My Husband Killed My Father for Power

“Give me the phone!” Nathan’s expression twisted with panic as he lunged at me, grabbing for my wrist.

In the struggle, my injured leg slammed against the floor. A sharp bolt of pain shot through me, and for a moment, everything went black.

When I came to, the phone was gone.

He stood above me, breathing heavily, deleting the photos one by one. Sweat beaded on his forehead—not from guilt, but from exertion. Always a germaphobe, he wiped his hands in disgust and threw me a cold look.

“Madeline, get her out.”

He turned and stalked into the lounge bathroom without another glance.

Madeline approached, her fingers lightly grazing her lower abdomen as she looked down on me with smug contempt.

“I’m pregnant,” she said sweetly. “Nathan said our child will be the only heir of the Blake Family.”

Pregnant?

I blinked slowly, bitterness pooling in my throat.

Once, I was pregnant with Nathan’s child too.

But while he was on the phone with Madeline, I mistakenly took expired vitamins at home—alone. The baby died that night. And he never came home.

Now, the pain in my leg made it hard to even breathe, but I forced myself to stand.

“Heir?” I laughed bitterly. “As long as I’m still his wife, your child is nothing more than an illegitimate one.”

Her smile faltered. But I didn’t stop.

“I’ll give you what you want—I’ll divorce Nathan. You can have the title of Mrs. Blake. But I want the dagger.”

Madeline narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid? If I give you that dagger, Nathan could go down with your father’s case. You want me to trade his future for a title?”

“It’s true he cheated on me. If I press the issue, I could make him leave the marriage penniless. And you?” I paused, watching her expression tighten. “What if you end up raising that child alone?”

I took a step closer.

“I’ll sign an agreement. I won’t touch Nathan. I won’t even ask him to testify. If I break it, the villa my father left me will be yours—fully transferred.”

She hesitated. I could see the gears turning in her mind.

Madeline had played the long game—pretending to be the perfect woman, worming her way into Nathan’s heart—all for money.

The villa was worth more than enough to tempt her.

But she still frowned. “You’ve been married seven years. What if he doesn’t divorce you? Every time I brought it up, Nathan snapped at me.”

She mimicked his voice: “Madeline, I can give you anything—but not a divorce. I owe Eva too much. Her father raised me. And the company can’t survive without her.”

She used to accept being his hidden mistress. But now that she was pregnant, she couldn’t stand the thought of her child being a secret.

I didn’t reply. I kept glancing toward the lounge door, afraid Nathan would overhear us.

She mistook my silence for weakness.

“I don’t buy it,” she sneered. “What if he still clings to you? What if I’m left looking like the villain?”

Then, her eyes gleamed with an idea.

“Let’s test it. Let’s see who he really chooses.”

She walked over to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a lighter—like she’d done it a hundred times before.

Without warning, she set fire to the curtains.

Flames leapt to life, crawling rapidly up the fabric. The room filled with smoke in seconds.

“Are you insane?!” I gasped, limping toward the door.

But she grabbed my wrist tightly. “Why are you in such a hurry to leave? The real show’s just starting.”

She shoved me deeper into the room, back toward the growing inferno.

The smoke thickened, and soon visibility dropped to nearly zero.

Then, from within the haze, I heard him.

“Eva? Madeline? What’s happening?!”

I coughed violently, struggling to stay upright. My legs trembled beneath me.

“Eva!” Nathan’s voice came closer, panicked. “Where are you?!”

I felt his arms around me. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll get you out.”

For a moment, the urgency in his voice felt real. The Nathan who once loved me... flickered back to life.

He soaked a towel and gently covered my face, then lifted me onto his back.

But just as we reached the hallway, a sharp cry pierced the smoke.

“Nathan! Help me! My throat— I can’t breathe!”

It was Madeline, crouched in a corner, her hands cradling her belly in mock terror.

Nathan froze.

He turned his head and saw her—coughing, crying, clinging to the walls like she was about to collapse.

I felt his hesitation like a dagger in my spine.

She coughed harder, her voice hoarse, her expression pleading.

And just like that, he set me down.

His voice cracked. “Eva… she’s pregnant. I can’t risk it. Wait here—I’ll come back for you.”

He didn’t wait for my response.

He turned and disappeared into the smoke, toward Madeline.

I sat slumped on the floor, alone in the heat and haze. The wet towel on my face had turned scalding, pressing against my skin like fire.

But the burn in my chest hurt far worse.