"I want to disappear and start a new life." My voice trembled, but I didn’t take it back. "If you can help me do that… I’ll marry you."

A pause. Then a low, amused chuckle came from the other end of the line. "Of course I can, Isla. Give me five days," Luigi said coolly, his voice laced with danger and promises I had no choice but to trust. "But remember, once I pick you up… there’s no turning back. You’ll belong to me."

I shut my eyes tightly. My nails dug into my palm. "Yes," I whispered, and then ended the call.

Silence surrounded me, broken only by the steady beeping of machines. I stared at the cracked paint on the hospital wall, willing myself not to cry again.

Luigi Villaraza—the devil himself. My family’s greatest rival. The man I was raised to hate. And now, the only one I could run to. Because anything, anyone… was better than staying with a husband who had fooled me for five years.

It was five days ago when everything shattered. I was on the way to a charity auction with my parents. We were in the backseat of my father’s black town car, gliding past the city lights. The charity auction was one of those high-profile events hosted annually by the elites—expensive art, overpriced wine, carefully curated gossip. I’d gone with Mateo in the past, but this year… he wasn’t with me.

“He said he had an emergency board meeting,” I told my parents, adjusting the emerald pendant around my neck. “He’ll follow later.”

My mother raised an eyebrow. “An emergency? On a Saturday evening?”

I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the passing road. “That’s business. You know how it is.”

My father folded his hands together, his expression unreadable. “Isla… are you sure everything’s fine between you two? You’ve given so much to that man. If he’s not treating you right—if he’s cheating—”

I laughed. Too loud, too fast. “Cheating? Mateo would never do that. He’s been under a lot of stress, but he loves me. He’s just busy.”

They didn’t answer right away. The silence in the car felt heavier than usual.

Then a sudden jolt so violent it knocked the breath from my lungs.

The brakes failed. Metal crunched against metal. The sound of tires skidding. A blinding flash of headlights. And then darkness.

When I opened my eyes, I was in surgery. Sedated. Drifting between dream and nightmare. But somewhere between unconsciousness and hell, I heard voices.

"Just say she lost the baby," a cold, familiar voice said. "Tell her the accident caused a miscarriage."

It was Mateo. My husband.

"And remove her uterus while you’re at it. She doesn’t need it anymore."

"Are you sure?" the doctor asked, hesitant. "She just lost her parents. And if she finds out, she could fall into depression…"

"Perfect," Mateo said, laughing. "Maybe she’ll finally die from heartbreak. Saves me the trouble. For now, I still need her alive since I need some signatures and stuff to get everything from their company. And I want my child with Layla to be the heir."

Layla. My best friend. Five years ago, Layla ran away the night before her wedding to Mateo.

Mateo’s family had gone bankrupt. Their name was dragged through the mud. And just like that, Layla leaves him humiliated in front of hundreds of guests and the entire business world. I remember standing at the back of the venue, watching him crumble behind a blank stare, jaw clenched as everyone whispered.

And I—stupid, loyal Isla—stepped in. He was my best friend’s fiancé. I should’ve stayed away. But I loved him. So I married him. I carried his shame. I stood by him when the world turned its back. I merged my family’s company with his, poured my blood and name into rebuilding the Madrigal empire. I handed him the power he had lost. I gave him everything.

And for a while, I believed he gave me love in return. But a year ago, Layla returned.

She came to my office uninvited, and said, “I’m not here to ruin you. I just want to fix everything I broke. I just want to be friends with you and Mateo.”

I should’ve thrown her out. But I listened. Like a fool.

Mateo swore it meant nothing. Said he would never forgive her. Said she disgusted him. He raged at her return. Called her a coward. But I should’ve known.

The stolen glances. The sudden absences. The excuses he wrapped in silk. The nights he came home late, smelling like a perfume I didn’t wear. The way he stopped touching me. Like I had become something temporary.

And now… he wanted to erase me.

My child. My existence.

He wanted Layla to have it all.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the scream clawing up my throat. My breath hitched. My nails dug into my palms. The ache wasn’t just physical—it was spiritual. Hollowing.

No. No, I wouldn’t let this end like this. I picked up my phone again, my hand shaking, and dialed the number of our family lawyer.

“Prepare the divorce papers,” I said, voice firm. “Effective immediately. I want everything voided—marriage, shares, all of it.”

“What? Are you sure, Mrs. Madrigal? But there’s a merging coming up to—”

“Cancel everything in five days. Once I’m gone…”

I hung up. But before I could even lower the phone from my ear, a shadow fell across the doorway. Mateo.

"Once you’re gone?" His voice was smooth, laced with suspicion. “Who are you talking to, Isla?”

"Once you’re gone?" His voice was smooth, laced with suspicion. “Who are you talking to, Isla?”

I turned slowly to see Mateo leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, his brows slightly raised.

