Chapter 1 The Beginning

Belle's POV: I'm Belle Harmon, a 20-year-old with a loving older sister and an adoring boyfriend. While I grew up without parents, my sister has always been there for me. And now, after a whirlwind three-month romance, my boyfriend proposed, saying that marrying me would be the best thing he's ever done. I thought I was going to be a happy bride, filled with the excitement of our wedding and dreams of a sweet life together. However, my world came crashing down on our wedding night when I discovered my groom was gay. To make matters even worse, he and his boyfriend raped me. He raped me twice, and his boyfriend three times. I had cried myself empty, my body wracked with sobs and pain. "Belle, you need to get pregnant with our child soon," said Henry, my so-called husband. "Give us two children, and I'll set you free." "Why? If you want children, you could pay for an egg donor or use a surrogate!" I was lost and confused. He could have achieved his goal without destroying me. I had dreamed of marriage and having my own children. But now, those dreams were shattered. "That's too expensive," Henry sneered, his eyes filled with disgust. "You're just a free tool." "Exactly. Disgusting as it may be, you can still bear children," his boyfriend added, "so we'll just have to see if you get pregnant." "You're monsters! Both of you!" I screamed, but my words were met with silence. They held me captive, confiscating my phone and any means of communication. I was trapped in that room, barely kept alive with meager rations of food and water. Escaping is an impossible dream. A month later, I took a pregnancy test. It was negative. Their fury was palpable, but instead of physical violence, they resorted to a crueler tactic. They meticulously calculated my ovulation cycle, planning to repeatedly violate me. I feigned submission, playing the role of the obedient captive, even cooperating during my fertile days. This lulled them into a false sense of security, and I seized my chance. While they were preoccupied with each other, I escaped. Battered, bruised, and carrying the evidence of their assaults within me, I went to the police. But justice was not served. Henry, wielding his wealth, hired a formidable lawyer who skillfully twisted my accusations into a mere "marital discord." The legal system failed me; all I received was a divorce. After receiving the divorce certificate, I fled that very night, afraid they'd retaliate. I prayed that Henry and his boyfriend would never be able to have children. Thankfully, my prayer was answered—I still wasn't pregnant. The relief was overwhelming; I couldn't bear the thought of carrying their child. I settled in a city called Alabaster, but I couldn't start a new life. I was haunted by nightmares, unable to interact with people normally. Just seeing men made me shake with fear, except when it came to my sister and brother-in-law. When I had initially pressed charges against Henry, my sister had poured her life savings into my case. After the devastating loss, she brought me to Alabaster to help me escape. She and her husband ran a small clothing factory there. However, her husband resented her for spending their savings, forcing her to work tirelessly to repay the debt, leaving her little time to care for me. Concerned about my well-being, she suggested, "Don't you always love children? Maybe you could consider having a baby through IVF. I heard Alabaster has a reputable sperm bank." "Alright, I'll think about it." The truth was, I'd always adored children. Their presence brought me joy, a sense of light, and life. My sister's suggestion resonated with me; I wanted to move forward and ease her worries. In the year since arriving in Alabaster, I had slowly begun to heal. Nightmares still surfaced occasionally, but they no longer consumed my days. I started to rebuild my life, working diligently and saving every penny. With newfound determination, I carefully selected a donor from a reputable sperm bank. The doctor there was incredibly kind, and we developed a genuine friendship. With her support, I successfully conceived. She assured me I'd made a good choice. The sperm bank catered to many affluent individuals, some storing sperm for preservation, others contributing to infertility research. But those details were irrelevant to me. All that mattered was the donor's excellent genetic profile and the incredible news that I was expecting twins. I rented a live-work space, with a small storefront on the first floor and my living quarters upstairs. I converted the ground floor into a little bakery called Sweetheart Bakery. With my baking skills, I was confident I could provide a secure future for myself and my babies. In the blink of an eye, two years had passed, and my twins were now a year and a half old. My son is named Sunny Harmon, and my daughter is named Moona