Ticking Love

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In the fifth year of being Ethan Carter's dog, he got married.

His new wife, a woman who despised the very sight of me, his live-in bodyguard, decided to introduce me to her brother-a man with the mental capacity of a three-year-old.

In front of all their friends, Ethan had said, Honestly, you and my idiot brother-in-law are a perfect match. You've got that scar on your face; he won't care that you're ugly.

He'd leaned in, a conspiratorial smirk on his lips.

"He does have a kid, though. You don't mind being a stepmom, do you?"

Why would I mind?

It's not like I wasn't the one who gave birth to her.

The rumor mill of the city's elite whispered that I was so pathetically in love with Ethan Carter I'd willingly become his lapdog.

But the truth was, before Ethan, there was someone else.

That someone was his new brother-in-law, Nathaniel Bennett.

Back then, I was young and wild.

I had a string of admirers, including the boy Victoria Scott, Nathaniel's sister, was obsessed with.

She couldn't stand me, so she called her big brother to put the fear of God in me.

At the time, Nathaniel was far from a simpleton.

He was a kingpin, a man who moved with ease through both the glittering upper world and the shadowy underbelly of the city.

In the dim light of a private club room, his cold eyes swept over me as his men shoved me in front of him.

I was all heavy makeup and dark lipstick, the picture of a teenage delinquent.

He frowned in distaste, his arm draped casually over the back of the sofa, the long, elegant fingers of one hand tapping a restless rhythm.

"You're Grace Thompson?" he asked, his voice a low drawl.

Before I could answer, he tossed a checkbook onto the table in front of me with a thud.

"Your so-called boyfriend just ditched you and ran. How about you go out with me instead?"

I stared at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"If I go out with you, will you make sure I never go hungry again?"

Nathaniel's men snickered.

Nathaniel did not.

A glacial stare from him and their laughter died, their postures snapping to attention.

He tapped the checkbook with a single finger.

"You tell me. How much do you think it costs to keep you fed? Write whatever you want."

I picked up the pen, hesitated for a moment, and then scrawled a series of numbers.

Nathaniel took it, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Thirty... million?"

I gave a proud, defiant nod.

He leaned back against the plush sofa, lighting a cigarette with a flick of a silver lighter.

He took a long drag and gestured to one of his men.

A moment later, a line of them stood before me, each holding a silver briefcase.

They snapped them open.

They were filled to the brim with cash.

Nathaniel blew a perfect smoke ring.

"There's your thirty million. Now, come home with me."

He stood, took my wrist in his firm grip, and led me out of the club.

I thought I'd hit the jackpot, that I'd somehow landed a man like Nathaniel Bennett.

Until I found the paintings in his studio.

In his spare time, Nathaniel painted.

His studio was on the third floor of his mansion, a place strictly off-limits to everyone.

But my cat, startled by a sudden noise, had darted up the stairs, and I went after it.

My sister and I were identical twins.

The only difference was the small, red beauty mark at the corner of her right eye, like a permanent teardrop.

The moment I pushed open the studio door, I understood.

I was just her substitute.

It all made sense now.

Why, whenever he was drunk, he would pin me beneath him, his fingers tracing the lines of my face, my eyebrows, my eyes, whispering, "So beautiful... especially your eyes."

I backed out of the room, my heart a cold, heavy stone in my chest.

Should I demand more money?

Or should I just keep playing the part of his pretty, caged bird?

I realized I didn't want either.

For once in my life, I was going to be strong.

I was going to dump Nathaniel Bennett.

I was going to show this prince that he was nothing more than a toy to me, to be discarded when I grew bored.

That night, I was uncharacteristically passionate.

I straddled his hips, looking down at the taut lines of his muscles, the flush that colored his cheeks.

I leaned down, cupped his face in my hands, and kissed his slick, swollen lips.

When we were done, I got dressed and tossed a photograph onto the bed.

"He's back," I said, my voice cool.

"I won't be coming here anymore. I don't want him to get the wrong idea."

Nathaniel, lounging against the pillows, snatched up the photo.

His face was a mask of disbelief.

The man in the picture was Ethan Carter.

The boy who had convinced his powerful grandfather to adopt me, to give me a chance at life.

He'd been studying abroad, and in his absence, the Carter family had cast me out.

But now he was back, and my loyalty, my life, belonged to him.

Nathaniel's voice was a roar as he lunged forward, grabbing my shoulders.

"Grace, you fucking used me as a stand-in?"

My gaze was steady.

"So what if I did? What are you going to do, kill me?"

"You think I wouldn't dare?"

But he didn't. He couldn't. Even with the cold metal of a gun pressed to my temple, I didn't flinch.

He saw the resolve in my eyes and finally, with a guttural snarl, he told me to get out.

I slammed the door behind me without a backward glance.

To force me to come crawling back, he froze the thirty-million-dollar account.

I was young and naive; I didn't understand the power of money yet.

My defiance lasted a month.

Then I found out I was pregnant.

The doctor told me that due to a medical condition, this might be my only chance to have a child.

I had to think carefully.

And I wanted this baby, this person who would be a part of me, more than anything.

But I knew I couldn't support a child on my own.

So I went back to Nathaniel.

I proposed a deal: I would carry the baby to term, and he would raise it.

He agreed, but with one cold condition: he would never, ever tell the child who its mother was.

I knew I had wounded his pride.

He hated me.

The day I went into labor, Nathaniel was in a meeting overseas.

I was on the delivery table, pain tearing through me, and I screamed into the phone at him.

