💮͓̽His Mistress💮

Queen Checkmate.

💮Third Person💮

Raul sped back to his condo, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, Angel's urgent message burning in his mind.

He trusted Angel—she'd never lie to him, but doubt flickered, a nagging question of how she'd known.

Was she afraid a child would bind him to Catalina, pulling him back to a marriage he'd long abandoned?

He'd sworn he'd never leave Angel, yet the possibility that she might stoop to manipulation gnawed at him, even as he dismissed it.

Inside, Catalina sat on the plush couch, legs crossed tightly, her blonde hair pulled back, her green eyes blazing with barely contained excitement as she glared at Angel.

Across from her, Angel lounged, infuriatingly relaxed, nibbling on a slice of watermelon, its juice glistening on her lips.

The contrast between them was grim—Catalina's tense anticipation versus Angel's cool defiance, each woman a mirror of the other's determination to claim Raul.

Raul's arrival shattered the standoff, his presence filling the room like a storm. Catalina sprang up, rushing toward him.

"Raul, I'm glad—" she started, but he pushed her aside, his focus locked on Angel.

"Caramella," he called, his voice rough, pulling her arm with enough force to send the watermelon slipping from her hands, splattering red juice across the marble floor.

"My watermelon," Angel pouted, her gaze dropping to the mess,

"Are you sure about what you said, Angel?" Raul asked, his tone sharp, his blue eyes searching hers for any hint of deception.

Angel pulled back from him, slightly annoyed.

"She hasn't left, Raul. Ask her yourself."

Raul turned toward Catalina, whose eyes widened. She didn't understand what they were talking about—but her gut twisted with dread.

Whatever game she thought she was playing, it looked like it wasn't going to end in her favor.

Raul leaned back, his blue eyes cold and unyielding as Catalina's thin lips stretched into a smile she likely thought was charming.

"Baby, I have good news," she chirped, her voice syrupy with feigned excitement.

She placed a manicured hand on his cheek, her touch bold, possessive.

Behind him, Angel's nails dug into his palm, a silent warning that promised retribution for allowing Catalina's caress.

Raul's jaw tightened, but he remained still, watching Catalina's performance unfold.

"We're going to be parents!" Catalina squealed, bouncing with exaggerated joy.

"We'll go baby shopping soon, design the nursery. Tell me, Raul, what gender do you want first?"

"Whatever you want, Catalina," he replied, his voice flat, devoid of warmth. She beamed, oblivious, and grabbed his wrist, tugging eagerly.

"Come on, we have to leave. I've planned something special for tonight. Our baby will fix our marriage."

Her eyes shone with desperate hope as she spun, pulling him toward the door, but Raul didn't budge.

"What marriage, Catalina?" He asked, his tone cutting through her enthusiasm.

She froze, slowly turning to face him, confusion clouding her green eyes.

"O-our marriage, of course," she stammered, her smile faltering.