To Depose a Nameless King

Kurt's pupils constricted. The hand holding the syringe gave an almost imperceptible tremor.

He immediately covered it up, his fear morphing into the typical, offended fury of a cornered leader.

"Maggie, what's with that look?" he roared, using his authority to mask his guilt. "I am your husband! The head of this family! Would I harm you? Would I harm my own heir?"

I could smell the sour stench of his desperation.

Husband? A bitter laugh died in my throat. In my past life, it was this so-called "husband" who had ordered me to be tortured to death.

My deepest wounds never came from my enemies. They always came from you, Kurt.

But I didn't call his bluff. I knew the drug wouldn't cause permanent harm to a healthy adult. It would only induce severe muscle spasms. The perfect prop for my performance.

"Of course not," I said softly. "I'm just nervous."

I plunged the needle into my arm and pushed the cold liquid into my vein. Kurt let out a quiet sigh of relief, a savage satisfaction flickering in his eyes.

The drug worked faster than I expected. Five minutes later, a violent cramp seized my abdomen. The pain was real. Cold sweat soaked my silk nightgown.

I collapsed onto the sofa, letting out a pained groan. "Ah… it hurts…"

Just then, Kurt's phone rang. His face went ashen. He answered it, listening for a few seconds.

"Damn it! Ava—she's in labor too!"

He yelled in panic, completely forgetting me as I writhed in "agony" beside him, fumbling for his car keys.

The rain was coming down in sheets. Kurt's car tore out of the estate like a bat out of hell, racing toward Ava. She was slumped in the back seat, drenched, her screams nearly shattering the bulletproof windows.

"Kurt! Save me! Something is tearing me apart!" She clawed at his arm. "It hurts! Our baby… we're going to die!"

"It's okay, Ava, hang on!" Kurt roared, his expression frantic as he glanced back at her, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "I'm here! I swear I'll save you and our child!"

And me? I was curled up in the passenger seat, pale and racked with pain. Kurt didn't even spare me a glance. I was just baggage he'd tossed aside.

The car screeched to a halt before the family's private hospital, where a medical team was already waiting at the entrance.

"Quick! Get Ava first! She's in critical condition!" Kurt yelled, pushing aside a nurse who tried to help me. He swept Ava into his arms and rushed toward the VIP maternity ward on the top floor.

As she whimpered in his arms, her head on his shoulder, Ava's eyes met mine. A victorious, vicious sneer twisted her lips.

I was left alone in the downpour, the rain mixing with the cold sweat on my face. A few minutes later, two young nurses rushed out with a wheelchair. "Madam, hold on!"

I was wheeled into a private suite. The cold steel door slammed shut. My performance was over.

Inside the private suite, Dr. Eleanor was waiting for me. She had already dismissed the others, keeping only her two most trusted nurses. Our eyes met.

Dr. Eleanor glanced at my flat stomach, her face an expression of mingled awe and fear. She gave a silent, solemn nod, indicating her full cooperation.

Everything was in place.

The minutes ticked by. The thunder outside masked the dirty dealings happening within.

Hours later, in the dead of night, my room was silent save for the steady beep of the heart-rate monitor. I lay in bed, eyes closed, breathing evenly, feigning the deep exhaustion of a woman who had just survived a massive hemorrhage. But every muscle in my body was tense, every sense on high alert.

The lock clicked. Someone tiptoed in. A faint, cloyingly sweet fragrance entered my nostrils—a scent I had only ever smelled on members of the Bratva.

The footsteps were light, hesitant, heavy with guilt as they approached my bed.

It was Kurt.

He was holding a tightly wrapped bundle. Even through the thick blanket, I could hear a low, grating whimper.

That was the bastard Ava had birthed.

Kurt held his breath, tiptoeing to my bedside. His hands trembled, ready to swap this foreign-scented infant for the pure-blooded heir who never existed.

He leaned down, the baby's face just inches from my neck.

In that instant…

My eyes snapped open.

In the dim glow of the nightlight, my icy gaze locked onto his terror-twisted face.

"Kurt," my voice cut through the darkness, "what are you doing?"