I Lost Our Baby Saving My Husband’s Mistress

Maria placed the picture frame in her safe and was about to head downstairs when Easton knocked. "Get ready. We’re going to see Grandma," he said.

It wasn’t a husband checking in with his wife. It was a boss handing down an order—because that was exactly how he’d always treated her.

Listening to his footsteps fade down the stairs, Maria glanced at the suitcase by her feet. Her eyes dimmed. Yes, she did need to go. Not just to say goodbye to Grandma—but to settle the score with Piper and her mother.

In the past, she wouldn’t have bothered with what they’d done to her. But now? She intended to get justice for herself. She’d never planned to let them off the hook anyway; she was just moving up her timeline.

Her body still ached from her injuries, so she changed into loose athletic wear—loose enough that no one could tell whether her belly was still slightly rounded.

By the time Maria came downstairs, Easton was already gone. He never waited for her. Waiting wasn’t in his nature.

She headed to the garage and found that Easton hadn’t left yet. "Get in," he ordered.

If she’d had a choice, Maria wouldn’t have ridden with him. But she’d checked herself out of the hospital early, and she didn’t have the energy to argue. Without giving it much thought, she reached for the passenger door—only to find it wouldn’t budge.

She glanced at Easton. Their eyes met, but his expression was as unreadable as ever. Her grip tightened on the door handle. Maria said nothing and climbed into the back seat.

The moment she got in, an overpowering cloud of perfume hit her from the front seat. She didn’t need to ask whose it was. The passenger seat was Kylie’s territory—one Maria wasn’t allowed to occupy. Just like Easton’s heart.

When they pulled up to the manor’s grand entrance, Easton finally broke the silence. "Act like you did just now once we’re inside," he instructed before getting out.

Unlike before, Maria hadn’t said a single word on the drive over. She hadn’t focused on him. She hadn’t tried to get his attention. She was so quiet she might as well have been invisible.

After five years, she’d finally become what he’d always wanted. Yet, for some reason, this version of her irritated him even more.

Watching Easton stride confidently ahead, Maria smiled bitterly. Even when it was just scolding or orders, I used to be thrilled whenever you spoke to me, she thought. Because apart from those moments, he barely acknowledged she existed.

It was just as Vance Perry had said: in her quest to love Easton, she’d sacrificed everything—including her dignity—and become nothing more than a doormat. "Easton, maybe I should thank you for telling me to drop dead," she murmured. Otherwise, she didn’t know how many more years she would’ve wasted on him.

Regaining her composure, Maria followed him out of the car.

Before she even crossed the threshold, Poppy Thomas came out to greet her. "Maria…" the older woman called warmly.

Seeing her approach, Maria quickened her pace. "Careful, Grandma," she urged.

At seventy-five, Poppy wasn’t especially old, but her health wasn’t great. She’d recently fallen down the stairs and broken her right leg, and she’d been bedridden for three months.

The moment Maria reached her, Poppy clasped her hand. "Why are your hands so cold? And you don’t look well. Did that scoundrel bully you again?" Poppy’s words were like a soothing balm, filling Maria with warmth and a hint of sorrow.

"Grandma, I just…" The truth—I’m divorcing Easton!—almost slipped out. Five years ago, when the entire Rodriguez family believed she had spiked Easton’s drink and tipped off reporters to wait outside the hotel suite, Poppy had stood by her. Maria would never forget what she’d said: "Don’t cry, sweetheart. I believe you." Poppy hadn’t just believed her—she’d made sure Easton married her, and for five years she’d treated Maria like her own granddaughter.

Thinking back on all of it, Maria swallowed the words and said instead, "I’m just a little underdressed."

Even if she told Poppy the truth, now wasn’t the time. At least not before sharing one last Thanksgiving meal together.

Poppy relaxed at Maria’s words. "You’re almost four months pregnant now. Your emotions can have a big effect on the baby, so don’t keep everything bottled up like you used to. If anyone gives you trouble, tell Grandma, and I’ll take care of it!"

"…Okay," Maria agreed, her voice full of gratitude.

Inside the house, Piper and her mother were peering out the window, whispering to each other.

"That little brat better not be snitching to Grandma," Piper’s mother fretted. Ever since Poppy had called Easton to bring Maria home, she’d been anxious. "I thought a couple of days would’ve done her in, but she’s still alive and kicking. That girl is a thorn in my side!"

Unlike her mother, Piper remained calm. "Mom, I told you, there’s no need to panic. You know Maria. We’ve bullied her behind Grandma’s back for years, and not once has she dared to make a peep. Even if Grandma favors her, it won’t change anything. No matter what we did to her, she’d always swallow her pride—because she knows better than anyone that if she confronted us, it would only make Easton hate her more."

Piper’s mother brightened at her daughter’s confidence. "You’re right. To win Easton over, she’d probably eat dirt if we told her to."

Piper’s eyes lit up. "I haven’t tried that one yet. Let’s find a chance and see."

Seeing Easton enter, Piper’s mother nudged her arm. "Enough talk. Your brother’s here."

Piper’s expression changed instantly. She bounced over to Easton. "Easton, you’re back!"

"You’re way too old to act like a kid," Easton teased, though his voice held a trace of affection. She was his only sister, eight years younger.

"She’s just a free spirit," her mother added, shooting a pointed look at Maria as she came in with Poppy. Lowering her voice, she continued, "Unlike some people, who are full of nothing but malice."

She pitched it just low enough that Poppy, whose hearing had gotten bad, wouldn’t catch it.

Maria heard it anyway. She walked straight up to Piper’s mother, stopping where Poppy could see the bruises on her arm. Then she raised her voice. "I’m sorry I couldn’t give you that massage in the middle of the night. I’d just been discharged from the hospital. I should have explained myself more clearly."