studied the faint flicker in her lashes, the way her throat moved when she swallowed in her sleep, the light sheen of sweat on her brow.
She's different.
His fingers curled into the sheets.
Her aura had shifted. The mask was still there—sweet, docile, obedient—but behind it… something breathed. Something remembered.
She was his. He had paid the price in blood. He had buried the old Serene six feet under and replaced her with a doll made of dreams and delusions.
So why did he feel her slipping?
And why did he hate the thought of losing that fire again?
He stood suddenly, pacing the room in slow, deadly steps. His mind replayed everything—her screams from months ago, the venom in her voice when she first fought him, the soft smile she wore now that wasn't real.
Was this punishment?
For the pills he forcefully flushed from her body?
For the chains?
For the memory wiping?
He clenched his fists.
He had done it all for them. For their family. For the perfect life he was promised but denied. Roman wasn't cruel—he was desperate. He was building a future. One they owed him.
And now she was pregnant.
The thought made his chest tighten.
She was carrying him.
It wasn't just a win. It was everything.
He turned again, stepping toward the bed. This time he knelt directly beside her and brushed the damp curls from her face with a gentleness he hadn't earned.
"You're going to stay," he whispered, more to himself than her. "This time, Serene… you're not going anywhere."
A soft knock broke the silence.
He rose and opened the door slightly. One of the maids stood there, wide-eyed. "Sir, she moved. Her fingers twitched."
Roman's stomach tightened. He nodded. "Call for the kitchen to prepare her something light. And don't speak to her. At all. Do you understand me?"
The girl nodded and disappeared.
Roman shut the door and exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he turned back, he saw it—just a flicker.
Her eyes.
Open. Glazed. Confused.
But open.
"Serene," he said softly.
Her gaze met his.
For a breathless second, the air froze.
And then—
She blinked, her brows pinching. "Where…?"
Her voice was hoarse. Weak.
Roman stepped forward with a mask he had worn a thousand times. Loving husband. Caring protector.
"You fainted, angel. You've been resting for a few days. But you're safe now."
Her eyes fluttered closed again, her lips barely parting. He leaned closer to hear her.
"I saw…"
"You saw a nightmare," he cut in quickly, firmly. "That's all. Just a dream. Nothing more."
Her body tensed beneath the blankets. Just a twitch. A spark. A warning.
Roman forced a smile and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Rest. I'll be here when you wake."
He stood and left the room, closing the door behind him as the shadows swallowed his guilt.
But deep inside, Roman knew—
He hadn't erased her completely.
And that meant he would have to act fast.
Before the real Serene came back for what was left of herself.
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