He Begs Now, But I've Become The Prize He Couldn't Afford To Lose

By nine in the evening, sitting at the vanity, Corinne Nash was staring at a trending post on her phone, her chest tightening with every word.

"The CEO of Prime Group personally showed up at the airport to pick up his former tutor-after years of keeping every woman at arm's length, she was the only one he treated with such quiet tenderness."

In the photo, Ryland Becker, a man who was usually impossible to read, looked uncharacteristically gentle. Nestled close against his side, Jessica Walker wore an ivory dress and cradled an extravagant bouquet of roses.

Years ago, Jessica had been Ryland's high school tutor, only one year older than him.

At the time, Ryland had been infamous as a reckless troublemaker, the kind of son who gave his family one headache after another.

Yet somehow, in only a few short months, Jessica had turned that unruly boy inside out, molding him into a flawless heir everyone admired.

It was only natural for the two to develop feelings for each other. Whispers claimed the two had secretly married long ago, their silence merely a courtesy to Jessica's ongoing studies.

In reality, three years earlier, Corinne had accidentally cornered Ryland into signing a marriage contract-one that bound them together for exactly three years.

With a full month still remaining on that agreement, he had already hurried to bring Jessica back, unwilling to wait even those final days.

Fingers curled so tightly at Corinne's side that her nails carved deep crescents into her palm, the sting barely registering before she abruptly slipped off the wedding ring she had never once removed and tossed it into the trash.

Just then, the bedroom door burst open. A cool rush of night air swept inside, laced with the heady aroma of red wine. A faint haze of alcohol dimmed Ryland's pale eyes. As he crossed the room with long, unsteady strides, he loosened his tie and, without a second glance, grabbed her phone and tossed it to the bed.

"Honey, don't always keep your focus on your phone." A husky murmur brushed along her neck, his breath warm against her skin. "Look at me more, will you?"

Before she could react, he pulled her into his chest, his fingers sliding beneath the thin fabric of her nightdress with an ease that spoke of habit.

A faint trace of sandalwood lingered on him-yet beneath it, another fragrance clung stubbornly, unmistakably not her own.

Revulsion flared in her chest, and she shoved him back without hesitation. "I just got out of the shower-don't touch me."

Ignoring her resistance, he caught her wrist and forced her backward against the vanity, the hard edge pressing into her spine as he dragged her hand down toward his belt.

"Don't worry. We can have a bath together once we finish," he murmured.

Behind closed doors, the same Ryland who seemed distant and untouchable in public revealed a far more reckless, unrestrained side of himself.

Coming from a man with a face like his, those words carried a dangerous, almost intoxicating edge.

Anyone who witnessed this version of him might easily believe he was hopelessly in love with her, willing to indulge her without limits.

Yet Corinne understood the truth all too clearly. Years earlier, he had paid an exorbitant price to pull the Nash family out of ruin. In his eyes, she had never been anything more than a possession he had acquired-and in moments like these, she was expected to play her part.

Corinne tried to get up, but before she could, his fingers had already slipped beneath the thin strap of her nightdress and drawn it loose from her shoulder.

A shadow flickered across his eyes, deepening into something unreadable as he leaned closer, lowering his head toward her lips.

A faint, involuntary sound slipped past Corinne's lips before she could swallow it down.

From the very beginning, he had understood every one of her sensitive spots, pressing them with effortless precision.

No matter how much she resisted the truth, their bodies had always fallen into the same dangerous rhythm in moments like this.

What a cruel joke, when none of it had ever meant anything real.

Before she could steady her thoughts, his wandering hand had already slid deeper, igniting a sharp jolt through her nerves.

"Ryland!" A rigid tension seized her, her breath catching as her voice came out tight and uneven. "I'm on my period... not tonight."

Since their marriage was coming to an end, it was better for them to stop doing intimate things.

At once, he halted. Despite the heat still pulsing through him, he reined himself in, his restraint sharp and deliberate.

A burning intensity lingered in his eyes as they fixed on her flushed cheeks, his breath coming unevenly where it brushed her skin.

"It's only the sixteenth-it's just been ten days," he said.

Corinne was rendered speechless-she couldn't find a better excuse right now.

He hesitated for a brief moment, then, instead of pushing further, he lifted her into his arms and carefully laid her down on the bed.

"So why were you still working this late? And this close to your last cycle... are your periods irregular? Have you been under too much stress lately? If something's wrong, you need to tell me," he said softly.

A sharp ache pricked through Corinne's nose. Keeping her gaze lowered, she didn't dare look at him, afraid one glance would reveal far too much.

He had always been like this-tender, patient, infuriatingly thoughtful. Over the past three years, that steady gentleness had worn down her defenses little by little, until she had almost forgotten how ugly and humiliating the start of their relationship had been.

Yet Jessica's existence always dragged her back to the truth, cold and merciless, reminding her exactly what she was to him and exactly where she belonged.

