My Husband Used My Baby to Save His Mistress's Son

The lock clicked at noon. I looked up from the bed. A woman stood in the doorway. White silk blouse. White linen pants. White heels. She looked like she'd stepped out of a magazine. Her dark hair fell in perfect waves past her shoulders. She smiled.

"Sofia," she said. "I'm Carmen."

I sat up slowly. My hand moved to my stomach. The baby shifted.

Carmen walked in. She moved like she owned the room. Like she owned the building. She glanced around the medical suite—the monitors, the IV stand, the locked door behind her—and her smile widened. "They're taking good care of you."

I said nothing.

She pulled a chair close to the bed and sat. Crossed her legs. Folded her hands in her lap. "I wanted to meet you. Finally. Ryker's told me so much."

I pressed my thumb into my palm.

"The children are downstairs," she continued. Her voice was warm. Confiding. Like we were old friends. "Elena and Marcus. They're four now. Can you believe it? Time moves so fast. Elena has Ryker's eyes. Marcus has his stubbornness." She laughed softly. "Last summer we took them to Provence. There's a villa there. Stone walls. Lavender fields. Ryker proposed to me there. Well—" She paused. Tilted her head. "Not officially, of course. But in every way that matters."

I kept my face still. Blank. I would not give her anything.

Carmen leaned forward. "Marcus said his first word there. 'Papa.' Ryker cried. I'd never seen him cry before." Her eyes searched mine. "Has he ever cried with you?"

I didn't answer.

She sat back. "We've been designing the new nursery. For the baby. In London. Cream and gold. There's a mural—a forest scene with little animals. Ryker picked it out himself. He's so excited. He keeps talking about how this baby will save our son."

The baby kicked. Hard. I flinched.

Carmen noticed. Her smile sharpened. "You must be wondering why I'm here. Why I came all this way." She smoothed her blouse. "I wanted to say thank you. For doing this. For carrying our solution. It's very generous of you."

I looked at her. Really looked. Her face was beautiful. Composed. But her eyes were cold. Empty. Like looking into a frozen lake.

"You're nothing," I said quietly.

Her smile vanished.

"You're nothing," I repeated. "And you know it. That's why you're here. That's why you needed to see me. To make sure I know what you have. Because if I don't know—if I don't care—then it doesn't count."

Carmen stood. Her chair scraped back. "You think you're brave?"

"I think you're scared."

Her hand shot out. She grabbed the letter opener from the bedside table. I recognized it. Silver handle. Engraved with Ryker's initials. From his desk in the study.

She held it up. "Ryker gave me this. Years ago. He said I could have anything of his I wanted."

I didn't move.

Carmen stepped closer. Her face was calm again. Smooth. "You need to understand something, Sofia. You were never real to him. You were a duty. A debt. A placeholder. I am the life he chose. I am the woman he loves. And when this is over, you'll disappear. Completely."

"Then why are you here?"

She drove the letter opener through my palm.

The pain was white. Instant. Blinding. The blade went through my hand and into the wooden armrest beneath. I screamed. Tried to pull back. The metal held. Blood ran down my wrist. Hot. Fast.

Carmen leaned in close. Her breath was warm on my face. "Because I wanted you to know."

I wrenched my hand free. The blade tore through skin. Muscle. I lunged at her. My nails raked across her face. She stumbled back. I grabbed her hair. Her perfect hair. Pulled hard. She screamed.

The door burst open. Ryker. He crossed the room in three strides. His hands locked around my arms from behind. He yanked me back. I twisted. Tried to break free. My bleeding hand left red streaks on his shirt.

"Stop," he said.

I didn't stop. I kicked. Thrashed. My elbow hit his ribs. He grunted. Then his foot slammed into my stomach. Once. Hard. The impact folded me in half. I hit the floor. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't see. Pain radiated from my abdomen in waves. Hot. Sharp. Wrong.

I looked down. Blood. Not from my hand. From between my legs. Dark. Spreading.

Ryker's face went white. He shouted something. People rushed in. Nurses. The doctor from yesterday. Hands lifted me onto a gurney. Voices overlapped. Someone pressed gauze to my hand. Someone else checked my pulse. The gurney moved fast. Down the hall. Through doors. Bright lights overhead.

I turned my head. Carmen stood in the doorway of the medical suite. White silk. White pants. Red scratches down her cheek. She was smiling.

Then the lights got brighter. And everything went dark.