My Husband Chose His Mistress, So I Let Him Lose Everything

Sophia’s Pov

When I opened my eyes everything was white. The ceiling, the lights, the sheets.

Even the dull ache in my chest felt white—empty and lifeless.

I blinked slowly, my eyes still swollen. My throat burned like someone had poured acid down it. My head throbbed, pulsing with the rhythm of my heartbeat.

“You’re awake,” a voice said gently.

I turned my head toward the figure in the white coat. It was a doctor with kind eyes and a tired face.

“You were severely allergic to something in the air… jasmine, I believe?” he said, flipping through his chart. “You’re lucky someone found you when they did.”

I didn’t feel lucky. I felt hollow.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Like I’m still dying,” I rasped.

He gave me a small nod. “You’ve suffered quite a bit of trauma, but that’s not all.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He looked at me carefully—like he didn’t know where to begin.

“You’re three weeks pregnant, Mrs. Moretti.”

The room swayed.

Pregnant? My lips parted, but no sound came out.

How could I be pregnant?

The memory hit me like a slap.

That night. The stench of alcohol on his breath. The way he stumbled into the room, calling me Renata. The way he pinned me down, too drunk to see the difference. I had screamed, begged, tried to push him off—

But he’d already made up his mind.

“I want to terminate it,” I said.

The words were quiet, but sharp.

The doctor looked taken aback. “Are you… sure?”

“Yes.”

His eyes softened with pity. “You’re still recovering from the allergic reaction. You’ll need to wait a few more days—three, at most. Then we can proceed.”

I nodded once. I had made my decision, Lorenzo was a monster, I wasn't going to bring another child into the world for him to torment.

“How’s my daughter?” I asked, clearing my throat.

He hesitated. That split second of hesitation nearly stopped my heart.

“Didn’t your husband tell you?” he asked, brow furrowing.

My blood turned to ice.

I sat up—ignoring the pain tearing through my skull.

“Tell me what?”

He shifted awkwardly, searching for the right words. There were none.

“There was… a brain hemorrhage. Caused by the lack of oxygen.”

My breath caught in my lungs.

“Last night… we tried to operate. But we needed parental consent.”

He paused.

“We couldn’t reach you. And your husband… he said—”

He swallowed hard.

“He said he didn’t care if the bastard died. That she’s been a pain in the ass since she was born.”

I couldn’t breathe. The walls closed in. His voice kept speaking but it felt like it was coming from underwater.

“I’m sorry… your daughter didn’t make it.”

My ears rang.

Ariella. My sweet innocent baby girl.

I surged off the bed and grabbed the doctor by his coat.

“Where is she?! Where is my daughter?!”

Tears blurred my vision as I screamed in his face.

“WHERE IS SHE?!”

He tried to steady me. “Please—Mrs. Moretti—Sophia—Renata came earlier this morning. She… she claimed the body.”

I didn’t hear the rest.

I tore out of that hospital like a woman possessed.

—

The mansion gates were open. As if they were welcoming the devil back home.

I ran through the front doors, my throat raw from screaming, my chest caving in with every breath.

She was lounging on the couch like a queen. Legs crossed. A glass of wine in one hand. A wicked smile on her lips.

“Where is my daughter?!” I shouted.

Renata didn’t even flinch. She pressed the remote.

The television turned on.

A video began to play.

The screen showed a tiny, frail body—Ariella—gasping for air. Her lips were blue. Her chest heaving.

Doctors rushed around her, trying to revive her.

And then… they stopped.

The line on the monitor went flat.

I screamed. Covered my mouth. Collapsed to the floor.

“You bitch,” I sobbed. “You heartless bitch…”

Renata turned up the volume.

I looked up at her on the screen as Renata roughly dragged her lifeless body and tossed it into a big iron can and set it ablaze.

“This is your brat’s last moment on earth,” she said with a smile. “Touching, isn’t it?”

My heart broke into a million pieces as I stared at the horrific scene on the screen. The only thought running through my mind was how I had failed my daughter.

“How could you… how could you burn her without asking me?” I stuttered, my voice breaking.

“Oh, is this so heart breaking? Does it make you want to scream and hit me?” Renata laughed mockingly, “Wait till you hear what happened last night when the doctor called.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, dread already forming in the pit of my stomach like I knew what she wanted to say.

“What did you do?” I queried.

Renata giggled like a maniac, “The doctor called and I picked the call. I'm pregnant, Sophia, you don't expect me to save your brat, do the maths.”

“You had my daughter killed for some petty reasons? How could you?!” I yelled, fury radiating off me.

She shrugged. “Because I can.”

I stood up, ready to lunge at her when from behind her, she lifted a small glass jar.

“These are her ashes,” she said sweetly. “If you want what’s left of your brat… hit your head on the floor ten times.”

I stared at her. Surely she was bluffing.

But the look in her eyes told me she wasn’t.

I dropped to my knees.

“One… Two… Three,” she counted, giggling like a maniac.

By the fourth time, blood was running down my face. My vision was blurring. My ears were ringing.

“Seven… Eight.”

I was swaying now. Barely conscious.

“Ten!” She clapped mockingly.

“What a devoted little mother you are,” she said, stepping forward with the jar.

I reached out to take it, hands trembling, heart pounding.

But then—

She let go.

The jar hit the floor.

It shattered and my daughter’s ashes were scattered everywhere.