She shouldn't immerse herself in this false happiness any longer. If she didn't end it now, the pain waiting for her later would only be worse.

"Ryland, we need to end this once and..."

Before she could get the words out, his phone suddenly rang. With just a single glance, she saw the name glowing on the screen. Jessica.

Instead of saying another word, Ryland stepped away and answered the call. "What is it?"

As he listened, his face tightened, and a frown slowly formed. He reached for his jacket from the vanity, already moving as he spoke. "I'm heading out now."

After ending the call, he faced Corinne again, and his expression eased as though nothing had interrupted them. "Something urgent came up. Get some rest, and don't wait for me. I'll have someone bring you warm milk, and if it gets worse, go to the hospital. I'll send someone to stay with you."

Without lingering for even a second, he walked out.

This kind of scene had long stopped being new. Over the past three years, Corinne had lost count of how often it happened.

Again and again, he chose to leave her behind for Jessica. It made no difference what the situation was. Whether they had just been intimate or she had been so unwell that she lost consciousness in bed, his decision never changed.

A sharp, piercing ache settled deep in Corinne's chest.

Before, she had always forced herself to endure it. Now, with their marriage coming to an end, she refused to stay silent any longer. Grabbing a pillow, she flung it straight at him.

"What? The moment I'm not up to sex, you rush off to someone else? Then don't forget to use protection and try not to catch anything!" she shouted.

The pillow struck him directly. He paused at last and turned around, a faint trace of resigned tolerance softening his otherwise cold expression. "Be good. I'll come back later."

Without waiting for her response, Ryland moved faster as he made his way downstairs. Jessica's life had been destroyed because of him. That burden was his responsibility. He had sworn to keep that secret buried forever and to take care of her for the rest of his life, which meant certain things could only be handled by him personally.

And Corinne? She had never truly cared about him from the very beginning. She would not even make their marriage known.

For three years, she stayed gentle and compliant at his side, but it was only because the Nash family's business was on the verge of collapse and needed the Becker family's support to survive. She had never given him anything genuine. Even during their most intense moments together, she had only been acting like the ideal wife.

From his point of view, her reaction had nothing to do with Jessica's return. He dismissed it as nothing more than irritation from her cycle, paired with a few biting remarks thrown his way.

Before Corinne could even respond, the door was already closed. Not long after, the sound of an engine starting echoed from below.

Light from the headlights swept across the windows for a brief moment, then vanished as the car sped off, leaving behind a heavy silence that seemed to sneer at her state.

Tears slipped free before Corinne had the chance to hold them back. She clenched her jaw, wiped her face, and snapped, "Bastard."

Sleep came in fragments that night, never lasting long. When Corinne woke, the sky was just beginning to brighten.

Ryland still hadn't returned. She reached for her phone and checked the time. It was five-thirty.

As she moved to lock the screen, a notification suddenly appeared.

"It's been six years since we first crossed paths. I'm so grateful we stayed in each other's lives."

The post came from Jessica.

Curious, Corinne tapped it and saw it had been posted at two-thirty in the morning. Several carefully edited night photos filled the post, along with a shot of a man's back.

The figure was unmistakable. His frame was strong, his waist lean, and the custom shirt he wore had been something she personally chose. There was no need to guess who it was.

With a sharp breath, Corinne tossed the phone aside.

If he truly cared that much about his first love, then why had he shown up last night acting gentle and attentive toward her?

What a damn bastard.

She pushed herself out of bed, headed to the bathroom, and began getting ready.

With every passing second, she kept cursing Ryland under her breath.

Over the last few years, she had been working as a reporter at a television station. That day, she was scheduled to visit the area near a chemical plant to conduct a public opinion survey.

She had just chosen a light gray casual outfit and was bending down to look for matching shoes when a hand suddenly reached from behind and pulled her firmly against a solid chest.

Through the mirror, Ryland standing behind her appeared strikingly attractive. He had already changed, and the fresh scent of soap lingered on him. He looked completely refreshed, almost annoyingly so.

As she stared at him, he dipped his head, caught the black strap resting on her shoulder between his teeth, then released it so it snapped lightly back against her skin.

Warm breath brushed along her shoulder while he smiled with quiet satisfaction, like a fox that had just secured its catch.

"This won't do. It doesn't match your charm, your grace, or that deadly beauty of yours," he said.

Seeing how effortlessly he shifted between her and Jessica, as if juggling both meant nothing to him, Corinne finally lost control. She inhaled sharply, turned around in one swift motion, and struck him across the face.

The sharp sound echoed in the room. He took the slap without moving, and even Corinne paused, momentarily stunned by the force of her own hand.

Rather than stepping back, Ryland inclined his head, closing the distance until they were face to face. Amusement flickered in his eyes. There wasn't a trace of anger-if anything, he turned slightly and offered his other cheek. "Still cranky because it's that time of the month? Go on. Take another swing if it'll make you feel better."

