THE WIFE HE REGRETTED LOSING

THE CARTER MANSION

Lola never imagined she’d come back to the Carter Mansion like this.

She stood in front of those tall iron gates, black and silent against a gloomy morning sky. They used to open for her every day. Now they just felt cold—like guards keeping her out.

Rain lingered on the pavement, carrying the smell of wet grass and clipped hedges. Lola hesitated outside for a while. Three years. How many times had she walked this driveway as Daniel Carter’s wife? She’d been greeted by staff, given orders, wandered long marble hallways that felt like her own.

Now, it seemed like none of that had ever been real. She gripped the strap of the little bag on her shoulder—just that, nothing more. No suitcase, no spare clothes. Only what she wore and the few things she left behind after that night at the hospital.

She drew a slow breath and pressed the intercom. The buzzing cracked the silence.

“Who is it?” A man’s voice—one of the guards.

She hesitated. “It’s...Lola.”

A long silence.

“Mrs. Carter?” He sounded uncertain now.

Her chest tightened at the title. “Just Lola.”

Another pause. The gates started to groan open.

Lola stepped through, the old trees waving as she walked down the driveway. At the end, the mansion loomed—white marble, glass windows, so beautiful it almost hurt. Once, Daniel had led her here, his hand on her back, saying, “This will be your home now.”

She almost wanted to laugh. Back then, she’d believed him.

She reached the door, and it swung open before she could knock. Mrs. Turner, the housekeeper, stood in the entryway—silver hair, stern face, but softer now as she saw Lola.

“Mrs—” She caught herself. “I mean...Miss Lola.”

Lola nodded. “Hello, Mrs. Turner.”

“Please, come in.”

Inside, everything looked just as it had before—so much space, chandeliers throwing light on shiny marble floors. It all felt foreign. Like the house had let go of her too easily. Servants drifted in and out, some murmuring, some staring, some pretending not to notice her at all.

Lola walked to the stairs. “I’m just here for my things.”

Mrs. Turner nodded, but before Lola could move, a voice floated down from above:

“Oh?”

Soft. Pleasant. But it caught Lola in the chest.

Vanessa stood at the top of the stairs, draped in a loose silk dress. One hand rested on her pregnant belly, and she looked completely at home. Two maids hovered behind her with bags and clothes.

A slow smile grew on Vanessa’s lips. “Didn’t think you’d come back so soon.”

Lola didn’t bother replying.

Vanessa took her time coming down, eyes flicking over Lola—pale face, tired eyes, simple clothes.

“You look exhausted,” she said, and smiled sweetly.

Lola clenched her bag. “I just came to pack.”

“Oh?” Vanessa’s eyebrows lifted. She shot a glance at the servants nearby. “You mean the things Daniel let you keep?”

The room grew quiet. The servants shifted, some looking away, others stealing glances at Lola.

Vanessa stepped closer. “Suppose that’s fair. After all, everything here belongs to Daniel.” She smoothed a hand over her belly. “And now...to his child.”

Lola straightened her back. “I’m not here to take anything that isn’t mine.”

Vanessa smiled again. “Good.” She turned to the staff. “Did you hear that? Miss Lola’ll only take what’s hers.”

Some nodded, uneasy. Vanessa laughed, a soft little sound. “That makes things easy. Technically...” Her eyes glinted. “Nothing here belongs to you.”

The words stung. Lola felt her face burn with humiliation, but she kept steady.

Vanessa looked her up and down, then sighed, all mock concern. “You know, I always wondered what Daniel saw in you.”

Everyone froze. Even the servants seemed to stop breathing.

“You’re not especially beautiful,” Vanessa went on, eyes roving over Lola. “Not charming. And obviously not strong enough to carry his child.”

Lola’s heart hammered, but she kept quiet.

Leaning in, Vanessa dropped her voice. “You should be grateful he even married you.”

Then she straightened up with a cold, satisfied smile. “You were never worthy of Daniel.”