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!”