Harmon. The two little ones were starting to talk and take their first steps, absolutely adorable. Their presence filled my once-dark life with sunlight, helping me leave the pain of the past behind. Until today, when my daughter came down with a fever. "Erin Johnson," I said to the nanny, "Moona has a slight fever. Can you watch Sunny while I take her to the hospital?" "Be careful," Erin said. "It's rush hour now, so the roads are crowded." "No worries," I replied, settling my daughter into the stroller. "The hospital isn't far. I'll just take it slow." I temporarily closed the bakery downstairs and set off with the stroller. To reach the hospital, I had to cross a busy intersection. The area was packed, with schools, a residential community, and the hospital all nearby. Clunk! While turning a corner, I accidentally bumped the stroller into the back of a slowly moving car. The stroller tipped over, and the cloth bag in the storage basket fell to the ground. Keys, my phone, tissues, a bottle, diapers ... all scattered everywhere. "Waaa!" Startled, Moona opened her mouth and started crying. Flustered, I tried to soothe her while bending down to gather everything off the ground. "What, are you using your child to stage an accident?" A cold, low voice spoke, and I noticed a pair of shiny black leather shoes next to me. Looking up from the shoes, I saw long, straight legs in tailored black dress pants. Above them was an exquisite black suit jacket, and underneath it, a man who looked to be about 30. His features were striking, his gaze deep and cold like stars on a winter night. And yet ... those eyes seemed strangely familiar. The man radiated an aura of authority as he moved closer, his aloof elegance sending chills down my spine. That's when I noticed I had bumped into the back of a luxury Bentley Continental. The bumper had a nasty scrape, with a chunk of paint peeling off miserably. This damage would easily cost 2,000 or 3,000 dollars to repair. "Uh ... " I started to panic, sweat forming on my forehead. I barely even noticed the scattered items on the ground. Even Moona's cries from the stroller couldn't pull my attention away. "I'm sorry, sir. It was an accident—I didn't mean to. Please tell me how I can make this right." The man frowned, his well-defined brows furrowing, looking annoyed. "Forget it. I don't have time to deal with this." He turned to leave, but I couldn't just ignore the damage. I had caused it, after all. "Sir!" I reached out and grabbed his sleeves. "I'll pay for it. Could you leave me a number? You can send me the bill, and I'll transfer the money." He scoffed, his eyes raking over me with disdain. "It costs about 2,000 or 3,000. Are you sure you can afford me?" "I know it's around 2,000 or 3,000," I mumbled, "but that's okay. I'll pay in installments, if that's alright? Don't worry, I won't go back on my word." He looked at me for a moment, then recited a number, which I hastily saved. "I'll wait for your message." "Hmm." He replied coolly, then turned to go. Meanwhile, I stared at the stroller, realizing the wheel was bent and wouldn't budge. "Uh, sir, could you help me a bit?" I asked, trying my luck. "The wheel's damaged, and I can't push it." The man frowned, but he stepped back toward me. He looked down at the stroller's wheel, thought for a moment, then glanced up at me. "Take the child out. I'll give it a try." I scooped up my sniffling daughter, soothing her with gentle pats. Then, I watched in surprise as he effortlessly squatted down, gripped the stroller's wheel, and popped it back into place. I stared, wide-eyed. How strong was he? He made it look so easy. "Thank you so much!" I said, delighted, and hurried to pick up the scattered items. But with my daughter in my arms, I'd grab the bottle only to drop the keys, pick up the tissues only for the bag to slip from my grasp. Maybe he got fed up watching me struggle, because the man ended up helping me gather everything. I noticed he glanced at my daughter several times; he seemed to like children. And in that moment, a thought sparked in my mind—a flash of recognition. I suddenly remembered why he looked so familiar. He was Leroy Tucker! A billionaire on the Pantheon Billionaires List! He was already at the pinnacle of society, with anything he could ever want at his fingertips. But little was known about his personal life. The only detail I had was from my doctor friend, who once mentioned that he had almost no fertility. She'd also told me I had an exceptionally high fertility rate, so if it were me, I might actually be able to have a child with Leroy. Could he be the father of my twins? The idea flashed through my mind, but I immediately dismissed it. What was I even thinking? A man of his status would never deposit sperm in a public bank. Even if he had, there's no way I would have been able to buy it for just 3,000 dollars.