💮͓̽His Mistress💮

Another Man's Baby.

"You were pregnant before we got engaged?"

Raul's voice cracked, low and sharp, fury and betrayal swirling in his blue eyes.

His hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white, as if holding himself back from shattering.

Claretta's tear-streaked face crumpled, her swollen eyes desperate.

"I-I'm sorry, Raul," she stammered, her voice trembling. "I thought I loved him."

"And now what?" He let out a bitter chuckle. "You expect me to raise a child that isn't mine?" His jaw clenched. "You've completely lost it, Claretta."

"R-Raul, please—" she choked, her hands wringing.

"Go back to Nickolai," he snapped, venom lacing every word. "And don't ever show your face again."

"Please, Raul, if not for me, then for the child in my womb," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "We can work this out, I swear."

"I said leave!" he roared, his voice thunderous. "Before I do something I'll regret."

His rage was terrifying—raw and barely contained. For a split second, I truly thought he might snap.

Claretta's pleading gaze darted to me, her eyes wide, begging for an ally.

Wrong move.

I looked away instantly. I was the last person she should expect sympathy or help from. I wanted Raul just as badly as she did—maybe more.

After a long, pathetic sob, she finally dragged herself out, leaving only the three of us in a room heavy with silence.

The tension was suffocating.

I wanted to ask about Nikolai, about Claretta, about the child—his—child?—but the storm in Raul's eyes told me now wasn't the time.

Trying to ease the weight in the air, I went to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses.

"Thanks," Bianco murmured, managing a faint smile as he took one.

I turned to Raul. He hadn't moved. His entire body was a statue of control barely hanging on.

His jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle twitch.

I knew he wouldn't hurt me despite how angry he was. Still, I treaded lightly.

"Raul..." I called softly.

He didn't respond.

Instead, he stood, eyes still locked on mine—cold, unreadable.

"I'm going for a drive," he muttered. "Don't wait up."He kissed my forehead and turned to leave.

"Raul—" I tried to stop him, but the door shut before I could.

I sighed, my heart heavy with anxiety.

In movies, or books, moments like this led to disaster—a car crash, a phone call you don't want to get, a reckless decision, something which tears the hero apart.

I shut my eyes, willing the dark thoughts away, my fingers gripping the wine glass tightly.

"Hey," Bianco's voice pulled me back. He came over and gently squeezed my shoulder. "Don't let it get to you, okay? He just needs to blow off steam. This isn't about you."

I offered a small smile, grateful for his effort.

"I know." I whispered, but the truth was—I didn't.

💮Third Person💮

Catalina stared at the pregnancy test, its positive result glaring back like a ticking bomb.

A cold sweat trickled down her back as she sat on the edge of her bed, head buried in her palms.

Her thoughts raced, disjointed and sharp like shards of glass.

How was she supposed to tell Nickolai? Worse—how would she face Raul?

If she claimed the child was his, he'd see through the lie in an instant; Raul was slipping through her fingers, and Angel, that conniving bitch, was poised to snatch him away for good.

She shut her eyes, drawing a shaky breath, her palm resting on her still-flat belly.

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered to the fetus, her voice barely audible. "I'll have to deny your real father, but I promise Raul will be good to you."

A tear slipped down her cheek. She swallowed the guilt. There was no room for it now.

"I'm sorry, Nickolai," she whispered next. "But I can't lose Raul. Not to her."

She knew she had made mistakes—countless ones. She pushed him away, emotionally and sexually starved him, held onto pride instead of love. But that didn't matter now. It was time to fix everything.

Time to take back what was hers—before Angel could sink her claws deeper.

Catalina drove to their shared house, her hands gripping the wheel, but found it empty, the silence mocking her. She knew where he'd be—his condo, with her.

Flooring the gas, she sped through the city.

Bursting into the condo, she screamed, "Raul!"

Her voice echoed, but it was Angel who appeared, descending the stairs like a queen in one of Raul's oversized shirts, her curly hair in a messy bun, her confidence infuriating.

That shirt should be mine, Catalina thought, her nails digging into her palms.

Angel's eyes landed on her, and a smirk curved her lips, igniting Catalina's rage.

"Hello, Catalina," Angel greeted, her tone dripping with mockery.

Catalina glared, her blood boiling. She'd learned Angel wasn't just a slut but a calculated psycho—starting a fight could be her undoing, and she wasn't ready to die, not until she'd watched Angel's perfect world crumble.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Angel," she shot back, mirroring her smirk.

"Thanks for the advice, Mrs. D'Amano," Angel replied, emphasizing the title with a venom that sent chills down Catalina's spine, a coded warning she couldn't quite decipher.

"But don't worry about me—everything I have will last forever."

Catalina's teeth gnashed, but she held her tongue.

"Let's see about that, Angel," she hissed, her mind racing with the bombshell she was about to drop.

Once Raul knew about the pregnancy, Angel's smug confidence would shatter.

"If you don't mind, I'll be in our room," Angel said, her voice taunting, before sauntering off, leaving Catalina seething.

Catalina's nostrils flared.

"You won't see it coming, Angel. I'm about to ruin you and take my man back," she muttered, sinking into the couch.