Chapter 1: Moonlight, Lies, and a Proposal

My dad says I’m marrying the mayor’s son—like it’s a done deal, like my life is just another line in his ledger.

To get out of the engagement, I disguised myself as a broke college grad and slipped into the orbit of the guy everyone whispered about—the ice king, Ethan Lane. Aloof, untouchable, perfect for a plan that needed zero feelings.

We tangled together in a shabby rented apartment, losing ourselves in reckless pleasure, both of us pretending it was just for the night, or maybe the week.

When I finally managed to get pregnant, I left him some cash and ran away. Clean break, or so I thought.

But when I showed up back home, belly swollen and ready to end the engagement, the man I’d paid to disappear stood at my front door in a tailored suit, his presence coiling through the entryway like smoke.

His eyes burned with a possessiveness that bordered on obsession as he stepped toward me, hand outstretched, palm pressed to my stomach.

"Five hundred grand isn’t enough to buy my child."

He smiled, slow and cold. "My dear... fiancée."

---

In the dim light of our rundown apartment, moonlight spilled across Ethan Lane’s broad back. Red marks crisscrossed his skin—evidence of last night, messy and unmistakable.

The old radiator clanked in the corner, barely fighting off the October chill. A half-eaten pizza box sat on the coffee table, and the faded Red Sox blanket we fought over was bunched at the foot of the bed. The mattress sagged beneath me as I propped myself up, watching city lights flicker through the cracked window.

He stood shirtless by the window, lighting a cigarette. Smoke curled around his face, but his voice cut through it: "Maddie."

He turned, exhaling, his eyes fixed on me. "Will you marry me, Maddie?"

My heart did a weird, traitorous flip. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to be in control. But his voice—soft, almost desperate—made it hard to breathe.

Still dazed, I heard his words but didn’t react right away. I blinked in confusion. "What?"

Ethan looked at me, gentler than usual. He repeated, "Say you’ll marry me."

His tone was softer than his usual ice—almost pleading, and it held a weight that made my chest ache. I noticed the cigarette trembling between his fingers, his only tell that he was nervous.

Now I was fully snapped back to reality. Deep down, I was shocked, but I kept my face calm, refusing to let him see how much his words shook me.

I beckoned him over. Ethan stubbed out his cigarette, walked to me, and took my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

I could feel the roughness of his lips, the gentle pressure, the way his thumb traced lazy circles over my skin. Part of me wanted to melt.

I chose my words carefully. "I think things are pretty good the way they are now."

Ethan paused. The hope in his eyes faded fast, replaced by a shadow.

He bit my index finger, like he was punishing me, and I frowned in pain. Instantly, he let go and took my finger into his mouth, soothing it gently.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden tenderness—he always swung between tough and soft, and that was his charm.

...

On the surface, Ethan seemed cold, even gentle, refined. But beneath that calm exterior, he hid a twisted, possessive streak.

It was the kind of trait that would terrify my mom if she ever met him. Thankfully, his family background was just normal enough. Otherwise, I’d never be able to get away.

I pouted and started acting pitiful. "You know my family situation. I even had to take out loans for tuition. Now that I’ve just graduated, I just want to work hard and make some money."

Ethan looked up at me, a trace of pressure and displeasure in his gaze.

"What about me?"

"Seems like I’m not in your plans."

My heart trembled, and I rushed to explain: "Of course you are. When we have money in the future and buy a big house, then we can get married."

I tried to keep my tone light, teasing, but the truth pressed hard against my chest. "Ethan, I want to earn a lot of money. Only money can give me a sense of security."

I hated lying to him. But telling the truth—about my family, about the engagement—felt even worse.

The persona I put on in front of him was that of a broke girl obsessed with money.

Ethan stroked my cheek, speaking slowly:

"Then what if I have a lot of money?"

His eyes were pitch black, dead serious. For a moment, I was caught off guard.

I smiled. "Then give me all your money, and I’ll marry you."

"So do you love me, or do you love money?"

He said it with a crooked grin, but there was real hurt underneath. For a second, I wondered if I’d gone too far.

...

What’s up with Ethan tonight? Why so serious?

The mood in the room was suddenly too heavy, so I didn’t want to keep talking about this. I tugged his hand to bring him closer.

"Ethan, I still want to..."

The next second, his mouth was on mine, stealing the words away.

Ethan was relentless. No matter how I cried or begged, it was useless.

He pressed me back into the pillows, his hands everywhere, insistent and desperate. There was a wildness in him tonight, something I’d never seen before.

In the end, I passed out.

Just before I lost consciousness, I thought I heard him murmur:

"Why can’t you love me?"

His words echoed in my dreams, haunting and sad.