I Lost Our Baby Saving My Husband’s Mistress

Maria Rodriguez never imagined that the woman she’d risked her life to save would turn out to be her husband’s lover.

The doctor rushed down the crowded hospital corridor, his voice tight. "Deep stab wounds and signs of a miscarriage. Get her ready for surgery. Has anyone reached her family?"

A nurse hurried up, irritation sharp in her voice. "The husband won’t come. Says he’s busy."

Busy. Was he really tied up—or did he just not care whether she lived or died? Even with his baby inside her?

Blood soaking through her clothes, Maria fought to lift her hand. "Give me the phone."

The nurse pressed it into her palm. Gritting her teeth against the searing pain, Maria dialed the number she knew by heart. No answer.

She tried again. And again. On the fourth ring, just before voicemail picked up, a cold, furious voice cut through the line. "I told you I’m busy. Whether she lives or dies is none of my concern."

Pain lanced through Maria’s chest, but she dragged in a breath and spoke, her voice raw. "They’re taking me into surgery. I need you here—"

A mocking laugh echoed down the line. "Let me guess—if I don’t come, you’ll die?"

"I’m not lying. I’m seriously hurt."

"Is that so?" His voice dripped with contempt. "Then do us both a favor and drop dead."

"Easton—"

The line went dead before she could finish. Desperate, she called again.

"We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is switched off," the automated voice said.

The doctor saw the despair on her face and crouched beside the gurney. "We’re treating you, Maria. Is there anyone else you want us to call?"

But Maria had no one she could call at this hour. Five years ago, a car accident had taken her father and brother and left her mother in a vegetative state. Her husband, Easton Rodriguez, should have been the person she could count on. He was the one person who least seemed to care whether she survived.

Her body screamed with pain, and tears slipped down her ghostly pale face. "I can sign for myself," she whispered.

"Yes. You can."

"Then I’ll do it myself."

With the last scrap of strength she had, Maria signed the consent form.

Five hours of emergency surgery later, she had lost the baby—and nearly bled to death on the table. She was rushed to the ICU.

As the sedation began to wear off, Maria drifted in and out of consciousness. She couldn’t open her eyes yet, but voices reached her through the haze.

"That man has no heart. Even a stranger wouldn’t leave someone to die, let alone his wife. It’s bad enough he didn’t show—did he really have to say those things? Was he hoping she’d die?"

"Let’s change the subject. Did you hear? The woman in the penthouse suite on the top floor is Mr. Rodriguez’s girlfriend."

"Which Mr. Rodriguez?"

"The one they say is thirty, has never dated, and had his orientation questioned—the CEO of Rodriguez Group, Easton Rodriguez! You should’ve seen him fuss over a tiny bruise. He gathered the best doctors in the hospital and stayed by her side, taking care of her himself."

"Wow. Even the famous Mr. Rodriguez turns into a devoted boyfriend. Women really need to choose carefully, or they’ll end up like Ms. Rodriguez—married to a beast!"

Maria’s eyes snapped open. The young nurse, about to wipe her face, jumped back. "You—you’re awake?"

Ignoring the agony, Maria asked hoarsely, "What’s the name of the patient on the top floor?"

No one thought twice about gossiping near a sedated patient.

"No need to envy her. She’s not ordinary—an international piano competition winner at twelve, and lately she’s famous in the tech world. Don’t get me wrong, you’re amazing too. It’s just too bad you met the wrong person."

Realizing she wasn’t helping, the nurse gave an awkward smile. "Um, you just woke up, so try to rest."

Two days later, after she had been moved out of intensive care, Maria was cleared to walk short distances with assistance. That evening, she slipped out of her room and took the elevator to the top floor, one hand pressed over her bandages.

Outside the hospital room, she peered through the window. A man and a woman were locked in an embrace. The man was Easton Rodriguez. The woman—

Maria recognized her face and stumbled back. It was the girl she had saved with her own life.

She’d planned to start maternity leave closer to her due date. That day had started like any other. She’d worked late, shutting down her computer only after Easton left the office—a routine she’d followed for more than five years.

On her way home, a girl of about twenty had flagged down her car, begging for help. "Please help me! A drunk is trying to assault me. My phone’s dead, and I can’t call my boyfriend…"

So the boyfriend she’d mentioned was Easton Rodriguez.

As a woman, Maria couldn’t just drive away. She tried to help—but the drunk was armed with a knife. Her guard was down. The blade went into her chest, narrowly missing her heart.

Now she knew. The person she’d saved was her husband’s mistress.

No wonder he’d been too busy to come.

Maria’s body trembled uncontrollably. The irony was overwhelming. She had sacrificed her unborn child to protect his secret affair.

She wiped her tears away, turned, and left.

Inside the room, Easton—his back to the door—suddenly tensed and spun around.

"Ouch…" Kylie Taylor winced.

Easton’s attention snapped back to her. "What happened?"

Kylie glanced casually toward the window. "Nothing. Just a little pain in the wound."

Easton immediately offered, "I’ll call the doctor."

"No need. I just moved the wrong way. Easton, you don’t have to worry so much." Kylie checked the time. "It’s late. You should go home and rest. I can handle things here."

Easton hesitated. "Call the doctor if you need anything."

As he started to leave, Kylie caught his arm. "Can you stay until I fall asleep?"

"Alright."

Maria returned to her room. By the following evening, the doctors had cleared her for discharge with strict instructions to rest. She took a cab to the lakeside mansion she and Easton had called home for five years.

Gazing around the room—not a single wedding photo in sight—Maria let out a bitter laugh. It hadn’t been a marital home. It had been her prison for five years.

In his eyes, their marriage had been her calculated move. From the start, he had loathed her. But she had clung to hope, believing that if she just stayed in place, he would eventually see her. Five years later, his loathing had only deepened, and now he loved another woman.

Do us both a favor and drop dead.

The words echoed in her head. Maria packed her things quickly, left the signed divorce papers on the living room table, and walked out without a hint of hesitation.