How could Marcello’s mom be her? After closing the monitoring app, I pulled up Rachel Gonzaga’s WhatsApp. Staring at her profile picture, which was identical to “Marcello’s Mom’s.”
I chuckled a few times. It turned out Lorenzo hadn’t cheated after marriage. He approached me solely for this child’s heart.
This trap, threatening both my life and my child’s, had been set two years prior. When I graduated and was looking for a job, I submitted my resume to the prestigious Gonzaga Corporation.
Many more qualified classmates were rejected, yet I received the job offer alone. Just as I marveled at my incredible luck, an even bigger opportunity landed in my lap.
Lorenzo chose me, a new hire with mediocre credentials, limited skills and an unrelated major, to be his assistant.
Half a year later, I became best friends with Rachel, the Gonzaga Family’s only daughter.
When I thought fate was finally compensating me for the hardships of my first 23 years, Lorenzo proposed.
I had to admit, he and Rachel worked together seamlessly. From the day I joined the company for three years, they maintained a distant, professional relationship.
Even while watching Lorenzo kiss me passionately at our wedding, Rachel showed no emotion whatsoever. The only time I saw her visibly shaken was when I shared the news of my pregnancy with her.
Thinking of this, I quickly scrolled through her social media feed. The timeline froze on February 14th of this year.
On Valentine’s Day, she posted a photo of a pregnancy test with the caption: “This long journey is finally coming to an end.”
I was immersed in the joy of becoming a mother at the time. I hadn’t realized that photo was one I’d sent to Lorenzo.
After all the clues matched, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of fear. Just then, a wave of aching pain washed over my lower back and belly.
As if sensing my turmoil, the baby kicked my belly with all its might. The thought that this tiny life, which had shared every moment with me for seven months, was merely a vessel to sustain someone else’s existence.
Tears fell steadily down my cheeks. The faces of Lorenzo and Rachel, that despicable couple, kept flashing through my mind.
Steeling myself, I gently stroked my belly and whispered, “Baby, it’s my fault. I failed to protect you. But I’ll never let them succeed.”