Chapter 4

Evelyn POV:

"Oh, spare me the romantic drivel, Salinas!" Belen sneered, her carefully constructed poise shattering. "You talk about 'true affection' while Dedric and I are building a real future. A future with the first heir to the consortium!"

Her hand moved from her abdomen to Dedric's arm, clutching it tightly, as if to prove her claim. Her obsession with having a child, with producing the heir, was palpable. In my past life, she had struggled with infertility, a secret shame that fueled her bitterness. This time, she was clearly desperate to prove her worth, to secure her place. She had even moved in with Dedric immediately after I "gave" him to her, rushing headlong into a future built on a lie.

Dedric's eyes, calculating as ever, lingered on Belen's abdomen. He didn't care about love. He cared about legacy, about securing his position as the next Chairman. Belen was merely the most convenient, and seemingly most fertile, path to that goal. They were two ambitious, self-serving individuals, perfectly matched in their transactional desires.

"And what a future that will be," I finally said, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on my lips. "One built on a very shaky foundation, wouldn't you agree, Dedric?"

Dedric's smirk vanished. Belen's eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion in them. They both knew the truth of their hurried alliance, but neither dared to voice it. My words were a subtle jab, a reminder of the instability lurking beneath their facade.

I turned and walked away, Ingram's comforting presence a silent anchor beside me. We left Belen fuming, Dedric's face a mask of annoyance.

"She always has to have the last word," I heard Belen hiss behind us, her voice vibrating with frustrated fury. "But it won't matter. Soon, Dedric and I will have children, and then everyone will see."

I didn't dignify it with a response. Belen was so focused on external validation, on superficial triumphs. She couldn't see the deeper currents, the real power at play. She thought I had given up Dedric because I was defeated. She couldn't fathom that I had simply chosen a different path, a path not paved with power or status, but with authenticity. True strength, I had learned, was not in what you accumulated, but in who you were.

Later that evening, after a simple, intimate ceremony where Ingram and I exchanged quiet vows, I found myself in our new home, a modest but elegant house nestled on the outskirts of the Salinas ancestral lands.

Ingram was in the adjoining room, preparing for bed. I watched him through the open doorway as he shed his clothes, a quiet curiosity stirring within me. His back was to me, and I saw the subtle ripple of muscles beneath his skin. Then he turned, and I froze.

Across his chest, curving up from his navel, were faint, intricate patterns, like swirling constellations etched into his skin. They shimmered with a faint, almost imperceptible, golden light. Not a tattoo, but something organic, inherent. They were the markings of his "half-beast" lineage, the subtle, magical traits that set his family apart. And they were beautiful. More than beautiful. They were mesmerizing.

I must have gasped, a small, involuntary sound. Ingram flinched, his amber eyes wide with alarm. He quickly wrapped a blanket around himself, his face flushing.

"Evelyn?" he asked, his voice low, tinged with a raw vulnerability. "Are you... are you alright? I understand if this is... too much."

He thought I was repulsed. He was used to being seen as an oddity, his lineage a reason for scorn, not wonder.

"No!" I rushed to him, reaching out to touch his arm. "Ingram, no. It's not too much. It's... beautiful. Truly."

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine, trying to find any hint of deceit. When he found none, a wave of relief washed over him.

"I just... I've never seen anything like it," I admitted, my voice a little breathless. "It's magnificent."

His lips curved into a shy, hesitant smile, a blush deepening on his cheeks. He still looked slightly uncomfortable, but there was a new light in his eyes.

I stepped closer, emboldened. My hand reached out, tracing the faint, shimmering patterns on his chest. His skin was warm beneath my touch, radiating a subtle energy. He trembled slightly, but didn't pull away.

His hands, hesitant at first, found my waist, pulling me gently against him. His breath hitched as his lips met mine, tentatively at first, then with a slow, building intensity. There was no pretense in his kiss, no calculation, just a raw, honest desire that ignited something deep within me.

This was so different from Dedric's kisses, which were always about possession, about asserting dominance. Ingram's kiss was an invitation, a surrender.

The night was long, filled with a passion I had never known. Ingram was attentive, gentle, yet fiercely hungry. He explored my body with a reverence and curiosity that brought me to life in ways Dedric never could. Dedric had seen my body as a tool. Ingram saw it as a temple.

He was seemingly tireless, his gentle persistence a stark contrast to Dedric's often perfunctory, obligation-driven encounters.

"Ingram," I gasped at one point, laughing softly as he kissed my neck, "Please, I'm going to expire."

He pulled back, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Only if you want me to stop," he whispered, his voice husky.

I just shook my head, pulling him closer. This was a new kind of happiness. One I hadn't dared to dream of.