But just weeks later, he spent a small fortune to make sure his mistress delivered a boy in a private clinic.
What he didn’t know was that fate was already waiting for him—with the jaws of a trap he’d never escape.

Dawn rose over Riviere-sur-Mont, the little southern town glowing under a golden sky. In her apartment in the Amandiers district, Nora moved slowly, one hand resting on her stomach, the other bracing herself against the wall. She whispered to the child inside her:

“Stay strong, little one… soon I’ll finally see you.”

Victor didn’t even look up. The tender man she married had evaporated the moment she announced the pregnancy, replaced by a colder, sharper version of himself—one irritated by everything: her breathing, her swollen steps, even the way she held a cup.

One night, as Nora folded tiny baby clothes, he spat:

“You’re giving birth next month at your parents’ place in Montbrun. Costs me three times less.”

She blinked hard.
“Victor… I’m almost eight months. That trip is long. What if something—”

“You’ll be fine,” he snapped, waving her away like a nuisance.

Two days later, Nora boarded a train to Montbrun with red eyes but a raised chin. Her mother, Madame Delmas, wrapped her in warm arms the second she stepped off the platform.

Meanwhile Victor rushed to Lina Marek—his young assistant—believing she would finally give him the son he felt entitled to. He paid for the elite package at Val-Blanc Clinic, ready to play the role of “proud father” in a story he scripted himself.

The day arrived. He announced the birth of his “heir” to anyone who would listen. But minutes later, a nurse summoned him to sign papers. He strutted down the hall, chest lifted, ego blazing—

Until the door opened.

And everything inside him froze.

The doctor looked up, her expression steady, almost too calm.
“Mr. Leroux… congratulations. You have a healthy baby girl.”

A girl.

The word slammed into him. His breath hitched. His thoughts spun—money spent, promises made, secrets arranged. All for nothing.
And then the most brutal realization hit him: Lina must have known. She tricked him, played him, used him.

At that same hour, miles away in Montbrun, Nora lay in a lavender-scented delivery room. She clutched her mother’s hand as her baby’s cry broke open the silence.

“It’s a girl,” the midwife whispered.

A girl.
But unlike Victor, Nora smiled through her tears.
“I knew it,” she breathed. “I felt it all along.”

The door flew open. Her father—usually strict, reserved—stood there panting from running. One look at the tiny face in Nora’s arms, and the man crumbled. Tears streamed freely.

“Welcome to the world… little Amelie.”

He said the name first.
No one argued. It simply fit.

Back at Val-Blanc, Victor remained in the hallway, staring blankly at the floor. All his plans, all his calculations—ruined by nature’s simple truth.

He wanted a son.
Life gave him two daughters.

And fate wasn’t done with him.

A nurse ran out of the neonatal unit, panic written across her face.
“Mr. Leroux—please come quickly. There’s a complication. Your baby needs to be transferred to intensive care.”

His heart slammed against his ribs. Once. Twice.

For the first time in his life, he realized he wasn’t in control.
Money couldn’t save him.
Lies couldn’t protect him.
Plans couldn’t shield him.

He had stepped into the trap himself.

And now one of his daughters was fighting for her life.