After Affair: I Took My Children and Remarried

"When we're done, don't forget to take the morning-after pill."

Lucius Talbot scooped Seraphine Manners into his arms, no longer holding back his desire.

He threw her roughly onto the bed, his strikingly handsome face devoid of expression, his deep-set eyes utterly cold.

His large hands tore away her clothes. Gone was Seraphine's usual gentle composure—underneath, she wore a set of provocative lingerie.

Lucius's eyes darkened, his breathing grew heavier.

It seemed to be working. Seraphine felt a flutter of satisfaction. Blushing, she hooked her arms around his neck, about to go further—when his next words made her face go pale.

"Are you really this desperate?" His gaze swept over her with contempt, his voice mocking. "Drugging me, wearing lingerie like this—you're my wife, yet you stoop to a mistress's tricks?"

Seraphine pretended not to hear. She smiled seductively. "So are you going to do this or not?"

"Why turn down a woman who throws herself at me for free?"

With that, he thrust into her without mercy.

No kisses. No caresses. Just raw, brutal release.

Her body hurt. Her heart hurt more.

Seraphine refused to look at the disgust in Lucius's eyes. She tilted her head back and kissed his lips, wrapping her legs around his waist, taking him deeper.

This was her choice. She had no one to blame.

Today was her ovulation day. It was also the third month of their cold war.

Two years of marriage, and they'd had sex only a handful of times.

Even drugged with the aphrodisiac she'd slipped into his drink, Lucius had held out until the breaking point before touching her.

Her lingering kiss ignited his lust. He took control, his tongue sliding past her lips, tangling with hers.

Their breaths mingled—faint tobacco, cologne, and a thread of coldness.

She loved the scent of Lucius. She loved him. She would've been content with a platonic marriage for the rest of her life.

But yesterday, Lucius's mother had informed her with haughty arrogance:

"Seraphine, you shameless thief. You stole twenty-four years of Elsie's life. The position of Lucius's wife belongs to the real Manners daughter. Now that Elsie's back, you—the fake—should get out."

Everyone wanted Seraphine gone. They wanted to hand Lucius, and the title of his wife, back to Elsie.

The truth was, Lucius had been tired of her for a long time.

This marriage had been a mistake from the start. He resented all business marriages because of his parents' loveless arrangement. His arranged wife, Seraphine, disgusted him to the bone.

Now that Elsie was back, he had the perfect excuse to leave her.

She had to get pregnant with Lucius's child before the Talbot family threw her out.

It was her obsession. Her only bargaining chip.

After what felt like hours, the frenzied sex finally ended.

Seraphine lay exhausted, unable to lift a finger. Lucius showed no lingering affection. He strode into the bathroom on long legs.

The sound of running water echoed—as if he were washing away something filthy.

Did he think she was dirty?

Seraphine stared blankly at his tall shadow cast on the glass door, her heart desolate.

Two years ago, in the countryside—that had been the happiest time of her life.

Lucius had suffered from a rare illness then. He'd been blind and paralyzed.

Though he couldn't see, he'd been infinitely gentle with her.

He would fumble to brush her hair, trace her features with rough fingertips, asking over and over, "What do you look like? You must be beautiful."

On cold winter nights, he'd hold her close and promise, "When I'm better, I'll marry you properly. I'll give you the best happiness in the world."

But now? Without the drug, he wouldn't touch her. With it, she was just a tool for his release.

Lucius emerged wrapped in a towel, his short hair still dripping. Water droplets traced the defined lines of his abs, disappearing at the V of his hips.

"Your mother said Elsie's back—that she's the real Manners heir, the one you should've married. What do you think?"

Seraphine's voice was soft. She stared at him intently, desperate for his answer.

Lucius pulled on his shirt, buttoning it slowly, each movement deliberate, exuding an inherent nobility. He didn't acknowledge her.

Her heart sank with each passing second.

Finally, he fastened his last cufflink. His face had returned to its usual coldness, as if the intense sex had never happened.

He glanced at her with icy indifference, his voice frigid. "Mistakes should be corrected."

Without another word, he grabbed his suit jacket and walked out.

The door slammed shut with a heavy thud, severing Seraphine's last shred of hope.

Her heart felt crushed.

He'd admitted it without hesitation.

She'd schemed, drugged him, worn lingerie to seduce him—all to have his child. And he was thinking about how to correct his mistake and replace his wife?

Seraphine sat on the bed in a daze. After a long while, she slowly lowered her head, her palm covering her still-flat stomach.

A crazed obsession burned in her eyes.

Lucius, you'll repay what you owe me with a child.

One month later.

Seraphine stared at the two bright red lines on the pregnancy test. Her anxious heart finally settled.

Over the past month, she'd become a different person.

She stopped carefully trying to please Lucius. Stopped waiting anxiously for scraps of affection.

She abandoned shyness and propriety. She was bold, shameless, using every means to cling to him.

Maybe it was her sheer audacity. At first, Lucius would push her away impatiently. But eventually, he didn't need much seduction at all.

He'd grip her waist hard, saying cruel things—but never holding back physically.

A month of madness, and she was finally pregnant. She could stay by his side now!

Overjoyed, Seraphine prepared to tell Lucius the news.

She'd just stepped out of the villa when she saw the familiar black Rolls-Royce parked in front.

The door opened. Lucius stepped out.

He wasn't wearing a suit today—just a casual gray cashmere sweater that softened his hard features.

But that softness wasn't for her.

A woman in a white dress emerged from the car, linking her arm intimately through his.

Elsie Manners. The real Manners heiress, swapped at birth with Seraphine.

Lucius was saying something to Elsie, his lips curved in a rare smile.

It was a patience and tenderness Seraphine had never seen.

So he wasn't naturally cold. He just refused to give her even a fraction of his warmth.

Faint marks dotted Elsie's neck—kiss marks. Glaringly obvious. Any adult could tell what they'd done last night.

Seraphine smiled bitterly.

Lucius hadn't come home last night. He'd been with Elsie.

The truth was brutal. No matter how hard she tried, she was the one being discarded.

If they found out she was pregnant, they'd force her to abort.