Reclaiming the Revengeful Wife

The silver-ribboned box felt impossibly light in my hand as I stepped out of the car. Tonight was meant to be special - our first wedding anniversary. I'd planned everything: surprising Lorde at his company's year-end party, sharing a toast under the shimmering lights, and celebrating the future we'd built together.

But as I entered the brightly lit resort, a cold unease settled in my stomach. Something felt wrong. The hall buzzed with laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses, but my heart pounded in my chest as I searched for him. He wasn't in the main hall, not in any of the private lounges. With every step, the box grew heavier, the weight mirroring the anxiety building inside me.

Then, I heard it - his deep, unmistakable laugh. A wave of relief washed over me, until a second voice joined his, a light, teasing voice that sent a shiver down my spine. Venus.

My steps faltered. Venus was my best friend, or had been. Lately, her casual touches on Lorde's arm, her overly bright smiles, had set me on edge. But tonight, my suspicion sharpened into something darker, an icy blade piercing my heart.

Following their voices, my pulse roared in my ears. Peeking through a partially open door, I saw them: Lorde, glass in hand, cheeks flushed from drinking, and Venus, seated too close, her hand resting possessively on his arm.

"Truth or dare," someone called out, their voice slurred with alcohol.

Venus's smile turned wicked as she looked at Lorde. "Truth or dare?"

He grinned, swaying slightly. "Dare."

Her voice rang out, deliberate and loud. "I dare you to sleep with me."

Laughter erupted, but I froze, my chest constricting as if an invisible hand were squeezing the air from my lungs.

"No way!" someone exclaimed.

"Oh, he'll do it," Venus said confidently, her eyes fixed on Lorde, a predator sizing up its prey.

Lorde raised his glass, chuckling. "Challenge accepted!"

The box slipped from my hand, the sound of it hitting the floor drowned out by the thundering in my ears. I stood paralyzed, watching as Lorde, my husband, picked her up in his arms - bridal-style - and carried her towards one of the private rooms.

The door clicked shut, and my world cracked wide open. I didn't know how long I stood there, but eventually, I moved, drawn to the bar, its dim lighting offering no comfort. I sipped champagne, trying to numb the storm raging inside me, but the betrayal burned brighter with every swallow.

The hours blurred into a haze of pain. When I finally dared to approach the private room, the door creaked open just as I reached it. Venus emerged, wrapped in nothing but a towel, her smirk a dagger aimed at my heart.

"Looks like you stayed for the show," she said mockingly.

The slap came before I realized my hand had moved. Her head snapped to the side, but when she turned back, she was smiling.

"Feeling feisty, huh?" she said, her tone amused. She slapped me back, the sting sharp but nowhere near as painful as her next words.

"You should thank me, Jillian. At least now you know how pathetic you look clinging to him."

"How could you do this?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

Yes, she was my childhood bestfriend. We grew together as if were sisters but everything changed when we meet Lorde Emillion.

She shrugged, her gaze cold. "Please. You've always known I wanted him. You were just too naive to admit it."

I knew about. ALWAYS. But who would've thought that Lorde will choose me over her? It's not my fault!

My fists clenched. "Y-You're disgusting."

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Let's make this interesting. Whoever gets pregnant first wins. Loser walks away."

I stared at her, stunned. "So... fucking insane."

Her laugh was cruel. "We'll see who's insane when the winner takes all."

"Jillian..."

I turned sharply, finding Lorde standing behind us. His expression - confused, guilty - made my stomach churn.

"Jillian, I—"

I didn't let him finish. My legs carried me past him, toward the parking lot, tears threatening to spill. He caught up, grabbing my arm.

"Let me explain!"

I yanked free, my voice cracking. "E-Explain what? That you accepted her dare? That you carried her off like she was your bride? What part of that needs explaining?"

His hand raked through his hair, his desperation clear. "I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing!"

"Drunk?" I laughed bitterly. "That's your excuse? A mistake doesn't look like that."

"Please," he begged, reaching for my hand.

I slapped him, the sound echoing in the empty lot. "There's nothing left to say."

I got into my car and drove away, his figure shrinking in the rearview mirror. The tears came then, hot and unrelenting, as my world fell apart.

When I reached home, the small silver box still sat in the passenger seat. I picked it up, my hands trembling as I carried it inside. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I opened it, revealing the pregnancy test I had kept hidden for weeks.

Positive.

This night was supposed to be a celebration - a moment to tell him he'd be a father. But how could I tell him now? He didn't deserve to know.

I paced the room, the storm inside me too much to contain. Then, a sharp cramp pierced my abdomen. I froze, clutching my stomach as panic set in.

Blood.

The sight of it spreading across my skirt sent shockwaves through me. I tried to move, to call for help, but my legs gave out, and darkness swallowed me whole.

The sterile white ceiling of the hospital greeted me when I woke. My body felt heavy, my mind foggy.

"Jillian, you're awake!" Glaiza, my assistant, sat at my bedside, her face streaked with tears.

"What happened?" I croaked.

Before she could answer, the doctor entered. His calm yet grave expression filled me with dread.

"Mrs. Javier," he began gently, "I'm sorry. You've had a miscarriage."

The words hit like a physical blow. My hands instinctively moved to my stomach, but the reality was undeniable. My baby was gone.

Tears streamed down my face as guilt consumed me. This was my fault. If I hadn't let my anger and heartbreak overwhelm me, maybe...

But the ache in my chest left no room for maybes.

Days passed in a haze of grief. I avoided Lorde, retreating to my room whenever he was near. My anger simmered, my heartbreak unyielding.

Then, on what should have been an ordinary morning, Venus barged into my room, her smug smile striking a nerve.

"Happy birthday, Jillian," she said, her voice laced with mockery.

"What do you want, Venus?" I snapped.

She held out a small black box. "Open it."

My stomach churned as I lifted the lid, revealing a pregnancy test. Two lines.

"It's mine," Venus said casually, her smile wicked. "Guess who the father is?"

I shook my head, my voice trembling. "Fuck... you're lying."

"Am I?" She crossed her arms. "Don't worry, Jillian. I'll take good care of what's mine."

Her words were knives. I stumbled, clutching the edge of the bed to steady myself.

Then her phone rang. She answered, her smirk slipping as her expression turned grave.

"W-What's wrong?" I asked.

Her voice trembled. "Lorde's in the hospital. He was shot this morning."

Her words shattered what little remained of my composure.

"No..." My knees gave way, and I collapsed to the floor, the weight of it all finally too much to bear.

B-BUT WHY? H-HE CANNOT DIE!