“Why don’t you scream at him? Why don’t you fight him? Why put on this act of being so magnanimous? You’re pathetic! Do you think playing the understanding wife will make Zayn feel guilty enough to compensate you?
“That’s not love; it’s just guilt! Staying in a marriage without love—you’ll be nothing but miserable!”
I bit my lip hard, refusing to let myself cry.
“Oh, and by the way—the baby in my belly? It isn’t even Zayn’s. But he’s so desperate for a child, I told one little lie and he believed me.”
I was stunned… Before I could respond, she suddenly shoved me hard.
“I’ll prove to you who Zayn truly cares about the most.”
Then, she threw herself to the ground on purpose, writhing and groaning in agony. “My stomach. It hurts…”
Clutching her belly, blood began to seep between her legs.
Panic surged through me. I did not even touch her, yet she was bleeding…
Zayn’s footsteps thundered toward us. When he saw her on the ground, his face drained of all color. “Whitney!”
He rushed to carry her in his arms, then turned to me with a furious glare. “Yvonne, what did you do to her?”
“I didn’t—” I shook my head desperately, but Whitney’s trembling voice cut me off.
“Zayn, don’t blame her. I know she doesn’t like me or my child…”
Her weak sobs made his fury burn hotter. He shoved me aside, cradled her in his arms, and stormed away. “Yvonne, you’ve gone too far! If anything happens to Whitney, I’ll never forgive you!”
I collapsed to the ground, staring at them from behind. My heart was ice cold.
Zayn never came home that night. I was the only one left in the vast, empty villa. I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep.
All I could see was his face, full of mistrust, and Whitney’s triumphant smile.
The next morning, I began packing my things. I filled my suitcases with everything I owned and cleared away every trace of myself from the house. When I was done, I dragged my luggage to the door.
Before closing the door behind me, I turned for one last look. This place had once been my home with Zayn. Now, it no longer belonged to me.
Before leaving, I called my lawyer.
“Mr. Lane, has everything been arranged?”
“Yes, Ms. Rivers. The funds have been transferred to your account. Your passport is ready, and the property in Swizor has been secured. Everything is in order.”
I nodded, feeling a strange peace settle in my chest. “All right. Thank you. I’m leaving now.”
The moment I ended the call, I saw a news headline flashing across my phone screen.
[Mafia boss Zayn Levine is a total hen-pecked husband!]
I had been married to him for years, and yet no one even knew me. There was never any public acknowledgment. Perhaps that had already said it all.
Perhaps Zayn knew all along that Whitney’s claim—that she was carrying his child—was a lie. He just pretended not to know. Why he did that, well, only he would know the answer.
After all, a mafia leader and a shrewd businessman like him would never fall for such a flimsy lie.
However, the truth no longer mattered. I did not care anymore.
I touched my stomach. At least I still had my children.
I took a deep breath and deleted every trace of Zayn from my phone. Then, I left to board my flight.
