Doomed To Be My Husband's Slave, His Rival Breaks Me Free!

I stood at the head table of the Poltort Estate ballroom, champagne glass trembling in my hand.

Tonight was our fifth wedding anniversary. Five years of being Mrs. Tyron Poltort, wife to one of the most powerful mafia bosses in the city.

The crystal chandelier cast golden light over three hundred guests, crime lords, politicians, and business moguls.

They were all here to celebrate us.

"To my beautiful wife," Tyron stood, raising his glass. His voice boomed across the room. "Morry has been my rock. My partner. The woman who stands beside me through everything."

Applause thundered. I forced a smile, my cheeks aching from holding it for the past three hours.

"And to celebrate this milestone," Tyron continued, his hand warm on my shoulder.

"I have a special surprise."

He gestured to the massive LED screen behind us. My heart swelled. A video montage, perhaps? Photos from our wedding day? I had mentioned wanting something sentimental just last week.

The lights dimmed. The screen flickered to life.

But it wasn't our wedding photos.

It was security footage. Grainy, but clear enough.

Me, entering the Rosewood Hotel three months ago.

Me, in the elevator with Alberto Barella… Tyron's biggest rival. Then it switched to me leaving his penthouse suite at 2 AM, adjusting my coat.

The timestamp glowed in the corner like an accusation.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"What is this?" I whispered, turning to Tyron.

His face was stone cold. He was unrecognisable.

Then the audio crackled through the speakers. My voice, distorted but unmistakable, spliced together from different conversations.

"I'll do whatever it takes. My body is yours if that's what you want. Just tell me when and where."

"No," I breathed, backing away from the table. "That's not real. That's not-"

"Is this how you repay me?" Tyron's voice cut through the ballroom like a blade. He wasn't looking at me. He was performing for the crowd.

"Is this how you honor our marriage? By spreading your legs for my enemy?"

"Tyron, please," I reached for him, my fingers grazing his sleeve. "This is fake. Someone edited-"

"Don't touch me!" He recoiled, disgust twisting his handsome features. "Alberto Barella? The man who has tried to destroy my family for years? You gave yourself to him?"

The room erupted in whispers. Faces I had smiled at for five years now looked at me with contempt and pity.

"I didn't!" I screamed, my voice breaking. "Tyron, you know me. You know I would never-"

A figure rose from a table near the back. Hixia, my best friend since college, rushed toward the stage. Her face was painted with perfect concern, tears were already streaming down her cheeks.

"Morry," she said softly, taking my hands. Her grip was like iron. "Oh, Morry. Why did you do this to yourself?"

"Hixia, tell them," I pleaded, searching her eyes for the friend I knew. "Tell them I would never-"

"I tried to warn you," Hixia said, her voice carrying across the silent room.

She turned to address the crowd, her shoulders shaking with sobs. "I saw the signs. The secret phone calls. The late nights. I confronted her last month, and she told me she was in love with Alberto. She said Tyron was cold and distant. That Alberto made her feel alive."

"That's a lie!" I shrieked, trying to pull away from her. "Hixia, what are you doing?"

"I wanted to tell you, Tyron," Hixia continued, ignoring my protests.

She released my hands and walked to Tyron, placing her palm on his chest in a gesture far too intimate.

"But I didn't want to break your heart. I thought if I stayed close to Morry, I could guide her back to you. I hoped she would come to her senses."

Tyron's jaw clenched. He looked at me, and for a split second, I saw something flicker in his eyes.

Then it vanished, replaced by ice.

"Get her out of my sight," he said quietly.

Two of his men stepped forward and clutched my arms.

"No! Tyron, please!" I struggled, my heels skidding on the polished floor. "Let me explain! This is a setup! Look at the evidence properly!"

"The evidence is on that screen," Tyron said, his voice devoid of emotion. He turned his back on me, accepting a fresh glass of champagne from a waiter.

"Take her to the east wing. Lock the door. I'll deal with her after the guests leave."

They dragged me through the ballroom as three hundred people watched in silence. Some looked away. Others smiled, enjoying the spectacle of my downfall.

At the doorway, I twisted around one last time.

Hixia was standing beside Tyron, her hand resting on his arm. She looked up at him with perfect sympathy, murmuring something that made him nod stiffly.

And then she looked at me.

For one brief moment, her mask slipped. The concern vanished, replaced by a cold, victorious smirk.

She mouthed two words… "I won."

The door slammed shut. They shoved me into a bedroom in the east wing, far from our shared suite, far from anywhere guests would wander. The lock clicked from the outside with a finality that made my stomach drop.

I collapsed onto the floor, my gown pooling around me like a puddle of blood. My chest heaved as my vision blurred with tears.

Then I felt it. A wave of nausea so violent I barely made it to the attached bathroom before I vomited.

When the heaving stopped, I sat on the cold tile floor, trembling. My body felt like it was breaking apart from the inside.

I pressed a hand to my stomach and closed my eyes…

I was six weeks pregnant, the doctor had confirmed it three days ago.

I had been planning to tell Tyron tonight, after the toast. I had imagined his face lighting up, imagined him lifting me into his arms and spinning me around like he used to when we first got married.

Now that future was ash, all because of Hixia.

"Since you betrayed me," I whispered to the empty bathroom, my voice hoarse.

"I'll destroy you."