Pregnant Wife's Revenge

I gasped awake, my lungs burning as if filled with smoke, my body drenched in cold sweat despite the warmth of the bed. My hands flew instinctively to my swollen belly, feeling the reassuring movements beneath my palms. Rome. My son. Still alive within me.

"I'm dead," I whispered, my voice cracking in the darkness of the Salazar estate bedroom. "I should be dead."

But the weight of my hand against my belly told me otherwise. The familiar ache in my lower back, the occasional kick from within—all evidence that I had somehow returned to this moment. Before the fire. Before the pain. Before Leland's betrayal became my murder.

Memories flooded back with crystal clarity—not dreams or nightmares, but the actual experience of dying. The flames licking at the doorframe as I screamed for help. The smoke filling my lungs as I collapsed beside the birthing bed. The last glimpse of my unborn child as darkness claimed me.

And now... resurrection.

Beside me, Leland slept peacefully, his breathing deep and even. The man who had orchestrated my death lay inches away, unaware that his victim had returned with full knowledge of his treachery. I watched his face in the moonlight streaming through the curtains—the same face that had shown false concern as flames consumed me and our child.

My fingers curled into fists against the sheets. Every instinct screamed at me to flee, to grab my swollen belly and run far from this monster. But I forced myself to lie still, to breathe evenly, to think.

"I won't die again," I promised silently, my hand protective over Rome. "Not this time."

---

Two days later, I moved silently through the corridors of the Salazar estate. My pregnancy made stealth difficult—my center of gravity had shifted, and each step sent discomfort through my spine—but determination pushed me forward.

Voices drifted from Leland's private study. The door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the darkened hallway. I recognized Leland's voice immediately, followed by another—Marcus Hale, his loyal steward.

"The preparations are nearly complete, Your Grace," Marcus said, his tone respectful but matter-of-fact. "The flammable materials have been positioned throughout the medical wing as you requested."

I pressed myself against the wall beside the door, my heart hammering so loudly I feared they might hear it. My hand instinctively covered my belly again as Leland spoke.

"Good. The timing must be precise. We need to ensure all the midwives and doctors are trapped when the fire starts." His voice held no emotion—just cool calculation. "Riley will go into labor naturally before help can arrive. A tragic accident with no survivors to contradict our story."

"The doctors from town?" Marcus asked.

"Delayed at the north gate. By the time they reach the estate, it will be too late." Leland's tone was almost bored, as if discussing a business transaction rather than multiple murders. "The fire will spread quickly through the medical wing. Riley will be in the birthing room with only the midwives I've selected—those who won't survive to tell tales."

My stomach lurched with nausea and rage. I fought to control my breathing as Marcus confirmed the details.

"The flammable materials are positioned to ensure complete destruction of the medical wing. No one will escape."

"And the timing?" Leland asked.

"Three days from now, according to your calculations of when the duchess will go into labor."

Three days. I had three days to live—or rather, to die again if I didn't act.

---

That evening, sleep eluded me. I paced our bedroom, watching the moonlight cast long shadows across the floor. A movement in the garden below caught my eye—a cloaked figure slipping from the servants' quarters toward the garden pavilion.

I recognized the gait immediately. Bonnie.

Without hesitation, I wrapped myself in a dark cloak and followed, keeping to the shadows. The night air was cool against my skin as I crept through the garden, using the hedges for cover.

In the moonlit pavilion, I saw them—Leland and Bonnie, locked in an intimate embrace. My cousin. My husband. The architects of my death.

"When will it be over?" Bonnie whispered, her hand resting on her own slightly swollen belly. "I can hardly wait to see our son as the Salazar heir."

"Soon," Leland promised, kissing her forehead. "It will all be over soon, and we can finally be together openly."

Bonnie's laugh was soft but cruel. "Are you certain Riley suspects nothing?"

Leland's response chilled me to the bone. "She's too trusting, too naive to imagine betrayal from family." His voice dripped with contempt. "She believes everyone loves her as much as she loves them."

I backed away silently, my decision made. There was no doubt now—no room for hesitation or mercy. I needed to leave this place immediately and seek help from the one person who would believe me without question.

My mother.

With renewed purpose, I slipped back toward the house, my mind racing with plans. I would not die again. Not this time.