Ana stood by the garden pond, her tears falling silently. She knew she had no right to be jealous. She was just a hired surrogate, after all. Whatever had happened between them had been her own foolish dream. But the pain was real. She loved him. Deeply. Hopelessly.
She stared up at the sky, trying to steady her breath, to hold back the sobs that threatened to break her.
Then she heard footsteps.
Harry reached her, breathless. Without a word, he took off his coat and wrapped it gently around her shoulders. He pulled her into his arms from behind, resting his forehead against the curve of her neck, inhaling the familiar sweetness of her scent.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's not what you think."
Ana let out a bitter laugh and pulled away.
"Sir doesn't need to explain anything to me. I'm just the hired surrogate for your future child," she said coldly.
Her words made Harry panic. "Ana, please. She's no one to me. I swear. You're the one I want."
"Sir jokes." Her voice was flat. "There's no relationship between us. You owe me nothing. If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."
She turned.
"Ana!" he cried desperately. "I love you. Don't you understand? I love you. I've never loved anyone like I love you. You're the only woman I've ever wanted."
Ana stopped in her tracks, frozen. Her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"You... You love me?" she asked in a trembling voice.
Harry stepped closer, his eyes soft with emotion. "Do you love me too?"
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she nodded. "Yes... I love you. I love you so much."
Without hesitation, Harry pulled her into his embrace. Their lips met in a passionate kiss beneath the night sky, hearts finally laid bare.
From a distant, Sasha stood hidden in the shadows. Her fist clinged tightly, fingers digging into her palm and drawing blood.
But she didn't flinch. She didn't feel the pain only rage. Her gaze, cold and murderous gaze, was fixed on the scene unfolding below near the garden bridge.
She had arrived minutes earlier, only to witness the woman she loathed Ana wrapped in Harry's embrace. Her husband, the man who once only ever showed her indifference, was now holding Ana as though she were something precious. The way he looked at her, the tenderness in his touch, the desperation in his voice when he confessed his love, it pierced Sasha's heart like a dagger.
"He told her he loves her," she whispered to herself, trembling with fury.
"Her. That lowlife, insignificant... surrogate."
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her mind spiraled into dark places. For weeks, she had sensed something shifting in Harry. He was colder, more absent. She'd blamed work, stress, the usual. But now she saw the truth. It was Ana. That girl had bewitched him.
A voice inside Sasha whispered that she had lost. But another, the louder, crueler voice screamed back: No. Not yet. Not ever.
She turned from away and marched back into her room, her heels striking the floor like warning shots. The maids scattered. Sasha didn't care.
She paced like a lioness cornered and hungry, replaying the scene in her head. Ana's tearful confession. Harry's desperate words. Their kiss.
Hatred twisted her features. It consumed her, clawing at her insides until only one thought remained.
"If I can't have him… then neither will she."
With a newfound malice burning in her chest, Sasha poured herself a drink, watching the blood drip from her wounded palm into the glass. She smiled—slow, cold, and full of venom.
It was time to act.
And Ana… that bitch would regret ever stepping into her world.
On the other hand, Ana felt like the happiest woman in the world, resting in the arms of the man she loved. The night sky above glittered with stars, but none shone brighter than the love in her eyes.
She sat on Harry's lap, her arms looped around his neck, his warm hands wrapped tightly around her waist as if she were the most precious thing he possessed.
"You said you love me, right?" she asked sweetly, her eyes reflecting the starlight.
With his face buried in the crook of her neck, Harry gently nibbled on her skin, his fingers absentmindedly twirling strands of her hair. He murmured a soft "mm-hmm" that sent shivers down her spine.
"Then you can't take back what you said. Ever," she added firmly, her playful tone replaced by a rare seriousness.
Harry leaned back just enough to look at her face. Her eyes were round with sincerity, her lips slightly pouted. His heart melted. Kissing her tenderly, he whispered,
"May heaven and earth bear me witness that I, Harry Fairchild, promise to love no one else but Reina Lyle all my life. I vow to be your shield and protector, to give you every happiness the world can offer, to stand by your side and never betray you."
