The Rise Of The Betrayed Wife

Isla's POV:

My husband, Declan, was on the bed, but he wasn't alone.

My stepsister, Sienna, was straddling him, her blonde hair cascading over her bare shoulders, her hands tangled in his hair, her mouth on his.

His hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer like he couldn't get enough.

The pregnancy results slipped from my fingers, fluttering to the floor.

They didn't notice me at first.

I stood there, frozen in the doorway, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. My hand moved instinctively to my stomach, to the tiny life growing inside me that I'd been so excited to tell him about.

This couldn't be real.

This couldn't be happening.

Declan's eyes flicked up and met mine.

He didn't scramble. He didn't push her off. He didn't even look guilty. He just stared at me, like I was the one intruding.

Sienna turned her head slowly, following his gaze. When she saw me standing there, a smile spread across her face. That wasn't the look of embarrassment, not shame. Amusement.

"Oh," she said with false sweetness. "You're home early, Isla."

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My chest felt tight, like someone had wrapped their hands around my lungs and squeezed.

The baby. I was carrying his baby, and he was here with her.

Declan shifted Sienna off his lap with an irritated sigh, like I'd interrupted something inconvenient. He didn't bother fixing his unbuttoned shirt. He didn't bother looking apologetic.

"Don't just stand there," he said coldly. "Close the door."

My hands shook at my sides.

Sienna laughed, soft and mocking. She stood up from the bed, adjusting her dress like this was nothing. Like I was nothing.

"What?" she said, tilting her head. "Did you really think he loved you? Did you think he actually wanted to touch you?"

The words hit me like physical blows.

"She can't even moan," Sienna continued, her smile widening. "She's mute and damaged. What kind of man wants a wife who can't even make a sound?" She looked back at Declan. "Tell her, darling. Tell her how much you've suffered."

Declan stood, buttoning his shirt with slow, deliberate movements.

"I've been enduring you for years, Isla," he said flatly. "Even before we got married. Do you know how tedious it is? How boring?"

My vision blurred from the sheer impossibility of what I was hearing.

My husband didn't even feel remorseful. Is this what has been going on behind my back?

"Why?" Sienna laughed again. "Why did he marry the barren mute?" She stepped closer to me, her eyes glittering. "Because I told him to, Isla. I told him to marry you, and wait for father to die, and then we get everything. The company. The properties. The inheritance. All of it."

My knees felt weak. I was on the verge of collapsing. I couldn't believe my ears and eyes. Could this be real? Or a dream?

"You were always just a placeholder," Declan said, his voice devoid of emotion. "A means to an end."

My hand moved to my pocket, fumbling for my phone. I needed proof. I needed evidence. I needed to show my father what they'd done, what they were planning.

The pregnancy results still lay on the floor between us, face-up. Sienna's eyes landed on them, and her expression changed instantly.

"What is that?" She bent down, snatching up the paper. Her eyes scanned it quickly, and her face twisted with rage. "You're pregnant?"

I tried to grab the paper back, but she jerked it away.

"You're trying to trap him!" she shrieked. "You think a baby will make him love you? You think this changes anything?"

She crumpled the paper in her fist.

I pulled out my phone with shaking hands, pointing it at them. I needed to record this. I needed someone to know the truth.

Sienna's eyes narrowed the moment she saw the phone.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I held it up higher, my finger hovering over the record button.

Declan's expression darkened. "Put the phone down, Isla."

I shook my head. Not this time. I wasn't backing down. Not when I had a child to protect.

Sienna moved fast, faster than I expected.

She lunged at me, her fingers clawing for the phone.

"Give it to me!" she hissed.

I jerked back, trying to keep it out of her reach, but she grabbed my wrist and yanked hard.

I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Just my hands moving frantically, desperately, trying to push her away.

"You stupid mute bitch," she snarled, her face contorted with fury. "You think anyone's going to believe you? You think anyone cares about you or that bastard baby?"

Declan didn't help. He just watched, with his arms crossed, like this was beneath him.

Sienna's nails dug into my skin as she twisted my arm. Pain shot up to my shoulder, but I held on tighter to the phone.

"Let go!" she screamed, as she shoved me hard, and I stumbled backward, my heel catching on the edge of the rug.

Everything slowed down, and my back hit the glass coffee table.

The sound of shattering glass filled the room.

Pain exploded across my skull, sharp and blinding. Warmth spread beneath my head, sticky and wet. I could smell the fain scent of blod. Too much blood. I tried to move, I tried to push myself up, but my body wouldn't respond.

Sienna stood over me, breathing hard, my phone now in her hand.

Declan finally moved. He stepped closer, looking down at me with wide eyes. For a moment, I thought I saw fear.

"Sienna," he said, his voice shaking. "What did you do?"

"What she deserved," Sienna said coldly. She crouched down beside me, and to my horror, she smiled.

Her hand reached out, gently petting my hair like I was a child.

"Oh, Isla," she whispered. "You could have just let it go. You could have pretended you didn't see anything. Then you would have still been alive."

My vision was fading. The room was getting darker. My hand moved weakly and slowly to my stomach. The baby. Our baby.

"Come on, Declan," Sienna said, standing up. She grabbed his arm. "Let's go. She's already gone."

"But.." Declan stared at me, frozen.

"It was an accident," Sienna said firmly, dragging him toward the door. "She fell. That's all. We'll find a way to cover it up. She's mute after all."

I watched them leave through blurring vision. The door closed, and I was alone now.

The cold was spreading through me now, starting in my fingers and toes and crawling inward toward my heart.

I'm sorry, I thought, my hand still resting on my stomach. I'm so sorry, little one.

The darkness swallowed me whole.