While I Bury Mom, He’s Livestreaming with His Mistress

Steven saw me glaring at Nellie and yanked me up off the floor.

“Nellie’s milk came in. She’s gone through a pile of dirty clothes. You’re going to wash them. By hand. Then you can leave.”

I jerked my arm free. “Why would I do that?”

He replied, “Because you just bullied her. You owe her an apology.”

I forced myself upright despite the searing pain in my foot. “Keep dreaming.”

His eyes iced over. Without another word, he shoved me into the bathroom.

Bang!

The door slammed behind me—and locked.

“Steven! Are you kidding me?! This is illegal—you're actually locking me in!” I twisted the handle, yanking it hard. “Let me out! Open the door!”

I slammed my palms against the wood. Silence outside. My hand stung from the impact. My foot throbbed with pain.

The room reeked—sour breast milk, dirty laundry and vomit. It was suffocating. I eventually slid to the floor, knees giving out, completely drained.

Then came Nellie’s voice—soft, sugary and fake—muffled through the door.

“Mr. Grant… are you sure this is okay? What if Lucia gets mad at you for this?”

Steven let out a cold laugh. “So what if she does? I’ll sweet-talk her later.”

“Honestly? This is her own fault. If she doesn’t drop that spoiled princess attitude, she won’t last a day married into the Grants.”

“Our family has served in the military for generations. If I weren’t the only heir to the Grant Enterprises, my mother never would’ve let me marry some pampered rich girl with no skills but spending money.”

Nellie’s voice was dripping with fake concern. “Mr. Grant… if you talk about Lucia like that, aren’t you afraid she’ll break off the engagement?”

A pause. Then Steven’s voice came slightly arrogant, “She won’t. She’s got no inheritance, no power, no better options. The Grants are the best she can do.”

He added, “Besides… she loves me like crazy. I bet if I told her to die for me, she’d actually do it.”

I clutched my chest tightly. Never had I imagine Steven would blurt out such words.

The Harts have been in business for generations—which means we’ve always had a target on our backs.

Six years ago, Mom and I were traveling abroad when we were ambushed. A group of armed men grabbed her, pressed a gun to her temple.

I screamed myself hoarse, thinking I was about to watch my mother die.

Then, a sharp crack cut through the air. One clean shot. The man dropped dead on the spot.

That’s when I saw him—Steven—gun still warm in his hand, uniform crisp, broad-shouldered and all sharp lines, moving with lethal precision. He didn’t just save us. He stole my heart that day.

Later, in the back of a military SUV, I saw his face clearly—angular jaw, high-bridged nose, impossibly handsome. I fell in love at first sight.

I chased him for a year before he finally gave in and agreed to date me.

We were together for five years. I hung on his every word. But all of my sincerity was met with betrayal.

It’s almost laughable.

The bathroom door creaked open.

Steven stepped in, saw me crouched on the floor—pale, trembling. His face twisted in annoyance. “It’s just laundry, Lucia. Stop acting pathetic. Who are you trying to guilt-trip?”

The sour burn of bile rose in my throat. I forced it down, swallowing the nausea. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

I started searching the floor—looking for the one thing that still mattered. My mother's pocket watch. It was torn to pieces. I picked them up, one by one.

Behind me, Steven’s voice cut through the silence. “When Nel finishes her recovery, we’re getting married. She’ll move in with us.”

Nellie turned to me, casting me her grateful look. “Lucia, thank you for accepting me and the baby. I’ll never forget your kindness—”

I cut her off, not even sparing her a glance. I turned to Steven, voice cold.

“No. We’re not living together. I’m taking my mother’s things. Text me the door code—I’ll have movers pick up the rest.”