CHAPTER 1: The Wedding She Never Wanted

"Selena, please, finish your food. The baby needs to eat. Have some pity on the little one—our baby has no understanding of our problems," Marshal pleaded for what felt like the hundredth time, his voice gentle but firm as he gestured toward the untouched, now cold meal in front of her. 

Selena sat across from him, looking frailer than ever. Her once vibrant figure had diminished, and her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. Her face was pale and drawn, and her trembling gaze seemed fixed on some distant point, as though lost in an endless sea of grief. 

"How about I feed you?" Marshal asked softly, his patience unwavering. 

Selena didn't respond. She sat in silence, her vacant eyes staring ahead, as though he wasn't even there. Marshal let out a quiet sigh, his heart aching to see her like this. He pulled out a chair and sat down beside her, his movements slow and deliberate. He knew his wife was still struggling, still unable to accept what had happened. But no matter how difficult things were, Marshal was determined to keep the promise he had made. 

"Selena," he began gently, reaching for her delicate, trembling hand. "Please, listen to me. The baby needs you to eat, to stay strong. The baby needs to grow healthy inside you." 

Her hand felt cold in his, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she turned her head slightly, her voice hollow as she whispered, "Just go. Leave me alone." 

Marshal's heart sank, but he refused to let go. 

"Selena, please don't do this to yourself. Don't punish yourself like this," he said softly, his voice laced with both love and desperation. "None of this should have ever happened. It's not your fault." 

"Shut up!" Selena suddenly screamed, her voice cracking as the dam holding back her emotions finally broke. Her tears spilled freely now, streaking her pale cheeks. 

Marshal flinched but didn't move away. Instead, he stayed close, his hand still holding hers. He knew her anger wasn't truly aimed at him—it was the pain, the guilt, the unbearable weight of everything they'd been through. 

And though her words stung, Marshal remained steadfast. Because no matter how broken Selena felt, he wasn't going to give up on her. Or their baby.

Marshal clenched his jaw, nodding slightly as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He stayed by Selena's side, his hand still gripping hers, even as she suddenly yanked her hand away. His heart jolted when she reached for the bread knife resting on the plate in front of her.

"Selena, what are you doing?!" Marshal's voice cracked, a mix of shock and fear gripping him.

Her hollow eyes burned with a chaotic mix of anguish and fury as she hissed, "I hate you! I hate this bloody baby!" 

Her hands trembled as she pointed the knife toward her own wrist, her movements both frantic and deliberate.

Marshal's breath caught in his throat. Panic surged through him, but he forced himself to stay calm. 

"Selena, no! What are you doing? Don't—don't be reckless!" His voice broke as he reached out, trying to take the knife from her.

"Let go, Marshal!" Selena screamed, her voice raw and full of despair. Tears streamed down her face, her whole frame shaking violently. "I want to die! Let go of me! Just let me go!"

"No," Marshal said firmly, his tone low but resolute as his hand wrapped around hers, steady but unyielding. "That's not going to happen, Selena. Give me the knife. Now." 

"I can't do this, Marshal! I can't! I don't want this baby—I don't want any of it!" Her grip tightened on the handle, her knuckles turning white as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Marshal's own heart was breaking, but he refused to let her see it. 

He leaned closer, his voice a desperate whisper. "Selena, listen to me. You're not thinking straight. You're hurting, I know you are, but this isn't the way. Please, put the knife down."

Her body shuddered as she tried to pull away, but Marshal's grip didn't falter. 

"You shouldn't be so careless, Selena," he murmured, his voice trembling despite his effort to sound composed. "Even if you don't want this baby, even if you hate me, you can't do this to yourself. Use your mind, Selena. Don't let the pain control you."

Selena froze for a moment, her teary gaze meeting his. There was a flicker of something—hesitation, perhaps, or maybe just exhaustion. Marshal seized the moment, gently but firmly prying the knife from her trembling hand. It clattered onto the table, the sound echoing through the heavy silence that followed.

Selena collapsed into sobs, her body folding in on itself as Marshal pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly, his own tears threatening to fall as he whispered, "I'm here, Selena. No matter how hard this gets, I'm here. I'm not giving up on you, and I'm not giving up on us."

The room fell quiet, save for the sound of Selena's muffled cries and Marshal's steady reassurances. It was a small, fragile moment, but it was enough—for now.

Marshal's thoughts drifted to the darkest corner of his past, a night that shattered his life into pieces he'd never be able to fully put back together.

