Give Birth to my Baby, Only to be Disregarded as His Mother

My words hung in the heavy silence of the living room.

Sandro stared at the diamond ring resting near Paula’s feet, his chest heaving. For a split second, I saw genuine shock in his eyes.

He couldn't comprehend that his docile, dying wife—the woman who had spent years begging for his scraps of affection—was walking away.

Then, the shock melted away, replaced by a dark, furious red that crept up his neck.

His mocking laughter died. He snatched the black folder from his chest, his knuckles turning white as he violently tore the divorce papers in half, then in half again, throwing the shredded pieces at my feet.

"You don't leave until I say you leave," he snarled, his voice dropping into a vicious, controlling register. "You think you can just walk out of here and make demands? You aren't getting a divorce, Candice. You are going to sit down, sign the gag order, and sign the full parental surrender tonight. If you don't, I promise you, I will make whatever miserable months you have left a living hell."

From the couch, Paula clutched my baby tighter to her chest, her eyes wide with manufactured terror. "Sandro, don't let her go!" she cried out, perfectly playing the victim. "She's crazy! What if she goes to the press and ruins our reputation? She'll tell them lies about us!"

I didn't even look at her. I didn't look at my mother, who was watching me with silent condemnation.

I simply turned my back on all of them and continued walking toward the heavy mahogany front doors.

Being ignored completely shattered the last of Sandro’s restraint.

"I'm talking to you!" he roared.

I heard his heavy footsteps behind me just a second before he lunged. His large hand clamped down roughly on my arm, yanking me backward.

"What on earth is going on here?!"

The sharp, authoritative voice cut through the foyer. My mother—Eleanor—finally stepped out of the living room, her face pale with fury.

But her anger wasn't directed at Sandro for manhandling me. It was directed entirely at me.

"Are you out of your mind, Candice?" Eleanor hissed, marching toward us. "A divorce? You are not leaving this house! Do you have any idea what a scandal will do to the company shares your father left you?"

I stared at her, my chest aching. "Is that all you care about? The shares? My husband is sleeping with Paula, he stole my child, and I am dying, Mother!"

"Don't call me that!" Eleanor snapped, her upper lip curling in absolute disgust.

The words struck me like a physical blow. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.

Eleanor glared at me, years of hidden venom finally spilling over. "I am not your mother. I never was. I should have left you in the gutter where your whore of a mother died!"

My blood ran cold. My breath caught in my throat as the floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

"What... what are you saying?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"You really thought my husband would leave his entire legacy to you out of love?" Eleanor laughed bitterly. "You are the bastard child of his favorite mistress! He forced me to take you in to save his reputation. He gave you the controlling shares of the company out of guilt! I only married you off to Sandro so we could keep the business in the family and keep you under control!"

She pointed a trembling, manicured finger at my face. "You owe us everything, you ungrateful wretch! You will stay here, you will sign those shares over to Sandro, and you will die quietly without ruining Paula's future!"

Heartbreak, sharp and agonizing, tore through my chest.

My whole life was a lie. The woman I had spent twenty-four years trying to please, the sister I had loved, the husband I had devoted my soul to—they had all been using me.

I was nothing but a pawn, a dirty secret they kept around just to drain my father's inheritance.

The tears I had sworn not to shed pricked my eyes, but as I looked at their greedy, hateful faces, the sorrow instantly hardened into ice.

"You can keep the shares," I whispered, my voice eerily hollow. "Keep the money. Keep the lies."

With a sudden, violent burst of adrenaline, I ripped my arm out of Sandro's grip.

Before he could grab me again, I shoved the heavy mahogany doors open and stumbled out into the freezing, pouring rain.

The storm soaked me to the bone instantly, but I didn't stop. I hurried down the marble steps of the porch, the cold wind whipping my hair across my face.

"Candice!" Sandro roared, chasing me out onto the covered porch. "If you walk down those steps, you're dead! I'll freeze your accounts! You'll die in the streets!"

I kept walking down the driveway, the rain washing away my tears.

"Guards! Grab her!" Sandro barked into the storm.

Two burly mansion security guards rushed out from the side of the house, sprinting through the rain to intercept me.

But before they could even reach me, the blinding glare of headlights pierced the darkness.

“Don’t you dare touch what’s mine,” a voice thundered.