“Once you’re gone?” His tone was calm, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. “Who were you talking to, Isla?”

I turned my head slowly. Mateo was slouched against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, one brow slightly lifted as if he already suspected more than he let on.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked again.

My throat tightened as I powered off my phone and slid it beneath the blanket, as though it hadn’t just changed the course of my life. “Nothing,” I answered evenly.

“Nothing?” He scoffed and took a few steps closer. “You clearly said, ‘Once I’m gone.’ Are you planning to leave me now?”

I forced myself to meet his eyes. “No. I was talking about leaving the hospital. When they finally discharge me.”

He studied my face, suspicion sharpening his gaze. “You’re sure?” Then he extended his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“For what?”

“Just hand it over.”

I didn’t fight him. I placed the phone in his palm and watched as he tapped the screen. “Your password?”

I paused for half a second too long. “My birthday.”

He typed quickly. Then his expression shifted. “It’s wrong. January twenty-six, right?”

A dry laugh escaped me. “That’s not my birthday.”

His head jerked up. “What?”

“That’s Layla’s.”

The color drained from his face as realization struck. “I—I just got confused.”

“Sure,” I muttered under my breath.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You’ve been acting strange lately. Isla… are you seeing someone else?”

For a moment, I could only stare at him in disbelief. Then a laugh burst from my chest—sharp, bitter, cutting through the sterile quiet of the room. “Cheating? That’s what you think I’m doing?”

He shrugged, falsely casual. “Well, someone already settled your hospital bills. And it wasn’t me. They told me it was some man.”

I looked at him, stunned. The accusation was laughable. After everything he’d been hiding. After all his lies. The sneaking glances, the secret meetings, the whispered devotion meant for another woman. I had seen it all. Felt it. Denied it. And now he dared to turn it on me.

But I didn’t defend myself. I was too tired for that.

“Then maybe you should ask yourself why you didn’t pay them,” I said quietly. “Maybe it was a stranger. Or maybe…” I locked eyes with him. “Maybe you’re the one who’s been unfaithful.”

His jaw tensed. But before he could respond, his phone lit up.

Layla’s name flashed across the screen.

He glanced at it, then at me. “It’s work.”

“I thought you were taking me home.”

He nodded distractedly. “Something urgent came up. My driver’s downstairs. Get in the car. I’ll meet you later.”

And just like that, he walked out.

No apology. No explanation. Not even a second glance.

I stood there staring at the empty doorway long after his footsteps disappeared. Whatever thread had still bound us together finally snapped.

I left the room alone, the chill of the hospital corridor biting into my skin. But just as I neared the exit, I heard it—laughter drifting through the hall.

I stopped.

Turned.

And saw them.

Mateo and Layla.

She was pressed against his side, smiling brightly, one hand resting on the curve of her stomach. His arm circled her instinctively, his other hand covering hers as he lowered his head to kiss her forehead. She laughed softly at something he whispered.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t cry.

I stood there hollow, one hand pressed to my chest where my heart should have been.

Then Layla lifted her head and met my eyes.

Her lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile—cruel, victorious. Then she rose onto her toes and kissed Mateo. Not hidden. Not hesitant. She kissed him boldly, proudly, making sure I saw every second of it.

Mateo didn’t pull back.

He didn’t even look around.

I turned and walked out of the hospital.

The driver opened the car door for me, but I said nothing for the entire ride. The city outside blurred into streaks of color. Layla’s laughter echoed in my head—the same laugh I once shared secrets with, the one that used to feel safe.

When we reached the house, I went straight to the bedroom.

To the closet.

To every drawer. Every shelf. Every box that still held pieces of him—of us.

The handbags he bought for our anniversaries. The dresses he chose for our vacations. The handwritten notes he once left beside my pillow.

One by one, I carried them to the fireplace.

My hands moved without hesitation, feeding five years of memories into the flames. Silk curled and blackened. Ink faded to ash. Promises turned to smoke.

Just when I thought nothing remained that could still wound me—

My phone vibrated.

