His Second Wife

Chapter 1: The Beginning

"I don't care what your mother says, Dom! My body is my asset. The moment I get pregnant, my contracts with Vogue and Paris Fashion Week are done. You want me to become some boring housewife who loses her figure?" Clara's voice cut through the silence of the study like a blade.

Clara stood in the center of the room, still wearing a blood-red silk gown that hugged her slender frame to perfection. There was nothing maternal about her — only blazing ambition.

Dominic didn't move from his leather throne. He sipped whiskey from a crystal glass, his ice-cold eyes fixed on his wife.

"Five years, Clara. Five years I've given you room to chase your ambitions. But my mother is right — an empire without an heir is just waiting for its turn to crumble."

"Oh, so now you're listening to that old woman's nagging?" Clara laughed bitterly, stepping closer and bracing her hands on his desk. "Your mother just wants a new doll to mold into a monster like you. I'm not a baby factory, Dom!"

Crack!

The glass in Dominic's hand slammed against the desk. Whiskey splashed across important documents, but he didn't care.

Dominic rose to his feet, and Clara instinctively stepped back — the sheer intimidation radiating from his powerful frame demanded it.

"Don't ever talk about my mother like that again," he hissed, rounding the desk and cornering Clara until her back hit the bookshelf. "You knew exactly who I was when you accepted this ring. You knew that in my world, loyalty and bloodline are the highest currency. You've enjoyed every privilege of being Dominic's wife. You've enjoyed the protection of my name. But you refuse your obligations?"

Clara lifted her chin, fighting to preserve her dignity even as her breathing quickened.

"I'm your wife, not your servant! My career is at its peak, Dom. I was just selected as an international brand ambassador. You think I'd throw all that away just for morning sickness and a swollen belly?"

"Then how long am I supposed to wait?" Dominic asked, his face only inches from hers. "Until you're wrinkled and no camera wants to look at you anymore? By then your womb will be too old to give me what I need."

"Then find another woman to do it!" Clara screamed, frustrated. "Rent a womb, or sleep with whoever you want. I don't care — just don't mess with my life!"

Dominic stared at Clara with an expression that was hard to read — a mixture of contempt and deep disappointment.

"You just gave me permission you'll never be able to take back, Clara," Dominic said calmly. Too calmly — and that was far more terrifying than his anger.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Dominic didn't answer. He turned, picking up his phone from the desk. "Leave. I have a meeting to finish."

"We're not done talking!"

"I said leave!" Dominic snapped.

Clara flinched, her eyes glistening with fury, but she knew when to stop before Dominic truly exploded.

With a low growl, she snatched her bag and stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard the vibration rattled through the walls.

Dominic let out a long breath and dragged a rough hand down his face. He hadn't expected that a marriage he'd once believed would be a powerful alliance had become a suffocating burden.

His thoughts drifted to his mother, who had called again that afternoon — crying, begging him to give her a grandchild before her health declined further.

Two sharp knocks on the door broke through his thoughts.

"Come in," Dominic ordered.

Marco, his right-hand man and most trusted confidant, stepped in with a serious expression. He held a slim folder.

"Sir, there's trouble at the nightclub owned by Miss Clara's family," Marco reported curtly.

Dominic raised an eyebrow. He rarely dealt with his wife's stepfamily, whom he considered parasites. "What's that got to do with me?"

"They're trying to set someone up to cover their casino debts. Someone who apparently has high value on the black market. Her name is Miss Keyla."

Dominic paused. The name was unfamiliar, but his instincts reacted. "Keyla? Who is she?"

"Miss Clara's stepsister. The one they've been hiding in the back of the house."

Dominic leaned back and lit a cigar. "Send someone over. I'm tired of Clara's drama tonight. Maybe watching her family's mess will be entertainment enough."

"Yes, sir."

Dominic didn't know that his decision to witness that mess would lead him to a girl who would change all of his plans.

"Please, Mother... I'm begging you, don't do this. I'll do anything — wash dishes, clean the club every day — please don't sell me!" The girl's cry broke through the air, raw and devastating.

She knelt on the floor, clutching the hem of the short red dress that had been forced onto her body.

The dress was far too revealing, exposing her delicate skin, which now trembled violently.

Siska, her stepmother, merely took a drag from a slim cigarette pinched between her fingers, eyeing Keyla with undisguised disgust.

"Do what? Your dishwashing salary won't come close to covering your family's casino debt, Keyla. That body of yours is an asset — the only valuable thing you have."

"Dad... Dad, please help me..." Keyla's swollen eyes turned to the middle-aged man standing frozen in the corner of the room.

The man — her own father — just hung his head low. His fists were clenched, but his mouth stayed locked shut. He couldn't meet his daughter's eyes.

"Don't bother hoping your father will help. He already agreed," Siska cut in coldly. She signaled to two large men standing behind her. "Hold her!"

"No! Please!" Keyla struggled, but her arms were seized with enough force to leave red marks.

Siska approached, carrying a glass filled with a clear liquid that reeked sharply of alcohol. Inside, a small pill had already dissolved completely.

"Drink this. So you won't be too tense when you're serving our special guest later," Siska said with a devil's smile.

"I don't want to... please, don't... hic... I'm begging you..." Keyla shook her head hard, tears flooding her cheeks.

"Open her mouth!" Siska barked.

One of the men yanked Keyla's hair back, forcing her face upward while the other pried her jaw open.

Keyla was trapped, her breath ragged with overwhelming terror.

"Swallow it, or I'll make sure your family rots in prison tonight!" Siska threatened, her face inches from Keyla's.

The bitter, burning liquid was forced down Keyla's throat. She coughed violently as heat spread from her throat to her stomach.