I Lost Our Baby Saving My Husband’s Mistress

Maria Rodriguez had barely stepped out of the villa when her phone rang. It was Mrs. Miller—the caretaker of the family estate. At this late hour, Maria’s first thought went to Poppy Thomas, the only member of the Rodriguez family who had ever shown her a shred of kindness. She couldn’t ignore the call.

"Maria, get to the estate. Now." Mrs. Miller’s voice was clipped, no room for argument, and she still called her "Miss Rodriguez," same as always. Maria might’ve married into the family, but to the Rodriguez staff, she’d never be anything but an outsider.

Worry for Mrs. Thomas kicked through her. Maria set her luggage down and headed straight for the estate. Easton wouldn’t be home tonight—or anytime soon, really. Once she knew Mrs. Thomas was safe, she could come back for her things.

The family estate loomed up as Maria arrived. She walked in to find Mrs. Miller waiting by the door. "Mrs. Miller, what happened with Grandma?" she asked, breathless.

Mrs. Miller’s face pinched with irritation. "The old lady’s fine. It’s Mrs. Rodriguez who can’t sleep. She’s been waiting for you to give her one of her aromatherapy massages."

Easton’s mother, Lauren Rodriguez, had never approved of Maria. To her, Maria wasn’t Easton’s wife—she was a servant to be summoned whenever the mood struck. No. Less than a servant. At least Mrs. Rodriguez treated the staff with a little courtesy. Even now, knowing Maria was pregnant, she’d demanded her presence at this godawful hour. The contempt in Mrs. Miller’s eyes was plain, but for once, Maria didn’t rush to cater to Mrs. Rodriguez’s every whim.

Relief washed through Maria when she heard Poppy Thomas was all right—then, just as fast, the pain she’d been holding back came roaring up. A searing ache tore through her chest and abdomen, fresh from the trauma. She needed rest. She turned toward the stairs.

Mrs. Miller clearly hadn’t expected defiance. She blocked Maria’s path. "The old lady won’t be back for a while. She’s away at the resort with her friends." It was a warning wrapped in a fact. In this house, Maria had no allies.

But Maria was done being afraid—of Mrs. Rodriguez’s displeasure, of Easton’s disdain, of all of it. "If she can’t sleep, maybe she should take a sleeping pill," Maria said flatly, and kept walking.

Mrs. Miller looked stunned. The once-docile young woman had grown a backbone. She hurried upstairs to tattle, and almost instantly, Mrs. Rodriguez appeared outside Maria’s bedroom, shrill and furious. "What? I’m your mother-in-law—am I not worth your respect anymore? Don’t think carrying a Rodriguez baby secures your place here. If the old lady hadn’t insisted, do you think Easton would’ve ever let you have his child?"

The words spilled out of her, all disdain, unchecked now that Poppy Thomas was away. Maria lay in bed, too weak and in too much pain to open her eyes, let alone answer.

When Maria stayed silent, Mrs. Rodriguez’s frustration boiled over. She dialed Easton. "Son, Maria’s making trouble at the estate in the middle of the night," she complained.

Maria didn’t know when the pain had dragged her under, but she woke to the loud sound of her bedroom door being forced open. The servants had unlocked it. Easton walked in, cold as winter.

He stood by her bed, his expression colder than she’d ever seen it. "Weren’t you dying when you called me?" he taunted.

Was he disappointed she hadn’t died like he’d expected? She was alive—but their child was gone. If he’d believed her, if he’d come to the hospital sooner, maybe the baby could’ve been saved. But in this heartless world, there were no if onlys.

Despite everything, Maria felt compelled to defend herself. "I didn’t lie to you—"

"Spare me the act. And stop using the baby to get my attention," Easton cut in harshly.

He’d just come back from the lakefront villa, worried when he couldn’t find her, almost fearing the worst. Yet here she was, causing drama at the estate because he hadn’t fallen for her tricks. His face darkened with anger. "I never wanted the child."

She’d braced herself for his indifference, but hearing it said so bluntly still made her tremble. Did he think she had no feelings, that his every word and action didn’t cut her to the bone? Maria met his gaze without flinching. "As you wish. It’s already—"

Her words were cut off by Easton’s phone ringing. He answered fast. "Don’t worry, I’ll be right there…" he soothed into the phone.

"Don’t let foolish thoughts tempt you. My patience with you is limited." It was his parting shot before he turned and walked out.

Maria couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. They fell, unchecked. She’d seen the name on his phone: Darling. No need to guess who that was. In his contacts, she was just an unmarked number.

"Stop crying. Get up and give me a massage. You heard my son—defy me again, and I’ll have him divorce you!" Mrs. Rodriguez’s voice sliced through Maria’s grief. Maria’s defiance startled her; she couldn’t believe the girl would risk everything she’d worked so hard to gain.

Then, unexpectedly, Maria slid back under the covers. "Do what you want," she said, indifferent.

To Mrs. Rodriguez, that defiance was an insult. She marched to the bed and dragged Maria out. "You think because you’re pregnant, I won’t dare touch you? Someone drag her out of here—and bring me something to teach her the rules of this house!"

The servants shoved Maria to the floor. She curled onto her side, guarding her surgical wounds. Mrs. Rodriguez took a golf club from Mrs. Miller. "You manipulated my son, used the press to force him into marriage, and now you think you can tie him down with a child?" She swung. Maria threw up her arm, taking the blow across her forearm and shoulder.

Maria fought to pull free, but the servants pinned her down. Pain tore through her injured body, and her cries echoed through the room. Mrs. Rodriguez stopped only when Mrs. Miller gasped, "She’s passed out!"

Mrs. Rodriguez froze, fear flickering across her face. "Mrs. Miller, is she bleeding?" she demanded.

"There’s no bleeding," Mrs. Miller said after checking Maria.

A relieved breath rushed out of Mrs. Rodriguez. "Stubborn as she is," she scoffed, "but no more hitting—at least not until Poppy’s back."

Looking down at the unconscious Maria, Mrs. Rodriguez seethed. "She’s bewitched the old lady somehow. Forced Easton to marry her under false pretenses, and now she’s forcing this child on us!"

Her anger still burning, she commanded, "Lock her in the storeroom. If the old lady finds out…"

Mrs. Miller hesitated, but a sharp look from Mrs. Rodriguez silenced her. "Keep her alive. That’s all. If the child doesn’t make it until Poppy returns, so be it. We’ll say she lost it in a fall."

With a cruel smile, Mrs. Rodriguez dismissed the staff, leaving Maria unconscious on the floor. Mrs. Miller chuckled. "As you wish, madam."