Anastasia Montreal had it all. As the youngest daughter of two influential families, she lived a life of luxury and privilege. But one fateful night changed everything, leaving her known as the fallen pianist prodigy. Despite the setback, she found hope in her life after marrying the man of her dreams—the renowned billionaire Regan Del Valle. The man she thought would love and support her unconditionally. She was a devoted and faithful wife, but few knew she was an unwanted wife. … She loved him. He loved another. She gave everything. He gave nothing. She begged to stay. He begged to be free. She wanted him. He never wanted her.
View MoreThe large garden loomed ahead, its vibrant flowers and sprawling yard basking under the afternoon sun—so bright, so full of life. The contrast made my emptiness feel all the more suffocating.Then, suddenly—SLAP!The force of it sent me crashing to the ground. A sharp sting spread across my cheek, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth where my teeth cut into my lip. I gasped, my mind spinning, the world tilting as I stared at the dirt beneath me, too stunned to move.“Marianne, what the hell?!” Sheila shrieked.And then, in the chaos of it all, her voice sliced through the air like a blade."She’s pregnant!" Sheila’s voice cracked as if the weight of it had finally been too much to bear.The world went still. The air shifted, suffocating and thick with an emotion too heavy to name. Marianne stood frozen, her breath catching in her throat. Her anger twisted into something else—shock, disbelief, devastation. Her lips parted, but no words came out.I could barely move. My body was
Sheila froze. I finally looked at her, and there was nothing in my gaze. No fight. No anger. No will left to argue. Just sheer, crushing exhaustion.“I’m tired,” I murmured. “I feel sick. I don’t want to do this right now.”Sheila opened her mouth to protest, but then she really looked at me. I knew what she saw. I was pale. My lips were dry, almost cracked. The dark circles beneath my eyes were so deep they looked bruised. My hands, resting limply on my lap, trembled slightly.I wasn’t just exhausted.I was broken.Sheila swallowed hard, her frustration shifting into something else—something much more painful.For the first time, she didn’t argue. I just turned my head, looking back out at the horizon, my eyes unfocused, lost in the vast emptiness stretching before me.Sheila was quiet for a moment. I thought she had given up, that she would just walk away like everyone else eventually did.But then, suddenly, she broke.A soft sob escaped her lips, barely audible at first, before it
A Week LaterThe house was quiet. Too quiet.I sat motionless on the balcony of my bedroom, staring out at the vast expanse of green surrounding the mansion. It was a beautiful home—secluded, peaceful, far from the suffocating noise of the city. The kind of place people would call an escape. But for me, it was just another prison.Beside me, the plate of untouched food sat, the scent alone making my stomach twist. Nausea curled in my throat, threatening to rise. It had been this way for days. Every time I tried to eat, I ended up hunched over a toilet, dry heaving until there was nothing left. The exhaustion had settled deep into my bones, dragging me down, and making my body feel unbearably heavy.Susan and the other maids were here. I hadn’t asked them to resign; after Susan had called to tell me they resigned, I told them to stay. I didn’t know why. Maybe I didn’t want to be alone. Maybe I just didn’t care.They moved around the house, doing what they could, but none of it reached
My head shook automatically, small, frantic motions, my chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. "I—I don’t—what are you—?"Caroline pressed forward, her voice calm but firm. "Regan and Zarina—this is what’s best, Anastasia. You need to understand. The child, their child, deserves—"The words sliced through me like a jagged blade, making me flinch as if she had physically struck me. My ears started ringing, drowning out whatever else she was saying.Zarina’s child.Regan’s child.The bile rose so fast in my throat that I thought I would throw up again. My vision blurred, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I forced myself to focus on Caroline’s face. She was still talking—explaining, justifying, yapping—but the words jumbled together into meaningless noise. I barely recognized my own voice when I finally spoke. It was hoarse, breathless."Is this…" I swallowed hard, forcing the words out, "…because Zarina is pregnant?"Caroline visibly tensed. For the first time, she falter
After Sheila left, silence flooded back into the room, heavy and oppressive. I stared blankly at the untouched tray of food she had left behind. Forcing myself, I took a small spoonful, but the moment it touched my tongue, nausea surged violently. My stomach twisted painfully, and I barely made it to the small bathroom before I doubled over the sink, retching.Tears pricked at my eyes as I wiped my mouth with shaking hands. My body felt drained like all the energy had been sucked out of me. I pressed my forehead against the cool surface of the mirror, staring at the hollow-eyed reflection that stared back at me. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the heartbreak, the loneliness—wrapped around me like an unshakable fog.I forced myself back to bed, curling into myself, arms wrapped protectively over my belly. I wouldn’t cry. Not again. I was too exhausted to cry.Just as exhaustion began pulling me under, the door burst open again, revealing my mother-in-law, and startling me awake.