I picked it up.

Layla.

With shaking fingers, I opened the message.

It was a photo.

Her lips on Mateo’s. Again. This time on our balcony—the same place where he once held me at night while we talked about having a family.

Below the image was a message:

Oops. Sorry. But he’s mine now. You took him from me once, Isla. I’m just reclaiming what belongs to me. You won’t mind… right? But you should probably leave soon.

My vision swam. Something inside me finally ignited.

I typed back through clenched teeth:

Don’t worry. I’ll disappear soon. And when I do, every single one of you will regret ever crossing my path.

I hit send.

Just a few more days.

Then I’ll be gone.

Mateo never came home that night. He didn’t check on me. Didn’t leave a message. Didn’t even pretend to care whether I was alive or barely holding myself together.

But Layla did.

She sent photos.

Pictures of her wrapped in Mateo’s arms—at upscale restaurants, inside his office, tangled together in bed. Some of the shots were shaky, taken in a hurry. Others were clearly staged, her lips curved in a smug smile, her hand always resting possessively on his chest. It was deliberate. She wasn’t satisfied with taking him from me—she wanted me to witness every second of it.

Then the messages followed.

“He’s always loved me. You were just a placeholder.”

“The unwanted extra who somehow became the wife. Funny, isn’t it?”

A bitter laugh slipped from my throat. I remembered it all too clearly. How she used to cling to him at parties. How I walked a step behind them like I didn’t exist. Always present. Never chosen.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I had always been the outsider. Maybe I really was the third wheel from the very beginning. Maybe this was karma for stepping in on the night she ran away from her own wedding.

Still, I didn’t shed a single tear.

Instead, I saved every photo. Every message. Every threat disguised as mockery. Then I forwarded the entire folder to my secretary, Cara, with only one instruction:

“Release all of this after I leave. Ruin him completely. Strip his name from my family’s company. Let them collapse the way they once did.”

Her reply came almost instantly.

“Understood, ma’am. But who will be taking over everything?”

I stared at the screen for several seconds before typing:

“My future husband.”

After that, I shut my phone off.

But it stayed quiet for less than two minutes before it vibrated again.

Mateo: There’s a small celebration at the house today. I won’t be able to pick you up. Come by on your own and bring something for my mother.

No apology.

No concern.

Not even a simple, “Are you feeling better?”

Just a command—cold and mechanical—as though I were a subordinate instead of the woman he married.

At first, I ignored it. My finger hovered over the delete button. Then I stopped.

This would be the last time.

So I dressed carefully—a soft beige dress, understated but graceful. I pulled my hair back neatly, slipped into heels, and wrapped a box of imported tea his mother favoured.

The final gift I would ever bring into that house.

Laughter drifted through the hallway before I even reached the living room. The moment I stepped inside, I almost turned back.

Layla was already there.

She sat comfortably beside Mateo’s mother, laughing sweetly, her fingers entwined with the older woman’s like a devoted daughter-in-law. Her free hand rested casually against the gentle swell of her stomach.

She noticed me first. Her lips slowly curved upward.

“Oh. Look who finally showed up,” she said softly. “The wife.”

Mateo’s mother, Isabel, barely glanced my way.

“Yes,” she muttered. “The ill-fated wife.”

My chest tightened.

“I still can’t get over her parents’ accident,” she continued, turning to Layla with a sigh steeped in false sympathy. “Such tragic deaths. But the fortune teller did warn us. That girl carries disaster wherever she goes. She was always meant to bring ruin to this family. It’s only right that she leaves.”

My feet felt rooted to the floor.

Just a few years ago, I had been the treasure of this household—the beloved daughter-in-law everyone praised. Isabel used to pull me into every luncheon, gripping my arm proudly as if I were a prize. She once told everyone I was like her own flesh and blood.

They all used to say, “The Madrigals wouldn’t have survived without Isla.”

And now?

Now that my parents were gone.

Now that the companies were merged.

Now that every legal document was signed and power was ready to change hands—

They didn’t need me anymore.

