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

The address Sydney had given me led to a narrow alley in Brooklyn's shadowy underbelly. I pulled my hood lower over my face as I approached the unmarked door, my heart hammering against my ribs. The sign above read simply "Botanica," though I knew this was no ordinary herbal shop.

"Are you sure about this?" Sydney whispered beside me, her voice barely audible over the distant traffic.

"Absolutely," I replied, my voice steady despite the chill that ran down my spine. "This is the only way."

I'd spent weeks researching the Gemini Blood Pact, but all the conventional sources had yielded nothing. It was Sydney who'd finally uncovered this place—a underground occult shop frequented by those who dealt in darker magics.

The bell jangled softly as we entered. Inside, the shop was dimly lit, filled with shelves of jarred herbs, dried plants, and ancient texts. A woman with silver-streaked hair looked up from behind the counter, her eyes narrowing as she assessed us.

"First timers," she stated rather than asked, her accent thick with something unplaceable.

I stepped forward, removing my hood just enough to show my face while keeping my features partially shadowed. "I need information about the Gemini Blood Pact."

The woman's expression didn't change, but something shifted in her eyes—a calculation, an assessment of what I might be willing to pay.

"Breaking a pact is dangerous business," she said finally. "Especially one already in motion."

"I'm aware of the risks," I replied coldly. "I need to know how to reverse it violently."

She studied me for a long moment before nodding once. "Follow me."

In the back room, surrounded by ancient texts and bubbling concoctions, she explained what I needed—a catalyst to break the supernatural bond between Kaia and me.

"Wolfsbane and Mugwort," she said, grinding dried leaves between her fingers. "Combined in a specific ratio and ingested at the moment of highest magical tension."

"What constitutes 'highest magical tension'?" I asked.

"When the curse is actively transferring energy between the two parties." Her eyes met mine. "When pain is being shared."

I nodded, understanding perfectly. "And the dosage?"

"Enough to feel it burn," she replied cryptically. "Too little, and nothing happens. Too much..."

She didn't need to finish the sentence.

---

"These are the final documents," Mr. Harrington said, sliding the papers across his polished desk. "Once signed, Mr. Matthews will no longer have any authority over your trust fund."

I examined the papers carefully, noting the clauses that would transfer my assets—worth millions—into offshore accounts accessible only by Sydney and myself.

"And the divorce papers?" I asked, my voice cool and detached.

He handed me another folder. "Everything is prepared, Mrs. Matthews. Just add the date when you're ready."

I ran my fingers over the blank line where the date should go. Soon. Very soon.

"Your discretion is appreciated," I said, signing the final document with a flourish.

"Of course," he replied with a slight bow. "Your family has been our client for generations. We understand the importance of... privacy."

As I left the lawyer's office, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. The financial noose that had kept me tethered to Luca was now severed. I was free—or would be, once I executed the final phase of my plan.

---

"Dr. Whitfield is here," Sydney announced, appearing at the doorway of my dressing room.

I nodded, setting down the small vial of wolfsbane and mugwort mixture I'd been preparing. "Perfect timing."

I found the doctor in the main hall, his medical bag in hand and concern etched across his features.

"Mrs. Matthews," he greeted me with a curt nod. "I'm here to check on Ms. Salazar. She's been experiencing some... unusual symptoms."

"Has she?" I raised an eyebrow. "How unfortunate."

I fell into step beside him as he headed toward the east wing. "Dr. Whitfield, has it occurred to you that Kaia's condition might be psychosomatic?"

He paused, looking at me with surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Eight babies," I said softly. "It's extraordinary. Perhaps the strain is affecting her mind as well as her body?"

Before he could respond, we reached Kaia's suite. She was lying on the bed, her face pale and drawn.

"Valeria," she hissed when she saw me. "What is she doing here?"

"Mrs. Matthews was just expressing concern about your well-being," Dr. Whitfield said smoothly, setting down his bag.

As he approached the bed to examine her, I discreetly dug my fingernails into my palm, drawing blood.

Kaia's scream was immediate and piercing. "Don't touch me!" she shrieked, jerking away from the doctor's outstretched hand. "It burns! Everything burns!"

Dr. Whitfield looked bewildered as he withdrew his hand. "Ms. Salazar, I haven't even touched you yet."

Kaia's eyes darted wildly between us, her breathing ragged. "She's doing something to me," she insisted, tears streaming down her face. "I know she is!"

The doctor's expression shifted subtly—doubt creeping into his eyes as he looked at my husband's mistress with new uncertainty.

Perhaps, I thought with cold satisfaction, the seeds of doubt had been planted after all.