Jobless? Nope, Just Ruthless

I quickly created a private group chat, pulling in my entire team.

Not having a family of my own had always made me cling tighter to the people I trusted. My team wasn't just colleagues—they called themselves my "work family."

I fired off a message:

[@Everyone, if Logan contacts any of you, here's the story—no big deal was signed, and I've been fired.]

I stared at my phone, every second dragging out painfully. Logan could not get a straight answer from anyone before I got to them.

A reply finally came through—from my assistant.

[You planning a surprise for your husband? He just asked me about it! I almost spilled the beans—don't worry, I'll play along. I'll make it sound worse. Got it!]

I exhaled in relief, then sent another message:

[My marriage is in serious trouble. I'll explain everything when I can, but for now, if Logan reaches out, make sure everyone sticks to the same story!]

The responses rolled in fast. No questions. No hesitation.

[Got it.]

[Got it.]

[Understood.]

Once I confirmed everyone was on board, I deleted the group chat.

I switched back to the baby monitor feed just in time to see Logan glaring at his phone.

"Julie really screwed it up. She lost the deal and got fired."

Pauline was frustrated as well. "Yana's due any day now! And I already promised her that $50k-a-month maternity center!"

When I first got pregnant, I'd suggested booking a postpartum care center too. Something to help with recovery, ease the transition into motherhood. I'd even found a great one at $15k a month.

But Pauline? She shot it down immediately. "Why waste money on strangers? No one will take care of you better than family!"

But now she was happily dropping fifty grand a month—for Yana?

That name hit me like a slap.

Yana.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced.

One afternoon, I'd forgotten some documents at home and doubled back to grab them. Pauline had been in the living room, laughing with a young, pregnant woman. The table was covered with the expensive fruits I'd bought—peels and cores littering the floor.

"She's my distant niece," Pauline had said. "She's here for a prenatal checkup."

And that woman's name?

Yana Twain.

At the time, Yana had looked at me with barely concealed hostility, her words sharp and laced with sarcasm.

Later, I vented to Logan.

His response?

"You're too sensitive."

Right. Sensitive.

Turns out, they'd been parading his mistress in front of me.

***

In the baby monitor feed, Logan said something before leaving the nursery.

Pauline rolled her eyes and muttered, "I've given her so much of that stuff. Why hasn't she lost the baby yet? Could the meds be fake? No way... I paid a fortune to Dr. Brophy back in my hometown for those."

A chill ran through me.

Pauline had been poisoning me.

My hands trembled.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open.

Logan.

I scrambled to close the baby monitor app, my heart racing.

Just moments ago, I'd heard him on the monitor. "The house is in her name. It's a premarital asset. We'll wait until we switch to a new house.

"If she behaves, fine. But if not? Well, an eight-month pregnant woman with no family—who's going to care if something happens to her?

"As long as we don't press charges, no one will bother investigating her death."

***

A while back, Logan said the house would feel too small once the baby came. We should sell it, upgrade to something bigger.

Two hours ago, I was all in on that future—thinking my bonus could help with a new place. Maybe even send Logan and Pauline on some fancy trip after the baby was born.

Turns out, that dream wasn't mine. It was their plan to kill me.

I looked at Logan. That face I used to think was charming? Now, all I saw was pure, cold-blooded cruelty.

And suddenly, everything clicked.

Of course he'd pursued me so hard once he found out I had no family.

He'd been planning this from the start.