She Married a Sterile Mafia Boss for One Year—Then the Doctor Said She Was Pregnant
Chapter 3
Their wedding was attended by fewer than twenty people.
There were no flowers covering the church.
No photographers.
No smiling relatives.
Just a few witnesses, Adrian’s attorney, and several men in dark suits standing near the entrance.
Isabella wore a simple ivory dress.
Adrian wore black.
When he took her hand, his fingers were cold.
“You can still change your mind,” he whispered.
She looked at him.
“So can you.”
“I won’t.”
“Neither will I.”
The priest completed the ceremony.
They exchanged rings.
Then Adrian leaned toward her.
“For the next year, you’re my wife.”
Isabella looked into his eyes.
“And you’re my husband.”
Neither smiled.
That evening, Adrian brought her to Blackwood Manor.
It was enormous.
Steel gates.
Security cameras.
Guards stationed at every entrance.
The mansion itself was elegant but strangely quiet.
A housekeeper named Mrs. Grant showed Isabella to her room.
“If you need anything, ring the bell.”
Isabella looked around.
“Where is Mr. Blackwood’s room?”
“East wing.”
“Should I go there?”
Mrs. Grant shook her head.
“He’ll come to you if he wants to speak.”
Isabella smiled bitterly.
“Romantic.”
Mrs. Grant almost smiled.
“You didn’t marry him for romance.”
“No.”
“Good.”
The older woman paused at the door.
“Then perhaps you’ll survive this house.”
That night, Isabella couldn’t sleep.
At two in the morning, she heard shouting downstairs.
She opened her door.
Adrian was standing in the hallway.
His white shirt was stained with blood.
Isabella froze.
“Are you hurt?”
“Not mine.”
He started walking away.
She followed.
“Adrian.”
He stopped.
She handed him a towel.
“Take this.”
He stared at her.
“You should be afraid of me.”
“I am.”
His expression changed.
“But I’m also not going to let you bleed on the carpet.”
For the first time, something almost like amusement touched his eyes.
“Go back to bed.”
“After you clean that up.”
He looked at the towel.
Then at her.
“Yes, wife.”