That night, everything changed. It was supposed to be just another ordinary evening—he and his mates had stayed late on campus, shooting hoops and laughing until the stars hung high in the sky. The air was cool, and the campus grounds were quiet as he walked alone through the dimly lit parking gates, his basketball slung lazily under one arm. 

But then he heard it—a scream. A sharp, piercing cry that seemed to come from the old, abandoned storage building near the edge of campus. His blood ran cold. For a moment, he froze, his mind racing. Every fibre of his being told him to turn around, to leave, to pretend he hadn't heard anything. But he couldn't. Something about that scream pulled him forward, compelled him to investigate. 

He never could have imagined what awaited him inside. 

That night was a trap—a cruel, calculated scheme that dragged him into a nightmare he couldn't escape. Selena Everhart was there. Sweet, innocent Selena, the girl who always wore her heart on her sleeve, who had confessed her feelings to him more times than he could count, though he had never felt the same. She was the one caught up in this twisted game, and he realised too late that someone—someone wicked beyond comprehension—had orchestrated it all to make it look like he was the monster. 

Selena had been kidnapped, assaulted, and broken, and Marshal had been framed as the perpetrator. The golden boy of campus, the one everyone looked up to, had plummeted to the lowest depths of disgrace. His name was dragged through the mud, his reputation obliterated. 

But the worst part—the part that haunted him every day—was that Selena bore the brunt of it all. She was the one who suffered the most, the one who had to carry the scars, both seen and unseen. 

And then came the revelation that had knocked the breath out of him entirely. Selena was pregnant. Pregnant with his child. He had been so sure it wasn't possible, so desperate for a shred of hope that he wasn't as entangled in this nightmare as it seemed. But the DNA didn't lie—the baby was his. 

It didn't matter that he hadn't loved her, that his heart had always belonged to Yvonne Ravenshire, his fiancée, the woman he'd been promised to since childhood for the sake of their families' business empires. None of it mattered anymore. What mattered was the life growing inside Selena, a life he was responsible for, no matter how twisted the circumstances. 

But Selena refused him. She rejected his every attempt to make things right, to offer her some semblance of stability in the wreckage of their lives. She called him a hypocrite, a fraud, a cruel man who had ruined her future. And maybe she wasn't wrong. 

Marshal tried to convince her, time and time again, to marry him—not out of love, but out of duty. He owed her that much. But Selena remained steadfast, her pride refusing to let her accept his offer. 

Until the whispers started. 

The world around her, the cruel, judgemental world, turned its gaze on Selena. People murmured behind her back, calling her names.

A "fallen woman."

A "shameless harlot."

A "disgrace."

Her every move was scrutinised, her very existence condemned. It didn't matter what the truth was—society had already decided her fate. And the pressure... it was suffocating. 

At first, Selena tried to stand tall, to weather the storm with her head held high. But every glance, every whisper, every pointed finger chipped away at her resolve. The weight of it all became unbearable, and eventually, she found herself standing in front of Marshal, tears streaming down her face. 

"Fine," she said, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and resignation. "Fine, Marshal. I'll marry you. Is that what you want to hear? Is that what the world wants from me?" 

Marshal's chest tightened. This wasn't how he wanted it to be. He hadn't wanted to force her hand, to make her feel trapped. But he also knew he couldn't let her face this alone. He stepped closer, his voice soft but firm. 

"This isn't about what the world wants, Selena," he said, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her tear-streaked face. "It's about what you need. About what the baby needs. I'll do everything I can to make this right. I swear it." 

Selena looked at him, her eyes filled with a storm of emotions—anger, pain, fear, and maybe, buried deep beneath it all, a flicker of hope. She didn't respond, but she didn't pull away either. 

And now, Selena was so broken, so unbearably crushed by the weight of it all, that her only solace seemed to lie in the darkness of her own undoing. Her attempts… they'd grown more frequent. More desperate.

"Sorry, Selena… I'm truly sorry." That was all Marshal could muster as he hugging her, helpless, watching tears carve silent trails down her face.

Then, with trembling fingers, he reached for the small bottle he always kept within arm's reach of her meals — the pills. The ones she had to take religiously, not for herself, but for the baby growing inside her. His priority. His reason.

Perhaps it was selfish of him, the way he cared more about the unborn child than the woman breaking before his eyes. But he only ever wanted them both safe. Alive.