So this had always been the plan.

“She’s only still here because the divorce isn’t finalized,” Isabel added lightly. “But don’t worry, dear. That won’t last long. Especially now that the heir is on the way.” She stroked Layla’s stomach with a satisfied smile.

My stomach churned, but I lifted my chin.

I stepped forward and placed the tea on the table. “I brought what you asked for.”

Isabel’s gaze drifted to the green diamond necklace resting at my collarbone—my mother’s final gift to me.

Her eyes sparkled with desire.

“That necklace suits you,” she said. “Hand it over.”

I stiffened. “No. It was my mother’s. I already brought you a gift—”

“Exactly,” she interrupted, already reaching for it. “Your mother is gone. It would be meaningful for you to give this to me. What use do you have for sentimental things now?”

“I said no,” I repeated firmly, stepping back. “It’s mine.”

She lunged forward and seized the chain.

“Give it to me!”

“No!” I cried, gripping it tightly. “Let go! That’s the only thing I have left of my parents!”

She yanked harder.

“I said no!”

All at once, Isabel clutched her chest and stumbled backward.

Her face twisted as she gasped for air, one hand gripping the armrest while the other still tugged weakly at my necklace.

“Ah—!”

She crashed to the floor.

Her fingers trembled as she pointed at me, choking out, “That cursed woman… she really is bad luck! I only asked for her necklace and look what she’s done to me! Ungrateful… heartless—”

“Call for an ambulance!” someone shouted.

The entire room erupted in panic—

And then the front door slammed open.

Mateo rushed inside.

“What happened?!”

Layla immediately ran to him, clinging to his arm as she burst into tears.

“It’s your mother—she collapsed! She was completely fine until she argued with Isla!”

Isabel wheezed weakly, “She’s cursed… Mateo, I warned you. She only brings disaster. Look what she’s done to me now!”

Mateo dropped beside his mother, lifting her head anxiously.

“Mom, don’t talk like that. She’s my wife. What are you saying?!”

“I don’t care,” Isabel hissed, her eyes burning into me. “She’s a curse! She’ll destroy you too—just like her family and her child are already gone!”

My vision blurred.

I turned away. I couldn’t stay in that house another second.

I stormed down the corridor, gripping the strap of my bag, forcing the tears back with every step.

“Isla!” Layla called out behind me.

I didn’t stop.

She ran after me.

And then—

A heavy thud.

A shrill scream.

I turned just in time to see Layla crumpled at the bottom of the staircase, one heel twisted beneath her, both hands clutched desperately to her stomach.

“Ahhh! Mateo!” she shrieked. “She pushed me!”

I couldn’t tell how long I had been trapped in that icy void. My skin felt colorless and stiff, my lips split and dry, my breathing uneven and weak. My hands were curled tightly against my chest, clinging to whatever faint warmth my body could still produce. But right before the cold completely claimed me… the memories surged back.

“Put her in there,” Isabel snarled, every word sharp with cruelty. “If she enjoys stirring chaos in my house, then let the cold teach her a lesson.”

The two maids holding me hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances.

“She’s ill, Señora… this doesn’t feel right—”

“I said put her in!” Isabel barked. “She touched me with those cursed hands and nearly killed me and my grandchild! Layla was hurt too! Can’t you see it? She is the curse hanging over this family. Let the freezing air drain the poison out of her.”

“I didn’t mean to—please,” I begged, clutching my blanket weakly, my throat raw. “Please don’t do this. Call Mateo—he wouldn’t allow this… he wouldn’t…”

But even as I pleaded, the world began to blur.

Because then I heard hurried footsteps charging down the hallway.

Mateo.

I screamed his name with everything left in me.

“Mateo! Please! Mateo, I need you!”

He rushed past the corridor—Layla in his arms, shouting orders, his jacket barely clinging to his shoulders, panic blazing across his face.

“She’s bleeding again. Prepare the car for the hospital. Nothing can happen to this baby!”

He never once looked my way.

I reached out from the floor with shaking fingers.

