Chapter 1

On their wedding night, Hannah Hart found a pair of lace panties, adorned with pearls, in the pocket of her groom's tailcoat. She quietly tucked them back in, showing no reaction.

Shawn Spencer emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a white bath towel. His dark, alluring eyes were filled with a raw, masculine desire. He walked over to the bed, dropped to one knee, inching closer to her.

“Hannah, I want you,” he whispered.

His scorching hand landed on her smooth, porcelain calf, slowly creeping upward…

Hannah's eyes flared with crimson rage.

This man… the one she'd loved since she was sixteen, who had been her rock through family crises and every storm life threw at them, the one who would have laid down his life for her…

And yet, he had cheated.

A cheating man, like drinking spoiled milk, made her feel sick to her stomach.

Just as Shawn's hand slid higher, nearing the inside of her thigh, Hannah’s body trembled. She grabbed his hand, her grip firm even through the fabric of her sensuous nightdress.

Shawn, lost in his desire, suddenly looked up. His eyes were blazing. “Hannah, what's wrong? Are you nervous? Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle… it’s our first time.”

He leaned in, ready to claim her lips with his own.

The intensity of his masculine scent enveloped her, but now it only filled her with disgust. Her stomach churned violently. She couldn’t bear it.

She swiftly covered his mouth with her hand and asked, “Shawn, do you love me?”

Shawn gave a slight smile, taking her fingers in his and kissing them softly. “Is this some kind of wedding jitters? Do you really need to ask if I love you? If I didn’t, would I have given you this grand wedding? Would I have married you at all? Silly girl, tonight, I’ll show you just how much I love you, my wife.”

His eyes were dark with a lust so intense it left no room for doubt.

For a moment, Hannah felt a flicker of uncertainty. Could it be that the panties were just a misunderstanding? Maybe they were planted by one of Shawn's admirers, hoping to stir trouble between them? If she let this get to her, wouldn't she be playing right into their hands?

Hannah thought she should get to the bottom of things and find out the truth before condemning Shawn based on a stray pair of panties.

But until she was sure, she had no intention of being with him.

"Shawn, I’m not ready," she said firmly, pulling the blanket tightly around herself.

She watched as the longing on Shawn's face slowly turned into a pitiful plea. "Hannah, please..."

But Hannah didn't waver. "I’m exhausted because of the wedding."

Shawn narrowed his eyes, his gaze settling on her lips, unreadable and intense. “Hannah…”

Still, she stood her ground.

His excitement faded completely, and irritation flashed across his face. He seemed disappointed but chose to respect her wishes. "Fine, let's sleep."

Half an hour later, Shawn turned over. "Hannah?"

She didn’t respond, appearing to be fast asleep.

Shawn checked his phone, then quietly slipped out of their room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Hannah's eyes flew open. She grabbed a coat and followed him out, moving slowly and silently.

In the hotel's parking lot, she stood under a tree, her eyes fixed on Shawn as he opened the door of a silver Mercedes not far away. Through the crack of the door, she saw Denise Rees’ face—Shawn's childhood sweetheart, who had impulsively married someone else three years ago and was now in the midst of a divorce.

Heavy breathing and soft moans filled the air, with Shawn's voice louder and more intense than the woman's.

Moments later, the window slid shut, and all that could be seen was the car rocking back and forth in the dim light.

Hannah clenched her fists so tightly that her nails bit into her palms, leaving thin lines of blood. Her body shook with a wave of crushing disappointment. Her heart felt like it was being plunged into boiling oil or left to wither away, shriveled and exposed.

She had always believed that even if every man on earth cheated, her Shawn never would.

From the start, their relationship had given Hannah an unwavering sense of security. He introduced her to all his friends, rejected every hint of flirtation that came his way, braved the cold to bring her hot ginger tea during her period, and stood by her every decision without a second thought...

But now…

It all felt like a cruel joke.

Hannah shut her eyes, a sob catching in her throat. She thought she should expose their affair and get a divorce. She was always the kind of person who could walk away with her head held high.

But she had stepped back from her position as the company's second-in-command, and even her shares and dividends were tied up in a joint account with Shawn. If she divorced now, not only would she end up with nothing, but she would also be crushed by the Spencer family.

And then there was her mother… her grandmother…

The trust she once held so dearly now felt like a knife twisting in her back.

Hannah felt her heart split open, the cold wind rushing in, filling the wound with a pain that was both sharp and relentless. She felt a chill seeping through her body and pulled her coat tighter around herself. She turned and walked away, each step slow and calculated like a marionette being dragged forward.

As she waited for the elevator, a sudden blow from behind struck her neck, and everything went dark.

Hannah crumpled to the ground.

When her consciousness returned, panic surged through her. She found herself lying on an unfamiliar bed, with the weight of an unknown man pressing down on her.

She was completely exposed, not a thread of clothing on her.

The man and she… had already done the deed.

Tears instantly streamed down Hannah's face.

On her wedding night, she discovered her husband's infidelity.

And now, out of nowhere, she had lost her chastity.

Two events, so unimaginable that even a novelist wouldn’t dare combine them, had come crashing down on her in a single terrible night.

Hannah sobbed uncontrollably.

In the darkness, the man’s lips brushed against her brow, trailing down to taste the salt of her tears. His voice was rough as he whispered, "Remember my name—Sebastian Spencer. I will marry you."

Sebastian Spencer?

Sebastian Spencer!

That man was Shawn's uncle. Since Shawn's father had taken his wife's surname upon marrying into the Spencer family, Shawn carried his mother's name.

Who was Sebastian Spencer?

He was the renowned prince charming of Claydale, with an endless line of heiresses stretching from Claydale to Austin eager to marry him. A man with stunning looks, exceptional ability, a brilliant mind, and ruthless methods.

Hannah was too terrified even to cry.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, terrified that if Sebastian heard her voice, he might choose to silence her for good.

Sebastian had been drugged.

At his nephew's wedding banquet, he had a few extra drinks, never expecting someone would take advantage of him.

He had never been one to indulge in women. Aside from a brief relationship in his youth that ended without much consequence, he had spent years without a single romantic encounter—not even a whisper of interest from anyone.

But that night, after his first sexual encounter in so many years, he found himself unexpectedly intoxicated by the experience.

The woman was petite and soft, her voice sweet and delicate, which only drove him to lose control entirely.

Wave after wave, an utter mess ensued—especially on the bed they were in.

It wasn’t until after three in the morning that Hannah quietly slipped away, her body aching as if she had just run a marathon.

In her rush, she didn’t notice that, hidden in the darkness, a pair of eyes were fixed intently on her, filled with jealousy and hatred.