The Wife He Never Wanted Now Bound for Revenge

“Thanks, but I don’t want it. Give it back to him.”

Valeria just tilted her head, eyes sweeping over my room like it belonged to her. “You two haven’t picked any names for the baby yet, have you?” she asked, voice feigned with curiosity. “Funny thing… Sebastian and I once brainstormed names for our future children. Dom for a boy, Loralie for a girl. Cute, don’t you think?”

My hands started trembling.

Those were the exact names Sebastian had whispered to me when we discussed our baby. The same ones. He’d smiled then, like it was a private little secret, something special.

And now I realized—it had never been ours at all. Not even the baby. Everything had belonged to her first.

My chest ached so sharply I could barely breathe.

Then suddenly, the bowl slipped from her hands. “Oh no!” she shrieked in a theatrical panic as hot liquid splashed across my arm, chest, and down toward my stomach. Pain shot through me in a searing wave.

“Ahhh!”

“Careful!” she cried, feigning concern, reaching for me with perfect, calculated worry. “I didn’t mean it! I’m so clumsy… are you okay?”

My arm was already red, blisters rising. I could barely hear her through the pain, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I stumbled toward the stairs, desperate to reach the bathroom, ointment, anything to stop the burn.

But before I even made it to the first step, something hit me hard from behind.

I didn’t get a proper scream out—just one sharp, choking sound before my body hurtled forward.

Everything blurred.

Pain exploded. I slammed down the steps, hitting each one before landing flat on the cold floor.

For a moment, I couldn’t move. All I saw was red spreading across the carpet. It took a few seconds to register—it was my blood.

Then Valeria’s scream echoed through the house. “Maris!”

Her footsteps were quick, precise. She dropped down the stairs beside me, perfectly part of the staged disaster.

From the kitchen, I heard Sebastian shouting, the fridge door slamming. He came running, froze when he saw us.

“Lory!” he yelled, rushing to her side. Not me. Her.

He checked her ankle, hands trembling. “Where does it hurt? Show me! Tell me!”

“I’m… fine,” she murmured weakly, acting fragile. “Please… check on Maris.”

He looked at me, really looked, only now realizing someone else was on the floor.

Then Valeria went completely limp in his arms.

“Lory!” he shouted, panic sharp in his voice. Real panic.

He scooped her up like she was fragile glass and ran out the door, calling for the driver. Not once did he glance at me, not once notice the blood still pooling beneath me.

I lay there, world spinning, and the last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was the fridge door, still open, a small white box inside. A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

---

When I came to, the world was too bright, too sterile. White walls, the steady hum of machines.

A doctor stood over me, clipboard in hand, taking notes.

Sebastian was there too, standing by the bed. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke first. “How’s the baby?”

The doctor blinked at him, confused. “The baby?” His gaze flicked between us. “Mr. Alvarado… the pregnancy had already—”

“Water… water,” I croaked, my throat dry, chest tight, as though a stone had been dropped inside me.

“Maris!” Sebastian was instantly at my side. “Baby, you’re awake? Does it hurt anywhere? Tell me, please.”

I tried to speak, but no sound came. I shook my head slowly.

The doctor stiffened, mouth opening as if to say something, then thinking better of it. I knew why.

Sebastian turned, holding my hand tightly. “Doctor, what were you saying earlier? I didn’t hear you.”

The doctor hesitated, lips parting, but I shook my head slightly. Please… not now.

He pressed his lips together, exhaled softly, and said, “The patient needs rest. No stress for now.” Then he left, leaving us alone.

Silence settled, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioner.

Sebastian looked at me, eyes soft, almost breaking. He reached for my cheek. I turned away.

He froze, then softened his tone, gentle now. “Hey… I know you’re angry. I get it. I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve noticed you fell.” He drew a deep, shaky breath. “But thank God… you and the baby are safe. If anything had happened, I’d never forgive myself.”

I said nothing.

He continued, voice trembling just enough to be believable. “Please… don’t stay mad at me. I’ll do better. I promise. You mean everything to me.”

His words sounded sincere. His eyes full of guilt, his hands shaking as if he were in pain too. Anyone else might’ve believed him.

But I didn’t.