Heat surged through Corinne so violently her vision nearly blurred. The sheer audacity of him set her blood on fire.

He'd clearly spent the night with Jessica, and now he had the nerve to face her as if nothing had happened.

Without a second thought, she swung again. This time, his hand snapped up, catching her wrist with effortless precision. Before she could pull away, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a firm, deliberate kiss into her palm, sending a shiver racing through her.

"Come to think of it, a kiss works better-no bruised hand, and it might take the edge off," he said.

Then, just as quickly, something in his expression shifted. The lazy smile on his lips faltered, tightening almost imperceptibly. "Where's your ring?"

All at once, Corinne stiffened, her voice flat as she answered, "It's gone."

Trying to wrench her hand free, she pulled back hard, but his grip held firm, the resistance only dragging her forward until she collided squarely with his chest, earning a soft, amused chuckle from him.

"So that's what's got you worked up? Don't worry. I'll get you a better one," he smiled.

A low laugh rumbled from him, the vibration seeping into her as the distance between them vanished, their heartbeats nearly syncing as one.

Flirting moments like this weren't unusual between them. At times like this, Corinne almost let herself believe he was just as trapped in this marriage as she was-that somewhere beneath all the games, he felt something real, something reckless and impossible, the same way she did.

Now reality had stripped that fantasy bare and left only the sting of truth-every bit of it had been in her head.

Staying this way was something she refused to endure anymore.

"Ryland, we need to talk."

He paused for only a beat, let out an absent little hum for her to go on, then turned back to the closet as if the conversation could wait.

Before she could steady her thoughts, he returned carrying a light-blue skirt suit. He held it against her with an appraising look, clearly delighted by his own choice. "Put this on when we go to the family house. Grandma's going to adore it."

The family house? That was when it clicked for Corinne-it was Friday. The Becker family always gathered there for breakfast on the third Friday of every month.

By long-standing family custom, the younger generation was expected to arrive early and share the morning meal with the elders.

His grandmother had always been kind to her, and for the past three years, Corinne had quietly played her part.

Right then, though, a hard streak of defiance rose inside her. She tipped up her chin and refused without hesitation. "No."

A faint arch lifted one of his brows as he eased back half a step. "You don't like this one? Fine. I'll find you something else."

While speaking, he casually pulled open another cabinet, revealing rows of delicate, barely-there lingerie. "Or maybe slip into one of these instead. Just picture Grandma realizing her sweet, refined granddaughter-in-law could be this daring in private..."

"Ryland!" Heat rushed to Corinne's face in an instant, her cheeks burning a vivid, furious red.

Annoyance flared sharp and hot at being cornered like this. In one swift motion, she snatched the skirt suit from his hands, shoved it back into the closet, then folded her arms tightly across her chest, fixing him with a hard glare.

A bitter edge crept into her voice as she spoke, unable to hold it back. "Looks like you had a great time celebrating last night. Shouldn't you be taking Jessica instead? What exactly do you need me for?"

A brief pause locked his body in place. For the first time, his gaze slipped away from her, unfocused for a heartbeat. Then he crouched, retrieved the discarded outfit with deliberate care, and straightened. When his eyes lifted to hers again, something raw and smoldering flickered there.

"According to family rules, the only woman who returns with me is my wife. So what'll it be? Are you putting it on yourself, or do you want me to do it for you?" he said calmly.

Silence wrapped around Corinne, leaving her momentarily stunned.

What made it worse was the realization that she'd actually expected him to feel embarrassed. That was almost laughable. Shame simply didn't exist in his vocabulary.

Understanding exactly what kind of man she was dealing with, she knew dragging this out would only give him more chances to push her buttons. If she resisted any longer, he'd keep prodding, relentless, until she finally broke.

With a tight breath, she changed into the outfit, adjusted her makeup in the mirror, and shut herself off from him completely. Throughout the entire drive, not a single word passed her lips. Even as the car pulled into the sprawling family estate, she maintained that cold, unbroken silence.

Just as she reached for the door, his hand closed around her arm, stopping her.

"If you're not feeling well, we'll leave right after breakfast. At least try to look like you're in a good mood. Don't make them worry," he said.

A sharp, humorless laugh slipped out of Corinne. The concern in his eyes only made the whole scene feel that much more ridiculous.

All of this was just for show. He wanted her beside him so his family would feel reassured, and she had been stupid enough, all this time, to keep trying to play the flawless wife.

Not anymore. She was done with that for good.

Over the last three years, everything the Becker family had brought to the Nash family had been repaid-many times over.

With a hard tug, she yanked her hand out of his grasp, snapping, "Ryland, after breakfast, we're getting di-"

Before the word could leave her mouth, a few crisp knocks tapped against the car window and cut her off.