"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!”

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in that freezing darkness. My skin was pale and numb, lips cracked, breath shallow. My fingers curled against my chest, trying to preserve even the faintest trace of warmth. But before the cold swallowed me whole… I remembered how I got there.

“I said throw her in there,” Isabel hissed, her voice sharp like broken glass. “Let her cool off since she wants to cause trouble in this house.”

Two maids hesitated by my arms, glancing at each other with uncertainty. “She’s sick, Señora… this isn’t right—”

“I said put her in!” Isabel snapped. “She laid her cursed hands on me and nearly killed me and my grandchild. Layla got hurt, too! Don’t you see it? She’s the ruin of this family. Let the ice drain that poison out.”

“I didn’t mean—please,” I whispered, clutching my blanket, my voice hoarse. “Please, don’t do this. Mateo—get Mateo. He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t allow this…”

But even as I begged, the world around me twisted.

Because I heard the hurried footsteps down the hall. Mateo.

I screamed his name. “Mateo! Mateo, please—I need you!”

He rushed past the hallway—carrying Layla, barking orders, his suit jacket half-on, panic written across his face.

“She’s bleeding again. She fell to the stairs. Keep the car running to the hospital. I can't let something happen to the baby!”

He didn’t even glance at me.

I reached out a shaking hand from the floor. “Mateo…!”

But his back was already turning the corner. Already leaving.

Gone.

“Wait—please…” My knees gave out.

“Do it now,” Isabel said coldly, her voice merciless. “Before she stirs up more drama.”

I snapped on my thoughts when someone entered. It was Mateo.

He wrapped me in a blanket. “Isla, oh god, Isla! I didn’t know. I didn’t know she actually did it, I thought she was joking. You know how my mother is when she’s mad, she says things she doesn’t mean.”

My teeth chattered. I couldn’t even reply.

He rubbed my arms frantically. “I’m sorry… about the necklace too. I know now, it was your mother’s. The only thing you had left of them. I was stupid. I should’ve stopped her.”

I didn’t say anything. My lips curled slightly, but it wasn’t warmth, it was bitterness.

“You’ll feel better soon, alright? Tomorrow… we’ll finalize the contract for the merge. I need you there so you need to be fine. Then, I’ll buy you a dozen necklaces like that one,” he added with a shaky laugh, kissing my forehead like a reward for surviving.

Ah, there it was. The merge.

That’s why I was saved. Because I was still needed.

He scooped me into his arms like a fragile thing, carrying me back to the bedroom. “You’re burning up,” he said suddenly, panic flashing in his voice. “You have a fever. I’m bringing you to the hospital.”

“No.” My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. But I forced the word out with all the strength I had.

“No?” he echoed.

I pushed against his chest. “Let’s get a divorce.”

He froze. “What?” His voice was a stunned whisper, like he hadn’t heard me right.

“I want a divorce, Mateo. End it.”

“No, no, wait, Isla. You’re just sick, upset. I said I was sorry. Don’t do this,” he pleaded, eyes wide and desperate. “Okay, okay, I should’ve stopped my mother. I should’ve never believed Layla. But I was worried for the baby, alright? She said she was bleeding, and I panicked. I didn’t think you’d… I didn’t know the truth… that it was an accident.”

I laughed bitterly, coughing as I did. “Of course. The baby.”

His eyes flickered as if he knew what I was thinking. “It’s not mine.”

“Is it?”

He swallowed. “No. Of course not. I just—she had no one. I pitied her.”

Pity. The same pity that made him feed her lies while erasing me.

Mateo moved closer, brushing my hair back. “If you want me to stay away from her, I will. I’ll focus on us. No divorce. Please, let me take care of you now, okay?”

He reached down and gently picked me up again, murmuring apologies.

And then the door creaked open. Layla stood there. Eyes red. Voice trembling.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sniffing. “I didn’t want to be a burden. I didn’t mean to… maybe I should leave. Maybe it’s better if I go away again because you’re gonna dispose of me, right?.”

Mateo turned his head. “Layla—”

“But I’m bleeding again,” she whispered.

Everything stopped.

Layla clutched her stomach. “The baby… maybe it deserves this. Maybe I do.”

Then she turned and ran, sobbing down the hall.

“No! Layla!” Mateo panicked, placing me down so fast my knees buckled.

“Mateo,” I croaked. “You said—”

But he was already halfway out the door.

“I’m sorry!” he called out. “I’ll call someone to help you—Layla needs me!”

“What about me?!” I screamed after him.

He turned once, hesitating. “You’re strong, Isla. You always are. The butler will take care of you.”

And then he was gone.

The door slammed shut.

I waited. Minutes.

Then an hour. But no one came.

The cold of the freezer still clung to my bones. My head was spinning, skin burning, vision blurry. I reached for the wall, dragging myself up. Every step felt like dragging iron chains across my soul.

I made it to the car. Somehow, I drove myself to the nearest hospital. My fingers trembled as I clutched the steering wheel, sweat soaking through my clothes, vision swimming but I made it.

When I woke up, I received a call from Luigi, “I heard what happened! I’m picking you up immediately!”