Chapter 6

Isabella got up slowly, cradling the baby, wiping tears that this time looked real. “If you hadn’t nagged me every single day about wanting an heir right away, would I have resorted to this? If you weren’t so worthless and selfish in bed, would the child have turned out like this?”

She grew bolder, voice rising hysterically for the press. “Besides, the test said it’s yours too! Isn’t that enough? The next empire controller will still be a Blackwood—you should be thanking me, not blaming me!”

Hearing her desperate words, the representatives from the Voss family and the other two major families immediately stepped forward from the crowd, microphones ready.

“We do not recognize this illegitimate child. The alliance agreement is crystal clear: it must be the legitimate offspring of the designated marriage to qualify for board control.”

“If we allow the Blackwoods to pull this kind of stunt, the entire succession system collapses. Who knows what chaos and diluted bloodlines you would breed next.”

“The other families vote no. Blackwood has no claim this cycle.”

With the other families united against them, Blackwood’s shot at the throne was dead. Their stock continued to plummet.

Alex, who had started to waver under Isabella’s pleading, exploded in rage again. “Isabella, look what you’ve done! You’ve shamed the entire family and cost us billions!”

On the way back to the Voss penthouse after the spectacle, Damien was unusually quiet and sulking in the back of the Rolls-Royce. After I pressed him gently, he finally spilled, voice low and jealous.

“When you saw that Marcus Kane, your eyes lit up for a second. Do you think I’m not hot enough for you?”

Seeing the rare vulnerability in my powerful husband, I got a naughty, teasing idea. I leaned over, lips brushing his ear. “Damien, you’re the sexiest man alive to me—especially when you fuck me senseless in bed at night…”

The moment we stepped inside the penthouse, Damien grabbed my waist, threw me onto the massive bed, and stripped me naked in seconds. His dark eyes blazed with hunger and possession.

“You teasing little wife, I’m going to fuck you senseless all day and remind you exactly who you belong to.”

His rock-hard, veined cock—thick as my wrist and over ten inches long—sprang free. He spread my legs wide, shoving every inch balls-deep into my soaked pussy with one brutal thrust, making me scream his name.

“Sophia—your cunt is mine. Only mine.”

He started slow and deep, strong hands pinning my hips, grinding against my clit while sucking my hard nipples. I came hard the first time, juices squirting around his shaft. Then he sped up, slamming into me relentlessly, flipping me onto all fours and ramming from behind, balls slapping my clit.

“Beg for more, my wife. Tell me how much you love my fat cock stretching your tight hole.”

“Oh fuck, Damien, it’s too much!” I moaned, orgasming twice more as he dominated me completely.

He switched to missionary, his lean muscled body pressing down tenderly yet forcefully, kissing my lips deeply while pounding away. He was gentle with caresses and whispered praise between the rough thrusts, but he wouldn’t stop even when I begged, “Please, I can’t take anymore—I’m gonna pass out!”

Wave after wave hit me—five, six, seven climaxes—my body shaking, vision blurring from the endless pleasure, until the sun set and I was a limp, satisfied, cum-filled mess utterly wrecked by his endless stamina and love.

A month later, Isabella showed up at the Voss residence unannounced, covered in fresh bruises, eyes red and swollen from crying. She grabbed my hand desperately.

“Sister, please help me? Alex has completely lost it. He says if I don’t give him a real legitimate heir soon, he’ll torment me every single day and night. I can’t take it anymore—if I don’t get pregnant soon, I’ll die. Do you know any secret medical way or contact to help?”

Her words didn’t surprise me at all. In my past life I was the one suffering exactly that torment.

Isabella’s exposed skin was a mess of purple bruises, new welts layered over old ones, bite marks from Alex’s rough handling marring her thighs and breasts—all self-inflicted karma.

In my past life she had lured me home pretending she missed me, drugged my and my child’s drinks, and set the house ablaze while we were helpless. As she left she had glared at me viciously, screaming like a madwoman, “Sophia, your life was meant to be mine! I should have married into the Blackwoods. I should have borne the heir!”

Now she had stolen my fate and was regretting it.

I calmly pulled my hand from her tight, desperate grip and spoke slowly, voice even. “Sister, it’s not that I won’t help. Conceiving a legitimate heir with the Blackwood line is insanely difficult even under perfect conditions. You wrecked your body with that last birth and the illegal drugs—it will take at least three to five years before your system can even try again safely.”

Isabella stood up, eyes full of pure venom and hatred. “Sophia, you’re just refusing to help because you can’t stand me winning! Fine, I’ll find my own way. I’ll get pregnant again and crush you at the next board vote. You won’t beat me to having the heir—I won’t lose to you!”

She spat the threat and slammed the door so hard the paintings rattled.

I was speechless for a moment. I had told her the absolute truth. Conception couldn’t be forced or faked forever.

In my past life I had used every risky method because I carried hidden family connections that helped. This life I refused to destroy myself again.

Just when I thought I would never get pregnant this cycle—because Voss and White bloodlines were also notoriously difficult—something unexpected happened.

Two months later, late one night as Damien’s hand slid gently over my still-flat belly while we lay in bed after another passionate round, he suddenly froze. His voice was tense with hope and disbelief.

“Sophia, how long since your last period?”