“Mateo…!”

But his back was already disappearing around the corner.

Already gone.

“Wait… please…” My knees buckled beneath me.

“Do it now,” Isabel said coldly. “Before she causes more trouble.”

I jolted back to awareness when someone suddenly entered.

It was Mateo.

He wrapped a blanket around me hurriedly. “Isla—God, Isla! I didn’t know she truly went through with it. I thought she was bluffing. You know how my mother is when she’s angry—she says horrible things she doesn’t mean.”

My teeth rattled uncontrollably. I couldn’t even form words.

He rubbed warmth back into my arms, frantic with guilt. “I’m sorry… about the necklace too. I understand now—it was your mother’s. The last piece you had of them. I was an idiot. I should’ve stopped her.”

I stayed silent. The slight curl of my lips wasn’t relief—it was bitterness.

“You’ll feel better soon, okay?” he said quickly. “Tomorrow we’ll finalize the merger contract. I really need you present, so you have to recover. Afterward, I’ll buy you dozens of necklaces just like that one.”

He laughed faintly and kissed my forehead, as if survival had earned me a prize.

Ah. Of course.

The merger.

That was why I was rescued.

Because I was still useful.

He lifted me carefully into his arms and started toward the bedroom. “You’re burning up,” he said suddenly, alarm creeping into his voice. “You’ve got a fever. We need to get you to the hospital.”

“No.” My voice rasped weakly, barely sound—but I forced it out.

He stopped. “No?”

I pressed against his chest. “I want a divorce.”

He went completely still. “What?” His voice came out fragile, disbelieving.

“I want to end this, Mateo. I’m done.”

“No, wait—Isla. You’re sick. You’re emotional. I apologized, didn’t I? Please, don’t do this.” His eyes widened in panic. “I should’ve stopped my mother. I shouldn’t have believed Layla. But I was scared for the baby, okay? She said she was bleeding, and I panicked. I didn’t realize—didn’t know it was all an accident.”

A dry, painful laugh escaped me, followed by a cough.

“Of course. The baby.”

His gaze flickered, as if he could hear every accusation in my silence.

“It’s not mine.”

“Isn’t it?”

He swallowed. “No. Of course not. I just… she had no one. I felt sorry for her.”

Pity.

The same pity that let him erase me piece by piece.

Mateo stepped closer, brushing my hair back gently. “If you want me to cut her off, I will. I’ll focus only on us. No divorce. Please, let me take care of you now, okay?”

He lifted me again carefully, murmuring apologies under his breath.

Then the door creaked open.

Layla stood there.

Her eyes were red. Her voice trembled.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to be a burden,” she whispered. “Maybe I should leave again. Maybe that’s what you want—to get rid of me, right?”

Mateo turned toward her. “Layla—”

“But I’m bleeding again,” she said quietly.

Everything froze.

She clutched her stomach. “Maybe this baby deserves it… maybe I do too.”

Then she turned and ran down the hallway, sobbing.

“No! Layla!” Mateo shouted in panic. He set me down so abruptly my knees nearly gave out.

“Mateo,” I croaked. “You promised—”

But he was already rushing after her.

“I’m sorry!” he yelled back. “I’ll send someone to help you—Layla needs me right now!”

“What about me?!” I cried out.

He glanced back once, hesitation flickering across his face.

“You’re strong, Isla. You always have been. The butler will take care of you.”

Then he was gone.

The door slammed shut.

I waited.

Minutes passed.

Then nearly an hour.

No one came.

The cold from the freezer still lived inside my bones. My head spun, skin burning, vision trembling. I dragged myself upright using the wall for support, every step feeling like iron shackles dragging across my soul.

Somehow, I reached the car.

Somehow, I drove.

My hands shook on the steering wheel, sweat soaked through my clothes, my vision fading in and out—but I made it to the nearest hospital.

When I finally woke again, my phone rang.

Luigi’s voice came through the line, tight with urgency.

“I heard what happened,” he said. “I’m coming for you. Right now.”