Later, in a private fitting area, Nathan tested her.

“You know,” he said lightly, “I can make things easier for you.”

Her eyes hardened.

“I sell luxury goods,” she replied evenly. “Not myself.”

He studied her carefully.

She didn’t know she was being measured—not as a conquest, but as a partner.

—

Weeks later, Hannah’s world tilted.

Morning nausea. Dizziness.

By evening, two pink lines confirmed it.

Pregnant.

She sat on her small apartment bed staring at the test, whispering,

“This can’t be happening…”

Rumors spread at work. Fake messages. Whispers that she chased wealthy men.

One afternoon, her estranged mother stormed into the showroom demanding money.

Humiliation erupted in public.

In tears, Hannah finally spoke the truth.

“The baby is Nathan Sinclair’s.”

Laughter echoed—

Until Nathan himself walked in.

Security cleared the room.

He knelt beside her.

“Did anyone touch you?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head.

He stood, expression cold.

“No one under my company will be bullied.”

Security footage later revealed Vanessa and others had fabricated the rumors.

They were terminated immediately.

—

Hannah’s struggles weren’t over.

Her landlord attempted to intimidate her for unpaid rent.

Nathan arrived before the situation escalated.

“You’re moving,” he told her firmly.

She resisted at first.

“I don’t want to be temporary in your world.”

“You’re not temporary,” he replied.

And he proved it—not with grand gestures, but consistency.

His sisters embraced her warmly. His parents welcomed her with pride.

When Hannah’s mother later demanded millions to “stay silent,” Nathan calmly handed her a modest check.

“This covers anything you claim,” he said. “Hannah owes you nothing more.”

For the first time, Hannah felt free from the weight of a past she didn’t choose.

—

But Nathan didn’t stop at protecting her.

He discovered something else.

Hannah was a gifted jewelry designer. Years earlier, her college tuition had vanished—taken by family.

“I’m funding your designs,” Nathan told her. “Fully.”

Months later, her own boutique opened.

Bright. Elegant. Hers.

On opening night, Nathan surprised her with a cake.

“I’ve never had a birthday cake,” she whispered.

“Then we start now,” he smiled.

Later, beneath soft lights, he knelt before her.

“You stayed kind when people were cruel. You stood firm when pressured. Will you marry me—openly, proudly?”

Tears streamed down her face.

“Yes.”

Their wedding wasn’t defined by wealth.