Mateo didn’t come home. He didn’t call. Didn’t text. Didn’t check if I was breathing or broken. But Layla did. She sent pictures.
Photos of her in Mateo’s arms. At restaurants. In his office. In bed. Some were blurry, like she took them in a rush. Others were posed, her lips curled into a smirk, her hand always on him possessively. Like she wanted me to suffer slowly. Like it wasn’t enough that she’d stolen my husband—she wanted me to watch.
And then the messages started.
“I was the one he wanted. Always was. You were just… there.”
“The third wheel turned wife. Cute.”
A laugh escaped my lips. I remembered. The way she used to hang off him at parties. How I trailed behind them like a ghost. Always invited, never wanted. I had always been the second choice.
Maybe Layla was right. Maybe I was the third wheel all along. Maybe I deserved this for stealing him that wedding night.
Still, I didn’t cry. I saved everything. I forwarded the entire folder to my secretary, Cara, with a single message:
“Use this to expose everything once I’m gone. Destroy him. Erase his name from my family’s company. Make them bankrupt again.”
A second later, Cara replied:
“Understood. But ma’am… who’s going to take over everything?”
I stared at the screen for a moment before typing back: “My soon-to-be husband.”
And with that, I turned off my phone. But it only stayed silent for two minutes before another message came in.
Mateo: Today’s a celebration at the house. I can’t come with you. You should drop by and bring something for my mother.
No apology. No emotion. Not even a "How are you feeling?"
Just an instruction. Like I was his employee. Like nothing had happened.
At first, I ignored it. I was seconds away from deleting the message but then I paused.
This would be the last time. So I put on a beige dress, simple but elegant. Pulled my hair back. Slipped on heels. And packed a box of imported tea I knew his mother liked.
It was the last gift I’d ever give them.
Laughter echoed in the hallway. When I stepped into the living room, I nearly turned back.
Layla was there. Seated comfortably beside Mateo’s mother, laughing, holding her hand like a dutiful daughter-in-law. Her other hand casually rested on her slightly rounded stomach.
She looked up first. Her lips curled into a grin. “Oh, look. The wife is here.”
Mateo’s mother, Isabel, barely blinked. “Ah, yes. The cursed wife.”
My breath caught.
“I still can’t believe what happened to her parents,” she continued, turning to Layla with a pitiful sigh. “Such a tragedy. But the fortune teller was right. She brings death, and surely she’d be the downfall of this family, so she really needs to be gone.”
I froze in place.
Just a few years ago, I was the most beloved daughter-in-law this family had ever known. Mateo’s mother used to invite me to every luncheon, clinging to my arm as if I were a trophy. She’d smile at me like I was her daughter by blood.
They used to say, “We couldn’t have survived without Isla.”
But now? Now that my parents are gone—now that the company was merged, the contracts signed, the power was about to be transferred—they no longer needed me.
So this was their plan all along. I should’ve known.
“She’s still here only because Mateo hasn’t divorced her yet,” she added, “but don’t worry, dear. She’ll be gone soon. Especially now that the heir is here.” She ran a hand over Layla’s stomach.
My stomach twisted, but I kept my chin up.
I stepped forward and placed the box of tea on the table. “I came to deliver this.”
Mateo’s mother glanced at the green diamond necklace I wore—my mother’s last gift.
Her eyes lit up. “That necklace looks lovely. Give it to me.”
I stared at her. “No. It belonged to my mother. I have another gift for you—”
“Exactly,” she said, reaching toward it. “And your mother is dead. It would be such a beautiful gift from you. After all, what use do you have for heirlooms?”
“I said no,” I repeated, backing away. “It’s mine.”
She lunged forward and grabbed it.
“Give it to me now!”
“No!” I screamed, clutching it tightly. “Let go! That’s the only thing I have left of my parents!”
Her hand yanked the chain.
I shrieked, “I said no!”
Suddenly, Isabel clutched her chest and staggered backward.
Her face twisted in pain, one hand gripping the armrest, the other still yanking at my necklace. “Agh—!”
She collapsed to the floor, gasping, her fingers trembling as she pointed at me. “That bitch—she’s a curse! Look what she’s done to me! Just because I asked for her necklace—selfish, ungrateful—”
“Someone call an ambulance!” another shouted.
The room erupted into chaos. And then the door slammed open.
Mateo burst in. “What the hell is happening?!”
Layla ran to him, wrapping her arms around his and sobbing theatrically. “It’s your mom—she collapsed! She was fine until she fought with Isla.”
Isabel managed to speak between coughs, “She’s cursed… Mateo, I told you, she brings nothing but ruin, look at what she did to me!”
Mateo rushed to his mother’s side, cradling her head. “Mom… stop talking like that, she’s my wife. What are you saying?!”
“I don’t care,” Isabel hissed, her eyes narrowing at me. “She’s a curse! She’ll destroy you, just like her family and her baby are already gone!”
I turned, unable to breathe in that house a second longer. I stormed through the hallway, clutching the strap of my bag, trying to blink back the tears that threatened to fall.
“Isla!” Layla called after me.
I didn’t stop.
She ran faster and then behind me, I heard it.
A loud thud. A scream.
I turned just in time to see Layla crumpled at the base of the staircase, one heel twisted beneath her, hand clutching her stomach.
“Ahhh! Mateo!” she screamed. “She pushed me!”
