My Husband’s Mistress Drained My Life to Bear His Heirs

I stared at Luca across the breakfast table, watching as his expression shifted from confusion to anger. The morning sunlight streaming through the windows caught the gold flecks in his eyes—eyes that once made my heart race but now seemed as cold and distant as a stranger's.

"You've been different lately," he said, setting down his coffee cup with deliberate precision. "Distant. Cold."

I took a sip of my own coffee, savoring the bitter warmth. "Have I?"

"Your behavior toward Kaia is... unacceptable." His voice dropped lower, taking on the authoritative tone he used in boardrooms. "She's carrying our children, Valeria. She deserves respect."

In my previous life, this moment had shattered me. I'd begged for his love, for any scrap of affection he might spare me. I'd cried, screamed, pleaded—all to no avail.

Now, I simply studied his face and wondered how I'd ever found it handsome.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you," he continued, mistaking my silence for hurt. "Kaia is here because she's helping our family. Your attitude needs to change."

I set my cup down carefully, aligning it perfectly with the saucer. "You're right."

The words surprised him. His eyebrows rose slightly.

"About what?" he asked.

"About needing a change." I met his gaze directly. "I'll move to the guest house today."

The shock on his face was almost worth the pain of this entire charade. In my previous life, I'd fought tooth and nail against being banished from our bedroom. Now, I was offering it freely.

"That's... not necessary," he stammered.

"I think it is," I replied coolly. "For Kaia's comfort. After all, she's carrying the Matthews heir."

Luca's expression shifted, calculation replacing surprise. He thought he understood—that I was finally accepting my place, stepping aside gracefully.

"Fine," he said finally. "If that's what you want."

---

The charity luncheon was in full swing on the estate's terrace, Manhattan's elite mingling under white umbrellas while servers circulated with champagne and delicate canapés. I watched from the kitchen doorway as Kaia held court at the center of it all, her hand resting protectively over her still-flat stomach.

"The Matthews miracle," I heard someone murmur. "Eight babies!"

I slipped into the kitchen proper, where the staff was frantically plating the next course. The head chef glanced up as I entered.

"Mrs. Matthews, can I help you?"

"I'm just checking on the preparation," I said smoothly. "Everything looks wonderful."

I moved to the prep station where a bowl of fresh peppers sat—bright red habaneros, their surfaces glossy with capsaicin. My fingers closed around one.

"Those are extremely hot, ma'am," the sous chef warned.

I smiled. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

In one fluid motion, I bit into the pepper, chewing slowly as the fire erupted across my tongue and down my throat. The pain was immediate and intense—but I'd prepared for this.

I'd learned to compartmentalize pain in ways I never imagined possible during those final days of my previous life.

Through the kitchen window, I could see Kaia laughing at something Eleanor had said. I took another deliberate bite of the pepper, feeling the heat spread through my system.

Suddenly, Kaia's laughter cut off mid-sentence. Her face flushed bright red, then drained of color. She clutched at her throat, gasping for air as sweat beaded instantly on her forehead.

"Are you alright?" Eleanor demanded, her voice rising with alarm.

Kaia's eyes darted around wildly before finding mine through the kitchen window. Her expression contorted with panic as she realized what was happening.

"I—I don't know," she choked out, tears streaming down her face. "It burns! Everything burns!"

She stumbled to her feet, knocking over a glass of water that soaked the front of her silk dress. The stain spread across her abdomen like a wound.

"I need to lie down," she gasped, doubling over.

---

For three nights, I paced the floors of the guest house, fueled by black coffee and cold determination. Sleep eluded me by choice rather than circumstance.

On the first night, I heard Kaia's voice drifting through the wall: "I can't sleep! Something's wrong!"

By the second night, her cries had turned to hysteria. "She's doing something to me! I know she is!"

On the third night, I heard Luca's voice, tense and frustrated: "Kaia, please calm down. You're going to harm the babies with all this stress."

I sipped my coffee, watching dawn break over the estate grounds. My body ached for sleep, but my mind remained razor-sharp.

A soft knock at my door announced Sydney's arrival with news.

"She hasn't slept in three days," Sydney reported, her eyes wide with amazement. "Dr. Whitfield prescribed sedatives, but they're not working. Luca's at his wit's end."

I nodded, setting down my empty mug. "And how are you holding up?"

"Exhausted," Sydney admitted. "But it's working, isn't it?"

I moved to the window, watching as Luca paced the terrace below, phone pressed to his ear. Even from this distance, I could see the strain in his shoulders.

"Yes," I said quietly. "It's working. But this is just the beginning."

As if hearing my words, Luca looked up suddenly, his eyes meeting mine through the glass. For the first time since my rebirth, I saw something new in his expression.

Fear.