"You bastard! You promised you'd be here! Where the hell are you? Aaargh!"

The contractions warped my voice.

On the other end of the line, I could hear the panic in his.

"But you're not due for another week! Don't be scared, I'm coming back! Right now!"

He wasn't lying.

He was there in four hours, having chartered a private jet.

He changed into scrubs and rushed into the delivery room just as the baby was crowning.

I was delirious with pain.

I grabbed his arm, squeezed with all my might, and with one final push, she was born.

The sound of a baby's cry cut through the sterile silence of the room.

The nurse brought her to me.

A girl.

Nathaniel had a name chosen for her: Sophie.

It meant honor, light.

A vibrant, thriving life.

When he brought her into my room to say goodbye, the news was on the TV.

A breaking story about an assassination attempt on Ethan Carter at the airport.

I stared at the screen, my hand frozen on the remote.

Nathaniel snatched it from me and turned off the TV.

"You're supposed to be resting. No more screens."

I ignored him.

He had unfrozen my account and handed me another check.

"This is for your services. You are never to speak of the fact that you are my child's mother to anyone."

I looked at the number.

Fifty million dollars.

He must have truly loved this child to be so generous.

That, at least, brought me some peace.

Sophie would be better off with the Bennetts than with me.

I was free to go and pledge my life to Ethan Carter.

Ethan Carter, the eldest grandson of the powerful Carter family patriarch.

Orphaned at a young age, he had been raised by his grandfather.

With a weak mother and a pack of greedy uncles and cousins circling like vultures, he was constantly under threat.

When I was in the orphanage, on the verge of being assaulted by the predatory director, it was Ethan who had pointed me out, who had insisted his grandfather adopt me, saving me from a horrific fate.

I was a weapon, forged by the old man for his grandson's protection.

After giving birth, I went back to Ethan's side.

On paper, I was his executive assistant.

In reality, I was his human shield.

For five years, I took bullets for him, thwarted assassination attempts, and lived on the edge.

The worst time, I threw myself in front of a car meant for him.

I was sent flying, and a shard of glass from the shattered windshield sliced across my face, leaving a permanent scar.

But Ethan was generous.

Every time I risked my life, he paid me handsomely.

I had saved a small fortune over the years, enough to buy my own apartment in the heart of the city.

I thought this was my life, that I would be bound to Ethan forever.

But then, he got married.

To my old nemesis.

Nathaniel's sister, Victoria Scott.

At a company retreat, Victoria, with all the employees as her audience, pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me.

"Grace, you're not married yet, are you? I have an idea. How about I set you up with my brother?"

She paused for dramatic effect.

"I know he only has the intelligence of a three-year-old, but that shouldn't stop you from sleeping with him. And who knows, if you manage to produce a son for the Bennett family, you might just secure your future!"

The room erupted in laughter.

It was common knowledge that Nathaniel, the once-brilliant star of the Bennett dynasty, had been reduced to a child after a tragic car accident a year ago.

He couldn't even feed himself, let alone father a child.

Everyone knew what this was.

The new Mrs. Carter was publicly humiliating her husband's loyal bodyguard.

I looked at Ethan, who stood beside his wife, his arm around her waist.

Only he could decide my fate.

As if reading my mind, he finally spoke, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

"Honestly, you and my idiot brother-in-law are a perfect match. You've got that scar on your face; he won't care that you're ugly."

He leaned in, a conspiratorial smirk on his lips.

"He does have a kid, though. You don't mind being a stepmom, do you?"

The laughter grew louder, more cruel.

A colleague, eager to suck up to the new boss's wife, chimed in.

"Go on, Grace, say yes! You're almost thirty anyway. You're probably barren by now."

"Yeah, and even if he is a simpleton, Mr. Bennett is still gorgeous. More than a freak like you deserves!"

I remained silent, my eyes fixed on Ethan.

I was still waiting.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face.

"I know what you want," he said, his voice low.

"Don't worry. I'll arrange for your sister to be brought back to the country. As long as you succeed in getting pregnant with my brother-in-law's child, I guarantee she'll be safe."

"Fine," I said.

Then I turned to Victoria.

"Give me your brother's number."

She stared at me, a calculating look in her eyes.

After a moment, she rattled off a number.

I dialed it.

The phone was answered on the first ring.

"Wifey!"

A slightly slurred, childish voice came through the speaker, and a sudden hush fell over the room.

Whispers broke out.

"Oh my god, is Grace actually involved with him?"

"He called her wifey! Maybe she's really going to marry into the Bennett family!"

Victoria snorted.

"My brother's an idiot. He calls everyone who dials that number wifey."

The tension broke.

The laughter returned, mocking and cruel.

I pressed the phone tighter to my ear.

"Nathaniel, where are you? I'm coming to find you."

My colleagues whooped and hollered.

Even Ethan sat up a little straighter, his eyes narrowed.

Victoria watched him, her expression hardening with resentment towards me.

"I'm at home, wifey!"

Nathaniel's voice chirped happily.

"I bought your favorite chocolate!"

"Okay. Wait for me."

I hung up, stood, and faced Ethan.

"Don't forget your promise. I'm leaving."

Then, under the stunned gazes of everyone in the room, I grabbed my bag and walked out.

"Holy crap, she's actually doing it. She's going for the simpleton."

"Well, he's still rich and handsome..."

"Everyone, quiet down!"

Ethan snapped, slamming his hand on the table.

Victoria tugged on his sleeve.

"Honey, what's wrong? This was our plan..."