“What are you saying?” he asked again.

I swallowed hard and shut off my phone. “Nothing,” I said flatly, sliding the device beneath my blanket as if it hadn’t just sealed my fate.

“Nothing?” He chuckled, stepping in. “You said, ‘Once I’m gone.’ Are you leaving?”

I met his gaze, forcing my voice to stay steady. “No. I just meant… once I’m gone from the hospital. When I’m discharged.”

His eyes narrowed. “You sure?” He walked over and held his hand out. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“Just give it to me.”

I didn’t argue. I handed it over and watched as he tapped the screen. “What’s your password?”

I hesitated. Then I said, “My birthday.”

He typed quickly, but then his eyes darkened. “It’s not working. January 26, right?”

I let out a bitter chuckle. “That’s not my birthday.”

His head snapped up. “What?”

“That’s Layla’s birthday.”

His face drained of color, like someone had slapped the truth into him. “I… I just mixed it up.”

“Right,” I muttered.

He cleared his throat. “You seem suspicious. Are you… cheating on me?”

I blinked, stunned by the audacity. “Cheating on you?” I laughed, bitter and sharp, the sound slicing through the sterile hospital air. “Where’s that coming from?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, too casually. “I heard someone already paid your hospital bills. And it wasn’t me. They said it was a guy!”

For a second, I just stared at him. Cheating? When it had been him all along—sneaking around, lying through his teeth, whispering promises to Layla behind my back. I had seen the signs, ignored them, convinced myself I was being paranoid. And now he had the nerve to accuse me?

But I didn’t argue. What was the point?

“Then maybe you should ask yourself why it wasn’t you,” I snapped, keeping my voice steady even when it wanted to crack. “Maybe it was a stranger. Or maybe…” I met his gaze, unblinking. “Maybe it was you who’s been cheating.”

His jaw tightened. But before he could fire back, his phone lit up and I saw the name. Bold. Familiar. Layla.

He stared at it, then looked at me. “It’s business.”

“I thought you were driving me home.”

He nodded absently. “Something came up. My driver’s waiting downstairs. Just head to the car. I’ll see you at home.”

And then he left. No apology. No goodbye. Not even a backward glance.

I stared at the empty doorway for a full minute before finally standing up. The last thread of whatever was left between us had snapped.

I walked down the corridor alone, the cool air biting at my skin. But just before I reached the exit, I heard it—familiar laughter echoing from the hallway.

I stopped.

Turned.

And there they were.

Mateo and Layla.

She was leaned against him, smiling, one hand resting gently on her belly. His hand moved protectively over hers as he kissed her forehead and whispered something that made her giggle.

I didn’t breathe. I didn’t cry.

I just stood frozen, clutching my chest where a heartbeat used to live.

Then Layla looked up and saw me.

Her lips curled into a wicked smirk, as if this entire thing had been staged for my destruction. And just like that, she leaned in and kissed Mateo. Not discreetly. Not shyly. She kissed him like she wanted me to see. Like she was proud.

Mateo didn’t pull away.

He didn’t even look around.

I turned on my heel and walked out of the hospital.

The driver was waiting, but I didn’t speak a word on the ride home. The world outside the window blurred into static. My ears rang with the echo of her laughter. The same laugh I grew up with. The one I used to adore.

I went straight to the bedroom.

To the closet. To every drawer, every shelf, every box that carried remnants of him—of us.

The designer bags he gave me on anniversaries. The dresses he picked for me on trips. The love notes he used to leave by my pillow.

I pulled them out one by one, dragging them to the fireplace. My hands moved on their own, tossing pieces of our five-year history into the flames. I watched as the silk burned, as ink turned to ash.

And just when I thought I had nothing left to break—

My phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen.

Layla. With trembling fingers, I opened the message.

It was a photo. Of her kissing Mateo. Again. This time on our balcony. The one where he used to hold me during late-night talks about building a family.

Beneath the photo, a message: Oops. Sorry. But he’s mine now. You stole him from me before, Isla. I’m just taking back what’s mine. I hope you don’t mind. But you better leave soon.

My vision blurred. The last flame in my soul turned to wildfire.

I clenched my jaw and typed back: Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon. And when I do, I’ll make all of you regret ever touching my life.

I hit send. In just a few more days, I’ll be gone…

Mateo didn’t come home. He didn’t call. Didn’t text. Didn’t check if I was breathing or broken. But Layla did. She sent pictures.

Photos of her in Mateo’s arms. At restaurants. In his office. In bed. Some were blurry, like she took them in a rush. Others were posed, her lips curled into a smirk, her hand always on him possessively. Like she wanted me to suffer slowly. Like it wasn’t enough that she’d stolen my husband—she wanted me to watch.

And then the messages started.

“I was the one he wanted. Always was. You were just… there.”