Ana's heart fluttered. Her eyes sparkled with affection as she returned his gaze.
"I, Ana Lyle, promise to love no one else but Harry Fairchild with all of my life. As long as you don't betray me, I'll never leave you. I'll stand by your side… for eternity."
Harry smiled, then suddenly asked, "What happens if I ever let you down?"
She tilted her head, pondering for a moment before replying, "Then our love will come to an end. I'll leave you and find the world's finest man to marry."
A mock expression of horror crossed Harry's face. "Oh really? You dare to think about marrying another man? Let's see how I'll deal with you now!"
Before she could protest, he launched an all-out tickle attack, making her shriek with laughter and beg for mercy between giggles. The moonlit garden echoed with their joy.
Inside the Fairchild mansion, in the elegantly lit sitting room, a very different kind of reunion was taking place.
"The last time I saw you, you were still a little girl," Old Madame said warmly. "You've grown into such a beautiful and classy young lady. That's a good thing."
"Old Madame flatters me. I'm still the same little pink-head," Soraya replied with a coy smile.
Years ago, Soraya had been infamous for dyeing her hair bright pink, a color Old Madame had detested. Despite the matriarch's protests, the rebellious teenager had flaunted it like a crown. Yet now, seated in front of her, Soraya was all elegance and grace, clad in soft pastels and poise.
They conversed amicably, reminiscing and catching up. But across the room, Sasha sat like a storm contained in silence, her eyes cold and calculating as they trailed Soraya's every move.
The hatred between the two women was no secret. They had once loved the same man, and that rivalry had only grown with time. If looks could kill, the room would've turned to ash.
"I heard your family is discussing marriage with the Osman family. I'll congratulate you in advance," Sasha said with a sugary smile that didn't reach her eyes.
The Osman family was wealthy, powerful, and influential. On paper, marrying into such a clan would be a dream come true. But the reality was far more grotesque. Their only son, Osman Jr., was a well-known womanizer, gambler, and drunkard. Rumor had it he had multiple mistresses and more than one illegitimate child scattered across the city.
Soraya, seeing through the mockery, smiled even more sweetly. "Well, thank you. I also heard your health hasn't been so great lately. You should take better care of yourself. After all, you've been married for a while now… but there's been no movement in your belly."
She leaned closer, voice still velvet smooth. "Don't worry too much. Let nature take its course. I sincerely wish you the birth of twin sons to glorify the Fairchild family name."
Sasha's smile vanished instantly. Her expression turned murderous, her hands clenching into fists beneath the tablecloth. Soraya, unfazed, sipped her tea with a cool, contemptuous smile.
Later that evening, guided by Ana's hand, Harry walked down the hallway with his eyes closed.
"Where are you taking me?" he asked, amused.
"Shh. No peeking."
When she finally stopped, she whispered, "Now, open."
Harry opened his eyes and froze.
There, in the softly lit room, sat his sister Kimberly. She was dressed neatly, her hair combed, her lips curled into a gentle smile. Most shocking of all… she was sitting in her wheelchair.
For ten years, Kimberly had refused to use the chair, preferring to lie motionless in bed. Even more, she hadn't smiled at anyone. Not once.
"Big brother, come and see this," she said, her voice light but trembling with emotion.
He hurried to her side and knelt down. Kimberly slowly raised her right hand and moved her fingers.
Harry's eyes widened. "It… it moved?!"
"Yes," Ana said, eyes wide with wonder. "She's starting to feel something. She told me a few days ago but wanted to show you herself."
Tears welled in Harry's eyes. His hands trembled as he gently took hers into his.
"Thank you," he whispered to his sister, choking on the words. "Thank you for choosing to live again."
Kimberly's eyes sparkled, and Ana felt the moment settle deep in her soul. A bond, long frozen by pain and despair, was slowly being restored.
And in the shadows… someone else was preparing to tear it all apart.