When I opened my eyes, the room was bathed in pale, cold sunlight filtering through the half-closed blinds. Everything felt disorienting, surreal, and heavy—as if the very air around me pressed down on my chest. For a few seconds, I stared blankly at the white ceiling, the only sound the steady beeping of machines at my side.And then it hit me—the baby.Panic surged through me like wildfire. My hands flew to my stomach, pressing desperately against the blanket. Fear rose so fast it choked me, and I gasped, tears instantly blurring my vision.“No… please, no,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “My baby…”I glanced around frantically, my heart racing. The room was empty. Sheila wasn’t here. No nurse. No doctor. No one to tell me anything. The silence suddenly felt deafening. I couldn't wait another second. I had to know.I pushed myself up, ignoring the sharp ache that jolted through my body. Every movement felt like agony, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was my child. I swung
Susan and the maids rushed toward me as I descended the stairs, their worried faces blurring as my vision swam. My legs felt like they weren’t my own, each step unsteady. The world tilted, and for a terrifying second, I thought I would collapse right there on the marble steps.“Miss Anastasia!” Susan gasped, reaching out just in time to steady me. The other maids circled around, their hands hovering anxiously, unsure if they should hold me up or let me go.I swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly to chase away the dizziness. My chest was tight, each breath a struggle against the sobs clawing their way up.“I’m fine,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, but my body betrayed me as I wobbled again.Susan’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re not fine, Miss. Please, let’s get you some water, sit down for a moment—”But I shook my head, my heart hammering in my chest. No. I needed to leave. I needed to get away from this place, from him. The moment I stepped outside, the cool air hit my
I felt sick. I felt so utterly sick."What if I was pregnant too?" the words came out my mouth before I realized it, my voice so soft I almost couldn’t hear myself.Regan’s head snapped toward me. And for the first time, he hesitated. For a single, gut-wrenching moment, something flickered across his face—something almost human—but it was gone as fast as it came.Then, with the same cold finality, the same knife to my throat, he answered:"Then I would ask you to get rid of it."Silence.I stopped existing. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just stopped.The world tilted. My body felt weightless, my ears ringing so loudly I couldn’t even hear my own breathing. I stared at him—at the man I had loved more than anything—standing there, looking at me as if I were nothing.I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to rip him apart, to throw something, to scream why why why until my throat bled. But I couldn’t do any of it. Because what was the point? He had already ma
The words escaped me in gasps, strangled and desperate. I needed him to stop hurting me. To stop choosing her. To stop breaking me every time he looked at me like I didn’t matter.I gripped him harder, my fingers trembling against his chest. “Why, Regan?” I choked out, “Why did you let it get this far? Why didn’t you—” I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t get the words out. The truth was suffocating me.I lifted my head, looking up at him through the tears streaming down my face. My heart was pounding in my chest, so loud I thought it would burst. My hands shook as I cupped his face, but he didn’t meet my gaze. His eyes were focused somewhere past me, distant. Empty. I didn’t know this man anymore. I didn’t know the man I had loved, the man I had trusted with everything.“I don’t want to hurt anymore, Regan. Please… just make it stop. Please.” My breath hitched, and I clutched him tighter, pressing my forehead against his chest, wishing that I could somehow make it all go away. “I loved you.
A mountain of presents, wrapped in shiny paper and tied with extravagant bows, threatened to topple over on the far side of the room. On the mahogany table, a sea of cards gleamed under the soft light. I picked one up, its edges embossed with a delicate silver pattern. The familiar, pointed handwriting of Vivienne, one of Regan's business associates' wives made me almost sigh in dismay."Dearest Anastasia," the card gushed, the words shimmering with fake sincerity. "Happy Birthday! Wishing you all the joy and fortune you deserve. Perhaps we can schedule that charity luncheon we discussed? Regan mentioned such a wonderful idea..." The card fluttered from my grasp, landing face down on the floor. Charity. Luncheon. Always something they wanted. “As expected,” I muttered.The silence swallows the room, the only sound is the relentless ticking of the clock. My fingertips painted a crimson danced a nervous rhythm around the stem of my wine glass. The heavy damask drapes, a deep sha...
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