One Night, One Baby

Through a single wall, Priscilla Medici could hear her fiancé, Preston Coleman, having sex with another woman.

Moans and vulgar words filled the room, making her stomach turn with disgust.

And that woman was none other than Quinlan Medici—the imposter who had stolen her identity for over twenty years!

Rage boiled inside Priscilla as she shoved the door open. The couple on the bed, lost in their passion, hadn't even heard her enter. They even continued their lovemaking right in front of her.

Before Priscilla could step fully into the room, a hand clamped over her mouth while another grabbed her hair roughly, dragging her away.

A vial of liquid was forced between her lips, compelling her to swallow.

Terror gripped her heart as Priscilla struggled desperately, but the strength difference made resistance futile.

Finally forced to swallow the liquid, she coughed and demanded, "Who are you?"

Remembering the text message she'd received an hour ago, she immediately realized, "Quinlan sent you!"

"This is the latest developed aphrodisiac, guaranteed to make you feel incredible. Enjoy it, Ms. Medici." The person did't answer, grinning wickedly as they pushed her into another room and closed the door.

What would happen next was obvious.

Hayden Smith, who had been waiting inside, lit up at the sight of Priscilla. "Well, well... they've sent me quite the beauty. Don't worry, I'll take very good care of you."

Priscilla tried to escape, but to her horror, the drug was already taking effect. An inexplicable heat ignited in her lower abdomen, burning away her rationality.

With nowhere to run, she could only warn him, "Stay back! I'm the heiress of the Medici family. If you touch me, the Medicis won't let you get away with it!"

"The Medicis only have one heiress, and you're nothing but a plaything." Hayden sneered, reaching out to touch Priscilla's face. "Relax, I promise I'll be gentle—I'll make you feel things you've never felt before."

"Get away from me!"

When Hayden lunged at her, Priscilla gritted her teeth and kicked him square between the legs with all her strength.

Hayden let out a pig-like squeal of agony and collapsed to the floor.

"You fucking bitch! You'll pay for that!" He howled.

Seizing the opportunity, Priscilla yanked the door open and ran.

Her face had already flushed an unnatural red, and she bit her tongue hard to maintain what little clarity she had left.

The drug was taking full effect—she had to get out of there fast.

Priscilla sprinted forward, glancing back occasionally to see if Hayden was following her.

The next moment, she crashed straight into a broad, powerful chest.

The man's cologne—a cold, intoxicating sandalwood scent—enveloped her senses, intensifying the already raging effects of the drug in her system.

Her mind was spinning in a haze.

Algernon Visconti, also fighting the effects of a similar drug, frowned and asked in a deep voice, "Another woman trying to climb the social ladder?"

"No," Priscilla managed to reply.

She was now pressed against his body, wanting to pull away but lacking the strength.

Or perhaps she didn't want to move away at all.

This man's body seemed to have a cooling effect on her. Just leaning against him reduced the burning sensation inside her, and she couldn't help but crave more of that relief.

Algernon's voice was low and sharp, "What? I'll give you a million dollars to spend the night with me."

Priscilla could no longer form a complete sentence. Her body went limp, and the next moment, Algernon picked her up and tossed her onto the large bed.

At the same time, he threw out a provocatively dressed woman who had been in the room.

An avalanche of kisses descended upon her, along with the heat of his body against hers. Priscilla instinctively raised her arms to embrace him.

Algernon's hands roamed over her body, igniting flames everywhere they touched, completely obliterating Priscilla's last shred of reason.

The drug took full effect, and she surrendered with Algernon to the ocean of desire.

The night stretched on endlessly.

When Priscilla finally woke up, it was already morning.

Every inch of her body ached as if she'd been run over by a truck.

Her beautiful skin was covered in telling bruises, evidence of just how intense the previous night had been.

The last thing she remembered was being carried into the room by Algernon.

Priscilla trembled as she picked up her nearly shredded clothes from the floor, glancing at the still-sleeping Algernon.

He was facing away from her. Priscilla clenched her fists tightly.

She had no time to think further and hastily left.

Half an hour later, Algernon slowly opened his eyes.

He looked at the scratch marks on his chest, rubbing his aching temples as his deep eyes flashed with cold intensity.

He never imagined that someone would dare use such underhanded, dirty tactics on him.

And succeed.

Algernon grabbed the phone from the nightstand and called his assistant, Aiden Williams.

"Bring me a clean set of clothes to the room."

Soon, Aiden knocked on the door and nervously addressed his visibly displeased boss, "Mr. Visconti, we've confirmed it was your dinner companion, Cleo Johnson, who had inappropriate intentions. She's been dealt with. Should we investigate the woman from last night?"

"No need," Algernon replied, his brows furrowed.

The drugs hadn't erased his memory.

The woman who had suddenly appeared had deliberately crashed into his arms.

Perhaps she was working with Cleo, or maybe she had her own agenda to seduce him. How could she not know his identity?

He had been burning with desire at the time, and though he hadn't clearly seen her face, she had given him the impression of being clean and innocent.

So he had chosen her, throwing Cleo out of the room.

"She'll come forward herself to claim her payment," Algernon said with contempt and sarcasm.

He took the clothes from Aiden and was about to get up for a shower when he noticed a splash of bright red blood on the white sheets. His pupils contracted, and his expression grew complicated.

After a brief moment of shock, he said in a low voice, "Actually, look into her after all."

"Yes, Mr. Visconti."

Priscilla dragged her exhausted body home, only to be greeted by her mother Bianca Martinez's furious scolding and a shower of photographs thrown at her face.

"Priscilla, have you no shame left?"

There were dozens of photos, hitting her face like slaps.

Priscilla was stunned, but when she saw the contents of the photos, the color drained from her face.

The photos were taken from a voyeuristic angle, showing a man and woman intimately entwined.

The woman was her, and the man was Hayden from the room yesterday!

"What is the meaning of these photos?" She asked in disbelief.

Bianca glared at her with gritted teeth, "You have the nerve to ask? How could you be so cheap, going out to seduce Mr. Smith? If these photos get out, the Medici family will be ruined forever!"

"No, that's not what happened."