Chasing the Woman Who Stole My Twins

Nick’s eyes darted from my father to me, then to Helga standing just inside the doorway with her hand still pressed to her cheek like it was a delicate porcelain cup. “I came to talk to my wife,” he said, his gaze finally locking on mine. “Mia, please—we can’t end this without setting everything in private.”

"We have nothing to talk about. Leave. Now." I said, freezing him on the spot.

Helga made a wounded noise, almost a whimper. “She’s… she’s angry, Nick. She hit me! Here, look at my face.”

I turned to my parents, my voice sharp. “She's lying! I didn’t even lay a finger on her."

Nick’s brow furrowed. “Since when did you become violent, Mia? Apologize to—”

“Don’t you dare,” I cut in sternly. “Don’t you stand there and pretend you don’t know exactly what she’s doing.”

My mother glanced between us, confusion giving way to suspicion. “What is she talking about?”

Helga sniffled, stepping closer to Nick. “She thinks I… that we—” She faltered, lowering her head like she couldn’t even bring herself to say it.

I laughed bitterly. “You can’t even say it out loud? Afraid the truth will burn your tongue?”

Nick’s eyes flashed irritation. “Mia, this isn’t helping. You’ve been gone for two months, and now you come back and—”

I held up my hand. “Stop talking like I abandoned you. I left for work. My career. The same one you claimed to support—right up until you found someone to fill in the bay.”

I glared at Helga, but the bitch didn't budge. The air in the hallway thickened. My father shifted his stance, clearly fighting the urge to intervene while my mother’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Helga stepped into the silence like she owned it. “You’re twisting everything. I was here for him when you weren’t. I was—”

“You were in my house,” I snapped, my voice breaking. “In my bed. With my husband.”

Nick inhaled sharply. “Enough!” His voice boomed, the sudden volume making even Helga flinch. “This is between us, Mia. Don't involve them in our problem.”

I squared my shoulders. “You made it their business when you brought my whore sister into it.”

Helga shifted, her gaze flicking toward my parents as if weighing how much more she could milk the moment. And then—she tilted her head, feigning hurt. “You don’t understand, Mia… I love him.”

My father swore under his breath. My mother’s hand went to her mouth.

Nick rubbed his temples, muttering, “This isn’t how I wanted this to happen.”

Something cold settled in my stomach. “How you wanted this to happen?” I asked slowly, biting back the bile rising in my throat.

He hesitated, and in that hesitation, the answer was clear. He wasn’t surprised she’d said it.

“You’ve been planning this,” I said, my voice quiet but laced with venom. “Both of you.”

Helga stepped closer to him, her shoulder brushing his. “We didn’t plan to hurt you. But… your absence brought us together. He's a cold-blooded man with needs... And we just found each other's affection like the very air that we breathe.”

I stared at them, the urge to scream clawing at my throat, but I swallowed it down. They wanted the spectacle. I wouldn’t give it to them. I picked up my bag and the box from my room, brushing past Nick toward the door. “You can have each other,” I said without looking back. “But you’ll never have me in your lives again.”

“You don't have to. Come on, Mia, stop! —” Nick started, but I headed to the porch.

Outside, the cool air hit my face like a slap I didn’t mind. I made it halfway to the gate before my mother called my name. I turned, expecting her to plead with me to stay, to talk it out. But she wasn’t looking at me. She was staring at Nick, her eyes wide.

“Nick,” she said, her tone sharp, “where’s your wedding ring?”

Nick froze. His gaze flicked to Helga. And Helga—smiling faintly—slid her hand into her pocket and pulled something out. A gold band. Mine.

She rolled it between her fingers before letting it drop into her palm. “I found this under the bed yesterday," she said sweetly. “I thought Mia might want it back.”

My stomach heaved painfully. This only meant one thing—they’d been doing it in my parents’ house, too.