After My Husband Made Me Infertile, I Faked My Death

The phone call came at 3:17 AM.

I fumbled for my cell in the darkness, Everett's name flashing across the screen. My heart leapt—he wasn't supposed to call until his business trip ended tomorrow.

"Mrs. Foster?" A stranger's voice, rough and unfamiliar. "Your husband sends his regards."

My fingers tightened around the phone. "Who is this? Where's Everett?"

"That's not important." The voice crackled with static. "What matters is that Mr. Foster is enjoying our hospitality. For now."

The world tilted sideways. I gripped the edge of the nightstand to steady myself. "If you've touched him—"

"Two million dollars by noon today." The man's tone turned cold. "Or we start sending pieces back to you. Small ones."

The line went dead.

I don't remember getting dressed or calling Everett's security team. Everything blurred until I found myself in front of Valentino Fisher's corporate headquarters, the gleaming tower that rivaled my husband's own empire.

Valentino. Everett's most ruthless competitor. The man who'd once looked at me with something unreadable in his dark eyes at a charity gala.

"You're sure about this?" Marcus, Everett's head of security, asked as we stepped into the marble lobby. "Fisher would sooner see Everett dead than help him."

"He won't." My voice sounded strange to my own ears. "He's not like that."

The elevator ascended silently to the penthouse floor. When the doors opened, Valentino stood waiting, his tall frame silhouetted against floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased Manhattan's glittering skyline.

"Mrs. Foster." His voice was smooth as silk, but his eyes remained cold. "This is... unexpected."

I stepped forward, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "My husband has been kidnapped."

"I know." He gestured toward his office. "The underground syndicate has been making waves. They're ambitious but sloppy."

In his office, I explained everything—the call, the demand, Everett's security team's failure to locate him. With each word, my composure cracked further.

"I can help you." Valentino's fingers steepled beneath his chin. "My security forces can extract him within hours."

Relief flooded through me. "Thank you. I'll make sure Everett knows—"

"Mrs. Foster." His voice cut through mine like a blade. "Before I agree to this, you should understand something."

Something in his tone made me pause.

"Saving your husband will be the greatest regret of your life."

A chill ran down my spine. "What does that mean?"

His expression remained unreadable. "Exactly what I said."

Despite the warning, I nodded. "Do it. Please."

---

The rescue happened in a blur of tactical precision. Valentino's security team infiltrated a warehouse in Queens at dawn, moving with military efficiency.

I waited in Valentino's car, watching through tinted windows as they carried Everett out. His shirt was torn, a bruise darkening his jaw, but he was alive.

"Everett!" I rushed toward him, tears blurring my vision.

His arms wrapped around me, trembling slightly. For a moment, he seemed vulnerable—human in a way I'd rarely seen.

"Violet." His voice was rough. "How did you find me?"

"Valentino helped. His security team—"

Something shifted in his expression. A shadow fell across his features as he glanced toward Valentino, who stood watching us from a distance.

"Of course he did." Everett's voice hardened. "My father will hear about this."

As if summoned by his name, Augustus Foster's limousine pulled up beside us. Everett's father emerged, his imposing figure radiating cold fury.

"A Foster doesn't get rescued by a Fisher." Augustus's voice sliced through the morning air. "You look pathetic, Everett. Weak."

I felt Everett tense beside me. When I looked up at him, something had changed in his eyes—a darkness I couldn't name.

---

Three weeks later, the pregnancy test showed positive.

I stared at the two pink lines, joy bubbling up inside me. A baby. Our baby.

"Everett!" I called out, running downstairs to find him in his study.

He looked up from his laptop, his expression carefully neutral. "What is it?"

"I'm pregnant!" I held out the test, my heart racing with excitement.

For a moment—just a moment—something like panic flashed across his face. Then his mask slipped back into place.

"That's... wonderful." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "We should celebrate."

But instead of celebration, Everett grew distant. He began working later, coming home smelling of unfamiliar perfume. When I questioned him, he claimed corporate consultations.

One evening, I overheard him on the phone in his study.

"It's done," he whispered. "Brooke, I need to see you tonight."

My hand froze on the doorknob. Brooke Hawkins—my rival since college, the woman who'd always wanted Everett for herself.

"What about Violet?" Brooke's voice drifted through the cracked door. "She suspects something."

"She won't find out." Everett's voice hardened. "This is too important."

As I backed away from the door, my hand instinctively moved to my stomach. Something was wrong—deeply, terribly wrong.

And I was completely alone.