Chapter 1

Heather Jenner glanced at the ovulation test strip in her hand. The result was clear—a bold red line.

Today was the day. Her body was about to release a mature egg. It would be her best chance to conceive.

Without hesitation, she tossed the strip aside and stepped out of the bathroom.

In the expansive, minimalist living room, a man lay sprawled across the sofa, drunk. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the smooth, pale skin beneath. The gentle rise and fall of his throat with each breath was tantalizing.

Heather straddled his waist, her lips brushing against his Adam's apple as her fingers worked to undo his belt.

Just as her hand slid lower, the man suddenly grabbed her wrist.

Jason Vander's eyes snapped open. Without a shred of mercy, he shoved her off. "Don't be shameless, Heather. You just got engaged to my brother."

Her face, a perfect blend of innocence and desire, was marred by the tears hanging at the corners of her eyes, giving her a fragile, broken look. "Jason, your brother got another woman pregnant. He's going to dump me."

Jason regarded her coldly. "That has nothing to do with me. Get out of my house."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she lunged toward him, clinging desperately. "Jason, we grew up together. Please, help me, just this once. If I get pregnant, your brother won't be able to break off the engagement and abandon me!"

She burrowed against his chest, forcing his hand to her body. "Since that car accident left me injured, your brother hasn't touched me in a long time..."

Her pleas, her tears, the way she pressed against him—it all made Jason's breathing quicken. But in the very next moment, he gripped her shoulders and threw her back onto the sofa.

"What makes you think I would want something my brother has already discarded?" His voice was icy. "Don't dirty my home. Get out."

Heather glanced down at his reaction. A moment ago, pressed against him, she had felt the unmistakable stir of his desire.

But Jason stood in the shadows now, his emotions unreadable. Before she could see more clearly, he turned and walked away.

He had resisted. Heather couldn't believe it. Disappointment flooded through her.

As she left, she defiantly removed her bra and stuffed it into the crack of his sofa.

After returning home, Heather took a shower and then lay down on the bed, holding a small mirror in her hand.

She spread her legs, gazing down at the reflection in the mirror.

It was clean, soft, and pink, with a small berry tattoo on one side that carried a mix of sensuality and innocence.

She touched it gently. Beneath the tattoo, the scar tissue was unmistakable.

Visually, the mark was hidden, but anyone who touched it would know she had been injured there.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed when the door suddenly swung open.

Brett Vander, back from an evening of socializing, hadn't drunk much. But when he saw where her hand rested, a surge of heat rushed through him.

He tossed his jacket aside and pushed his way onto the bed. "So desperate you're doing it yourself?" he teased.

Heather instinctively reached for the blanket to cover herself, but Brett's hand was already on the berry tattoo.

Her body went weak, and she let out a soft moan, her voice hoarse.

Just as she wrapped her arms around his neck, ready to surrender, she caught a whiff of something—a scent on his collar that wasn't hers.

To her, the scent was both foreign and familiar. She smelled it on him after he returned home more than once.

Whatever desire had been building inside her vanished in an instant. Revulsion took its place.

At the same moment, Brett's face suddenly changed. He stopped his advances and quickly got up, running to the bathroom.

Heather listened calmly to the sound of him retching.

This wasn't the first time. It wouldn't wound her pride anymore.

Half a year ago, Brett had taken her on a motorcycle ride. They had been in an accident on the road.

He had skillfully escaped unharmed, but the heavy bike had crushed her beneath it.

It had crushed her "down there."

At that time, she had screamed in agony as the pain hit her. Brett had yanked down her pants to check the injury.

There was a deep gash on one side where the bike had struck her, and blood was pouring out.

Brett had always been squeamish at the sight of blood. The moment he saw it, he had vomited.

Even after her wounds healed, the incident left a lasting scar on his mind.

Every time he touched her, Brett would remember that blood-soaked wound, and any spark of desire vanished instantly.

At first, Heather thought he had developed a general aversion to women. But then she realized—it was just her.

When strange women she didn't know sent her videos of themselves in bed with him, she finally understood. A different woman could still ignite his passion, making him burn hot and wild.

The Vanders were wealthy and powerful, so she had planned to turn a blind eye to it all.

But then one of those women sent a picture of a positive pregnancy test, and Heather could no longer sit idly by.

She had spent her best years on Brett, from school uniforms to wedding gowns, giving him the prime of her youth.

There was no way she would let go of the wealth and status that was almost within her grasp.

Grabbing her phone, Heather took a photo of the berry tattoo and sent it to Jason.

She had grown up with the Vander brothers, but because Brett had been named the heir, her relationship with Jason had always been distant and ambiguous.

But it didn't matter that Jason wasn't the family's chosen successor. As long as she got pregnant with a Vander child, that was all she needed.