“The third wheel turned wife. Cute.”

A laugh escaped my lips. I remembered. The way she used to hang off him at parties. How I trailed behind them like a ghost. Always invited, never wanted. I had always been the second choice.

Maybe Layla was right. Maybe I was the third wheel all along. Maybe I deserved this for stealing him that wedding night.

Still, I didn’t cry. I saved everything. I forwarded the entire folder to my secretary, Cara, with a single message:

“Use this to expose everything once I’m gone. Destroy him. Erase his name from my family’s company. Make them bankrupt again.”

A second later, Cara replied:

“Understood. But ma’am… who’s going to take over everything?”

I stared at the screen for a moment before typing back: “My soon-to-be husband.”

And with that, I turned off my phone. But it only stayed silent for two minutes before another message came in.

Mateo: Today’s a celebration at the house. I can’t come with you. You should drop by and bring something for my mother.

No apology. No emotion. Not even a "How are you feeling?"

Just an instruction. Like I was his employee. Like nothing had happened.

At first, I ignored it. I was seconds away from deleting the message but then I paused.

This would be the last time. So I put on a beige dress, simple but elegant. Pulled my hair back. Slipped on heels. And packed a box of imported tea I knew his mother liked.

It was the last gift I’d ever give them.

Laughter echoed in the hallway. When I stepped into the living room, I nearly turned back.

Layla was there. Seated comfortably beside Mateo’s mother, laughing, holding her hand like a dutiful daughter-in-law. Her other hand casually rested on her slightly rounded stomach.

She looked up first. Her lips curled into a grin. “Oh, look. The wife is here.”

Mateo’s mother, Isabel, barely blinked. “Ah, yes. The cursed wife.”

My breath caught.

“I still can’t believe what happened to her parents,” she continued, turning to Layla with a pitiful sigh. “Such a tragedy. But the fortune teller was right. She brings death, and surely she’d be the downfall of this family, so she really needs to be gone.”

I froze in place.

Just a few years ago, I was the most beloved daughter-in-law this family had ever known. Mateo’s mother used to invite me to every luncheon, clinging to my arm as if I were a trophy. She’d smile at me like I was her daughter by blood.

They used to say, “We couldn’t have survived without Isla.”

But now? Now that my parents are gone—now that the company was merged, the contracts signed, the power was about to be transferred—they no longer needed me.

So this was their plan all along. I should’ve known.

“She’s still here only because Mateo hasn’t divorced her yet,” she added, “but don’t worry, dear. She’ll be gone soon. Especially now that the heir is here.” She ran a hand over Layla’s stomach.

My stomach twisted, but I kept my chin up.

I stepped forward and placed the box of tea on the table. “I came to deliver this.”

Mateo’s mother glanced at the green diamond necklace I wore—my mother’s last gift.

Her eyes lit up. “That necklace looks lovely. Give it to me.”

I stared at her. “No. It belonged to my mother. I have another gift for you—”

“Exactly,” she said, reaching toward it. “And your mother is dead. It would be such a beautiful gift from you. After all, what use do you have for heirlooms?”

“I said no,” I repeated, backing away. “It’s mine.”

She lunged forward and grabbed it.

“Give it to me now!”

“No!” I screamed, clutching it tightly. “Let go! That’s the only thing I have left of my parents!”

Her hand yanked the chain.

I shrieked, “I said no!”

Suddenly, Isabel clutched her chest and staggered backward.

Her face twisted in pain, one hand gripping the armrest, the other still yanking at my necklace. “Agh—!”

She collapsed to the floor, gasping, her fingers trembling as she pointed at me. “That bitch—she’s a curse! Look what she’s done to me! Just because I asked for her necklace—selfish, ungrateful—”

“Someone call an ambulance!” another shouted.

The room erupted into chaos. And then the door slammed open.

Mateo burst in. “What the hell is happening?!”

Layla ran to him, wrapping her arms around his and sobbing theatrically. “It’s your mom—she collapsed! She was fine until she fought with Isla.”

Isabel managed to speak between coughs, “She’s cursed… Mateo, I told you, she brings nothing but ruin, look at what she did to me!”

Mateo rushed to his mother’s side, cradling her head. “Mom… stop talking like that, she’s my wife. What are you saying?!”

“I don’t care,” Isabel hissed, her eyes narrowing at me. “She’s a curse! She’ll destroy you, just like her family and her baby are already gone!”

I turned, unable to breathe in that house a second longer. I stormed through the hallway, clutching the strap of my bag, trying to blink back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Isla!” Layla called after me.

I didn’t stop.

She ran faster and then behind me, I heard it.

A loud thud. A scream.

I turned just in time to see Layla crumpled at the base of the staircase, one heel twisted beneath her, hand clutching her stomach.

“Ahhh! Mateo!” she screamed. “She pushed me!”