The sun was unforgiving, casting a golden hue over the garden as I languished in the lap of luxury—if you could even call it that.
Maids fluttered around me like overzealous butterflies, one fanning me while another adjusted the cushions beneath me as if my comfort was the axis upon which their world spun.
Two more hovered nearby, holding silver platters with fruits, ready to feed me at a moment's notice.
All because of my brilliant plan to fake a pregnancy.
At that time, it seemed foolproof—a quick way out of the mansion, a perfect escape from any royal entanglements.
But instead of freedom, I found myself even more tightly bound.
Not pregnant, not even remotely interested in bearing the emperor's child, but here I was, pampered and protected like I carried the empire's future.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
And the emperor—oh, the emperor—he had bought it.
Completely.
That was the kicker.