Chapter 3 I've Got To Keep Him Hooked

Mary seemed more than satisfied with Lilliana.

Family background had never mattered much to her, but the woman carrying her future great-grandchildren had to be steady and unyielding.

A timid woman would have been a bitter disappointment.

Thankfully, Lilliana carried herself with quiet grace and an effortless confidence that belied her humble origins.

Before long, a servant appeared to guide Lilliana to a guest room.

Once the door clicked shut, Lilliana stood still, letting her gaze sweep over the room that stirred faint echoes of the past.

By coincidence, the television was tuned to a preview for the Dixon family's upcoming auction.

Her eyes locked onto the familiar collection of antiques on the screen. Her fingers curled tight against her palm, nails biting into skin as if to keep herself anchored.

Suddenly, the acrid memory of a fire surged back-the crackle of burning wood, the sting of smoke, and the choking scent of cremains filling her lungs.

In her previous life, she had spent years in the dark, never knowing the Dixon family had stolen her mother's belongings. She only learned the truth from Alina when she was already staring death in the face.

This time, she vowed to reclaim everything that had been taken from her.

As she mulled over her thoughts, her phone buzzed with an incoming message.

"Lilliana, someone said Caleb dragged you off. What's happening? Where are you right now?"

The message came from Sylvia Clayton, her long-time friend.

Their mothers had been inseparable, and Sylvia had always looked out for her.

Ever since Lilliana's pregnancy became known, Sylvia had worried constantly about her safety.

Seeing Sylvia's name stirred a faint ache in Lilliana's chest. Her eyes softened as she typed back, "I'm safe. The man I was with that night was Caleb. All the Reynolds family cares about is that I marry him and deliver the babies I'm carrying."

Sylvia froze for a beat, as if the pieces had just clicked into place.

That night had been a cruel twist of fate-one drugged, the other walking into the wrong room.

By the time they hunted for the culprit, the trail had already gone cold.

Who would have guessed the man Lilliana had slept with was Caleb?

A conflicted look crossed Sylvia's face, a strange mix of relief and worry. "If the Dixons catch wind of this, they won't take it well," she warned softly. "And Caleb... he's got a reputation for being cold and impossible to predict. People say there's someone he loves deeply. So what's your plan?"

In that former life, every thread tying Lilliana and Caleb together was stiff and icy.

It no longer mattered to her who he loved.

All she needed were three years-just long enough to get back her mother's things-then she would walk away, children in tow, with Caleb's alimony in her pocket.

But one thing was non-negotiable: anyone who had ever harmed her children would never come near them again. Especially not Xenia.

"Sylvia," she said, her tone suddenly steely. "I need you to help me with something."

Sylvia blinked, caught off guard. "What are you planning to do?"

Lilliana dropped her gaze, a faint shadow crossing her face. "I've got to keep him hooked, no matter what."

She didn't care if Caleb ever loved her, but she wanted him to cherish their children.

Every one of Xenia's plots had to end in failure.

She would secure her place as Caleb's lawful wife and drag the Dixon family through hell until their dues were repaid.

...

Outside, rain pattered softly, wrapping the night in a muted, intimate hush.

Inside a club, the air reeked of liquor, mingled with the wet sound of kisses, and the entire place throbbed with a decadent, almost sinful heat.

In the shadowed corner of a private room, Caleb sprawled across the sofa, a silver ring glinting on his finger as he idly rolled a glass between his fingers. His shirt hung loosely where it met his belt, offering a glimpse of his toned waist that added to his lazy magnetism.

But the sharp gleam in his eyes cut through the air, an unspoken warning that kept most onlookers at bay.

No one dared break the invisible boundary-until a woman in a scarlet, plunging dress glided toward him. With a practiced sway, she perched herself on his lap and offered a playful smile.

"Mr. Reynolds," she purred, raising her glass, "you look far too serious. Let me cheer you up."

Caleb's gaze lifted, catching the soft arch of her eyes. At first, his expression seemed almost tender, coaxing, but the illusion shattered under closer scrutiny.

Caleb's hand shot up, closing firmly around her wrist.

His voice dropped to a velvety murmur, teasing and dangerous. "Behave yourself. Stop trying to throw yourself at me."

The flirtation drained from the woman's face. She gave a coy pout, but when his glacial stare met hers, fear sliced through her composure.

Then, a snake slowly wound itself around her gown.

Her breath hitched, and a startled cry escaped before her knees buckled, sending her stumbling from his lap.