My Husband’s Mistress Killed Our Baby

I stood on the sidewalk outside the hospital. The night air was freezing. It bit right through my thin wool coat. I pulled the collar up, shivering, still wearing the blue hospital scrubs they gave me after ruining my clothes. My hands shook violently as I pulled out my phone.

I stared at the contact list. I hadn't called him in three years. Not since my wedding day.

I tapped the name. It rang only once.

"Ellie."

His voice was a low rumble. Steady. Safe.

"Lorenzo," I whispered. My throat felt like shattered glass. "I need a lawyer."

He didn't ask what happened. He didn't ask why. "Where are you?"

"City General."

"Stay inside the lobby. I am on my way."

Twelve minutes later, a sleek black Maybach glided up to the curb. The back door swung open before the car even fully stopped. Lorenzo stepped out. He wore a sharp charcoal suit, looking older and more dangerous than I remembered. But his dark eyes were exactly the same.

He took one look at my pale face and the plastic hospital bracelet on my wrist. His jaw tightened. A muscle ticked in his cheek. He stripped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. It smelled like cedar and expensive cologne.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled as he guided me into the warm leather interior. "I know you had the merger meeting tonight. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"I dropped it," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. He locked his gaze onto mine. "You never interrupt, Ellie. You are the priority. Always."

He drove me straight to his penthouse in the Upper East Side. It was a fortress of glass and dark wood. Quiet. Secure. He handed me a mug of hot chamomile tea and pointed to the guest suite. "No one will find you here. You are safe."

I sat on the edge of the plush bed. The tea warmed my numb fingers, but my chest felt hollowed out. I set the mug down. It was time to stop bleeding and start cutting.

I picked up my phone and dialed my personal assistant.

"Diana," I said.

"Miss Romero." Her voice was crisp and alert, even at this hour. She was the only person who still used my maiden name.

"It's over," I said flatly. "Cut it all off."

I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by the rapid clicking of a keyboard. "The shell accounts, ma'am?"

"Empty them. Freeze the credit lines. Cancel the black card Margaret uses for her country club. Cut Sophia's monthly allowance. Stop the vendor payments for Jericho's firm. As of tonight, the Daniels family doesn't get another dime of Romero wealth."

"With absolute pleasure," Diana said. I could hear the fierce, loyal smile in her voice. "Welcome back, Miss Romero."

I ended the call. The heavy weight of my grief shifted. It didn't vanish, but it hardened into something cold and sharp. A blade.

The text from Jericho came at eight the next morning.

*My office. 10 AM. Let's finish this.*

I went alone. Lorenzo wanted to tear Jericho apart in the boardroom, but I needed to do this myself. I wore a simple black dress and a pair of flats. No jewelry. No wedding ring.

Jericho's corner office was all floor-to-ceiling glass and imported chrome. I had secretly paid the lease for the last two years. He didn't know that.

He sat behind his massive mahogany desk, tapping a gold pen against the wood. He didn't even stand when I walked in.

"You made quite the scene at the hospital," he said. His tone was bored. Annoyed.

"I lost my baby, Jericho."

He flinched, just a fraction of an inch. But his massive ego quickly swallowed the guilt. He sighed heavily and pushed a thin stack of papers across the desk. "You wanted a divorce. Here it is."

I stepped closer and looked down at the document.

"Zero alimony," he stated, leaning back in his leather chair and steepling his fingers. "You keep your clothes and your little car. I keep the apartment, the company, and the liquid assets. You walk away with exactly what you brought into this marriage. Nothing."

He stared at me, waiting for the tears. He expected me to beg. In his mind, I was just a penniless girl who relied entirely on his brilliant success to survive.

"Sign it," he ordered, his voice dripping with condescension. "Before I decide to take the car, too. You have no money and nowhere to go, Ellie. Don't push me."

I picked up the pen. The metal felt cold against my skin. I looked at the man I had sacrificed everything for. He looked incredibly small.

"You're right," I said quietly, my voice dead calm. "I'll take exactly what I brought into this marriage."

I signed my name on the dotted line.