You Killed Our Babies, Now Pay

For ten years, I'd been with Rowan Laurent—a ruthless underworld kingpin with an insatiable lust—and endured twelve heartbreaking miscarriages. All because he claimed his countless enemies would use our child against us. When I got pregnant for the thirteenth time, against all odds, he let me keep it. After the pregnancy stabilized, he went straight, leaving his criminal past behind. Then, at the seventh month of my pregnancy, I discovered his secret: a mistress. She was also pregnant, two months ahead of me. Tears burned my eyes as I confronted him. Rowan barely reacted, just a slight twitch of his brow. "Lilith's different from you. She's just a simple girl and needs a child's warmth." "You know she won't compete with you even though she has a baby. You'll always be the official Mrs. Laurent." His icy stare made my nails dig into my palms. I took a shuddering breath. "We're done." His frown deepened—those words I'd refused to say, even with a gun to my head, now hung between us. "You're seriously doing this, Maisie Steele?" His voice dropped dangerously, eyes daring me to take it back. To him, this peaceful life was everything I'd supposedly wanted. He didn't understand my sudden rebellion. Truth be told, I didn't understand it either. Yet I lifted my chin. "Dead serious." The tension thickened. His expression darkened by the second. Then, Lilith Moreau—his mistress, hidden away for over one year—broke the silence. She traced teasing circles on his palm, a flirtatious little scratch meant to calm him. "Darling, if it's too difficult... we can delay our wedding." My head jerked up. Her doll-like features hit me like a slap. Ten years. A decade of excuses why we couldn't marry. He feared having his Achilles' heel. Feared he was unable to protect me. Feared he could not give me the life I wanted. No matter how many times I said it didn't matter, he never gave me that damn certificate. Now, he was throwing a lavish wedding for her. A thousand needles pierced my chest, stealing my breath. "No need. The baby's due any day now—we can't delay the wedding any longer." Rowan fixed me with an icy stare, as if waiting for me to back down. "As for Maisie, my affairs are none of her business." Our eyes met, and my heart dropped like a rock. A memory flashed through my mind—that time I'd taken a bullet for him, hovering between life and death. He'd fought through the crowd, desperate, clutching me in his arms as blood poured from my wounds. I could still feel the warmth of his embrace, his voice breaking as he cried my name, his lips pressing against mine in a kiss that tasted of tears and blood. That was when I crossed the line—when my loyalty as his subordinate twisted into something forbidden. After that day, his men started calling me Mrs. Laurent. But now, reality hit me like a slap. There wasn't just one Mrs. Laurent. And soon, I wouldn't be Mrs. Laurent. Brushing aside the painful memories, I turned on my heel, unwilling to endure their nauseating display of affection any longer. I hadn't taken two steps when a derisive snort came from the room behind me. "Rowan," Lilith asked in a trembling voice with feigning sadness, "Did I do something wrong? Why is Maisie still upset?" Rowan let out a cold laugh. "Don't blame yourself. She's the one who doesn't know her place."