“Why not?” His eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that the truth? You’re your father’s daughter. Have you forgotten how he scammed me and ran away? Maybe you’re just like him—using the child to get what you want.”
His words cut deeper than knives. My heart squeezed so tight I could barely breathe.
“Leandro, do you even hear yourself?”
Before I could say more, Nadine’s soft voice cut in, feigning guilt. “Please… if this is my fault, don’t fight.”
“No,” Leandro snapped, glaring at me. “This is her fault—for not taking care of Gwen in the first place.”
I staggered back, my legs weakening, when the butler entered. He carried a small box, his expression pale.
“A delivery… for you, sir,” he said, handing it over.
Leandro opened it. Nadine gasped. I screamed.
Inside was a small toe. Gwen’s. Wrapped in cloth, stained in blood.
I collapsed to the floor, my body wracked with sobs. “Gwen…” My baby.
And then Leandro’s phone buzzed. He played the video the kidnappers sent. Gwen’s tiny voice echoed through the speakers, muffled by her cries. “Mommy… mommy, help…”
The kidnapper’s voice followed, cold and merciless. “If you don’t send the money, she dies.”
My chest shattered, but before I could beg, Leandro scoffed. “That’s a huge amount. I won’t waste my money on this. Just let her be. When the kidnappers realize we don’t care, they’ll return her.”
I stared at him, horrified. “Leandro! That’s my child—”
But he only smirked, turning toward Nadine. “After all, I still have another child.” He wrapped an arm around her, protective, possessive, and walked her away like I was nothing.
There I sat, on the cold marble floor, my tears falling endlessly. Realizing in that moment the brutal truth—Leandro had replaced me completely. Nadine wasn’t a secret anymore. She was his future. His priority. His family.
And I? I was nothing.
My phone buzzed while I sat slumped against the edge of the bed, hollow from crying. I forced myself to look at the screen. Martin.
Don’t worry, his message read. I just sent that to test if your husband would act. He didn’t. Then divorce him. Got it? Gwen is safe with me. Not even hurt.
For a second, my chest loosened. Relief crashed over me, so sharp it nearly broke me again. My Gwen. Safe. My baby was alive.
My fingers shook as I typed back. Then do me a favor, Martin. Fake my baby’s death—and mine too. I never want him to touch our lives again. Not after this. Not after everything.