Chapter 1

On our wedding night, the air in the lavish bedroom of our Nashville estate felt heavy. Ethan Scott, my new husband, had always been emotionally distant, but tonight he was different.

He pulled me close, his hands tracing my back with an unfamiliar passion.

"Jocelyn," he whispered, his voice rough against my ear, "let's start our family tonight. I want a child with you. A son."

His words were everything I had dreamed of for years. I was Jocelyn Fuller, from a family whose name was etched into the very soul of country music, and I had loved this man, this brilliant, rising producer, for a decade.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, my heart soaring. This was it. The beginning of our shared dream.

"Yes, Ethan," I breathed, "Yes."

I believed him. I embraced the moment, giving him everything I was, convinced he was finally reciprocating the love I held for him.

Weeks later, a wave of nausea sent me to the doctor. The ultrasound technician smiled.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Scott. It's twins."

Twins. My joy was so immense it felt like it would burst from my chest. I clutched the ultrasound photos, my hands trembling. I had to tell Ethan.

I drove straight to the famous Music Row recording studio where he worked, my heart pounding with excitement. I was going to be a mother. We were going to be parents.

I found his usual control room, but the door was slightly ajar. I heard laughter from inside, loud and cruel. I paused, my hand on the doorknob.

"I can't believe she fell for it," a voice slurred. It was Mark, Ethan's band manager.

Then I heard her voice, Sabrina's, the pop starlet Ethan called his "protégé." It was sharp and mocking.

"I told you guys. I bet Ethan a hundred thousand dollars that you couldn't get his little virgin bride pregnant on their wedding night."

A cold dread washed over me. I stood frozen, my hand still on the door.

Then, Ethan's voice, my husband's voice, cut through the laughter, casual and cold.

"Relax, Sabrina. It was easy. A little something in her champagne, and she was out. She didn't know the difference."

The room erupted in laughter again.

"She kept whispering my name," Ethan continued, his tone dripping with contempt. "Begging me to 'love her.' She was so desperate to please, trying so hard to be wild for me. The good girl letting loose."

My stomach churned. The ultrasound photos in my hand felt like burning coals.

"The best part is, we got the whole thing on camera," Ethan said. "Five of you. She'll never know whose it is. Or who they are."

My body started to shake uncontrollably. My chest felt tight, like a band was squeezing the air from my lungs. The world tilted, the sounds from the room blurring into a roaring in my ears. I couldn't breathe.

The door swung open. Sabrina stood there, a smug, triumphant smile on her face. She had seen me.

"Oh, Jocelyn," she said, her voice sickly sweet. "Come on in. We were just talking about you."

I stumbled back, my mind a whirlwind of horror and disbelief.

Ethan and his friends turned to look at me, their faces a mixture of shock and amusement.

"What's wrong, darling?" Ethan asked, his voice laced with false concern. He took a step toward me.

"You drugged me," I whispered, the words catching in my throat.

He scoffed. "It was a locker room joke, Jocelyn. Don't be so dramatic."

One of his friends, a sound engineer named Kevin, grabbed my arm. "Hey, what's that you've got there?" He snatched the ultrasound photos from my hand.

"Twins!" he shouted, holding them up for everyone to see. "Looks like the bet's off, Sabrina. Or maybe we all get a piece of the prize."

The room filled with jeers and laughter. I tore my arm from Kevin's grasp and ran.

I fled back to our house, the house that was supposed to be our home. I thought about the ten years I had loved him, the way I had defended his ambition and his coldness to my family. I had believed it was all for our future.

I realized the champagne he' d handed me, the one he said was a special vintage just for us, was the tool of my violation. He hadn't wanted to start a family. He had used me in a sick game.

Inside the bedroom, I searched frantically, my hands tearing at the decor. I found it. A tiny black lens hidden in the smoke detector above our bed. I ripped it from the ceiling and smashed it against the floor. I found another in a clock on the nightstand and threw it against the wall, shattering it into a hundred pieces.

I sank to the floor, waves of self-loathing washing over me. I felt dirty, defiled, not by strangers, but by the man I had given my heart to.

The front door opened and slammed shut. Ethan was home.

He found me on the floor amidst the wreckage. He knelt, his face a mask of concern.

"Jocelyn, what happened? Are you okay? The cameras were for security, baby. This is a big house."

He was still lying. He was trying to manipulate me, even now.

His eyes fell on the single ultrasound photo that had fallen from my pocket. He picked it up.

"Twins," he said, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Impressive. I guess we'll need a paternity test to see who the lucky fathers are."

My love for him died in that moment. It wasn't a slow fade; it was a sudden, violent death. In its place, a cold, hard clarity settled in my soul. I looked at the man kneeling before me and saw nothing but a monster.

"Don't worry," he said, stroking my hair as if I were a frightened pet. "We'll sort this out. I'll make an appointment for you tomorrow."

I knew then that my nightmare was only just beginning.

---