Right before her stood Frederick Fairfax: tousled silver hair, black bathrobe carelessly draped open, and those inky eyes darkened to a sultry haze from that recent kiss, barely restrained desire simmering beneath their surface. His lips, thin and inviting, curved enticingly; temptation in the flesh.

What a pity.

She was deep into her third trimester now.

Tonight, mundane cravings held no sway over her.

Frederick Fairfax lowered his head. “Honey, I didn’t win an award today.”

“Useless~” she teased.

“I thought you’d comfort me. Where’s that passionate love you used to shower on me?”

“Wasn’t that kiss just now passionate enough?”

He seemed to savor the memory, a smile curving at his lips as he edged closer in the charged air between them.

Olivia Young pressed her hand over his mouth. “Why not go dig up our prenuptial agreement and see what it says?”

Frederick Fairfax caught her wrist, his fingertips tracing her skin softly. “So the prenup only binds me, not you?”

“I always ask for your opinion.”

He had, indeed, just kissed her without checking in first.

He assumed something like that should come as naturally as breathing.

Frederick Fairfax tried to grasp this: "You don’t want to?"

She shot back, "What kind of tone is that? Just because you want to kiss me, I have to agree? You’ve turned me down plenty of times—can’t I do the same?" She pushed his handsome face aside. "Frederick Fairfax, tides turn, ever heard of karma?"

He scoffed. "Please, like I’m desperate for a kiss!" He got up with a flourish.

Olivia Young just smiled, not bothering to argue.

Right, right. He didn’t care for a kiss at all.

Frederick Fairfax stalked around to the foot of the bed and flopped down in a huff.

Because of the pregnancy pillow, Olivia Young dominated two-thirds of the big bed, leaving him a meager one-third. For a man of his stature, it was downright pitiful.

Logically, he should have retreated to the guestroom next door. But he didn’t.

With all those people outside eyeing his wife, and only one chance a month to be home—he had every intention of sleeping beside her.

Once Olivia Young drifted off, he quietly snuck beneath her comforter, pressed close to her, and gently cupped her pregnant belly.

He got it. He understood why Olivia Young was acting this way.

Women—they certainly knew how to keep men on their toes.

Come-hither, push-away: the classic push-pull.

Olivia Young was good with her hands for sure.

And by virtue of being pregnant, she totally had him wrapped around her finger. He couldn’t do anything about it—just danced to her tune.

The next morning, Olivia Young woke groggy, belly heavy and awkward to roll over, not wanting to get up but already a bit hungry.

Ah~ She genuinely admired women who kept working all through pregnancy. Those women were true superwomen. The country ought to hand out mandatory rewards. You want a higher birth rate? Start with proper bonuses!

Suddenly, someone crossed her line of sight. He stripped off a black athletic top one-handed, revealing skin shockingly pale—and those broad shoulders, narrow waist, and lifted hips, his body lines a thing of legend. Was that what people meant by a ‘wolfish waist’?

Decent waist, she admitted.

Too bad his skills were awful!

All clumsy bravado, nothing else.

Frederick Fairfax was flirting in the early morning—had he forgotten she was pregnant?

“Peeking at me, are you?”

Frederick Fairfax shielded his chest with his shirt. “Olivia Young, the prenup says no peeking.”

“Does it?” she countered.

“I’ll add it now.”

Oh, give me a break.

“I’ve got zero interest in you. Objectively speaking, your figure is good, but it can’t compare to my kid’s father’s.” Olivia Young caressed her belly. “That body, that face… I’ve never seen a man so handsome. It was love at first sight. Lost my heart and myself in an instant.”

Frederick Fairfax’s smile vanished.

He buttoned up his shirt as he walked toward her.

Standing at the bedside, those dark, fathomless eyes bored into her, like a brewing storm sweeping a chill right through her.

He softly traced her tender cheek. "If he was so great, why is he gone? I’m not about to compete with a dead man."

But compete, he did! If only to compare.

Who looked better, but lacked skills?

Who was wailing and gasping all night, only for her to be the first one awake afterward?

It was a wild ride; now that her appetite was whet, even the slightest touch made her sensitive.

Frederick Fairfax left the bedroom, pulling out his phone as he went. "Ian Hope, I want you to find out who Olivia Young was close to abroad—who’s the father of her child, the one who’s supposedly dead?"

She praised that man to the skies. He had to see if he really was all that, or if it was just Olivia Young’s rose-tinted glasses. Once someone was gone, the whole world seemed to idolize him—including Olivia Young herself.

It had to be her imagination.

Even if such a flawless man had actually existed—well, tough luck for him. He died before he could marry Olivia Young, never even saw the birth of his own child.

Thinking it that way, the poor guy really did draw the short straw.

After all, he was the one raising the kid. Was it really so excessive to want to know who the man was? What he looked like? Hardly.

Frederick Fairfax kept reassuring himself as he skipped breakfast and went straight to the office.

He stayed in all day.

The winter smog outside Beijing was impenetrable, a heavy gray gloom.

Ian Hope entered the office. "Boss, we haven’t found any likely candidates around Madam yet, but I did notice something odd." He handed over a tablet.

"In the five years Madam spent abroad, she booked over a hundred flights for homecomings. Not a single one made it. Some flights took off, but had to turn back or make emergency landings elsewhere."

Over a hundred failed attempts to return home?

Was that even possible?

Could anyone be that unlucky?

"Madam could go anywhere but Beijing. Even when she tried connecting through other airports, it never worked. It’s strange."

For the first time, Ian Hope felt as though some invisible hand was pulling the strings.

Five years. Hundreds of attempts. Who could orchestrate that?

"Think it was the Fairfax family?" Frederick Fairfax scrolled through the flight records.

He could hardly imagine the life she’d led those five years. How did she cope?

To have a home, and not be allowed to return. Trapped abroad all that time. Made into everyone’s impossible perfect love (the ‘white moonlight’ legend).

"Boss, I really can’t guess." Ian Hope admitted. "Feels like something out of a fantasy novel."

She longed to come home; some of her flight bookings were only a day apart. And yet, she couldn’t return. But why?

A heavy ache pressed against Frederick Fairfax’s chest. Sad, suffocating.

"I told you to look into her relationships abroad, not this!" Frederick Fairfax put down the tablet. "She unpopular over there or something?"

Ian Hope shook his head fervently, "No, not at all. Madam was very popular—lots of admirers. She just didn’t seem interested in foreigners. She seems to prefer people from back home."

"So the guy was a Chinese student studying abroad?"

"Haven’t found proof. Can’t confirm yet."

"Then go dig it up! Don’t bring me any more useless details." Frederick Fairfax tapped the tablet.

"Understood!"

Ian Hope turned to leave, but Frederick Fairfax stopped him with a gesture. Ian Hope caught on, wisely leaving the tablet behind as he exited empty-handed.

Once the office door clicked shut, Frederick Fairfax picked up the tablet again, gaze darkening with suspicion.

Something was very wrong. Five years, and she could never return home? It made no sense at all.