His Mistress Got a Ghost, I Got His Rival

Chapter 4: The Secret

ELENA’S POV

His mouth takes mine before I can second-guess the room, the night, or the husband waiting miles away.

It starts with raw hunger, the kind that blurs eight years of neglect into background static. I knot my fingers into his shirt, dragging him against me. He tastes of heavy cabernet and clean cedar, his broad hands locking around my waist and lifting me clean off the hardwood floor. When our skin meets on the bed, there’s none of the cold, hurried routine I’m used to with Damian. R.V. takes his time, stripping away my armor until every bitter word left in that mansion burns to ash.

When the room settles into silence, I’m resting against his chest, listening to the heavy, steady thud of his pulse.

No guilt claws at me. Only the strange, sudden shock of relief.

Then the bedside clock blinks: 4:30 AM.

Reality hits like a slap. The staff will be awake soon, and if Damian discovers I've spent the night away, he will find a way to use it against me. He has already threatened to take Leo. I cannot give him another weapon.

I sit up. “I have to go.”

R. V. releases me without argument. He doesn't ask me to stay or demand an explanation. He simply watches as I dress, and somehow, that makes leaving harder.

I collect the envelope from the marble table and return to the bedroom.

“You forgot this.”

He looks at the money, then at me. “Keep it.”

“Those were the rules.”

“I know.” He leans back against the headboard. “But I don't want you thinking you owe me anything because you came here tonight.”

His words catch me off guard. I have spent so long being reminded of what I owe Damian that I don't know what to do with a man who expects nothing in return.

R. V. reaches for his jacket and removes a matte-black card bearing a silver crest.

“If you want to see me again, call that number. It comes directly to me. No agency, no questions.”

“And if I don't?”

“Then you don't.” A faint smile touches his mouth. “I'll be disappointed, but I'll survive.”

I almost smile. “You sound very confident.”

“I'm trying to make a good impression.”

For the first time that night, I laugh without forcing it. I slip the card into my pocket and leave before I can convince myself to stay.

The sky is turning gray when I reach the estate. I lock my bedroom door, lie on my bed, and hold the black card in my hand. I have no idea whether I'll ever call him again, but I know something has changed.

For one night, my life belonged to me.

---

Three weeks pass.

I return to pretending. I play the perfect wife at family dinners, tolerate Damian's cold glares, and ignore Vivienne's smug smiles. I even manage to convince myself that the night at Suite 2801 was nothing more than a decision I made for myself.

Then the nausea begins.

One morning, I barely reach the bathroom before I vomit. I kneel beside the toilet, shaking, and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. At first, I blame exhaustion. But when I realize my period is late, a cold fear settles over me.

I wait until Damian leaves for Hart Global before driving to a pharmacy several towns away. I buy a pregnancy test and return to the estate without speaking to anyone.

Behind the locked bathroom door, I sit on the edge of the tub and wait.

Two pink lines appear.

For several seconds, I cannot move.

Pregnant.

My hand flies to my mouth as tears gather in my eyes. Beneath the shock, something tender stirs. There is a baby growing inside me, a life that has nothing to do with Damian's cruelty or the humiliation he has made me endure.

Then fear takes over.

Damian hasn't touched me in seven months. This baby is R. V.’s.

If my husband discovers the truth, he could use it to destroy me in court. He could question my fitness as a mother, threaten my access to Leo, and turn his family's influence against me. I already have one child to protect. How can I protect two when I haven't even found a way out of this marriage?

I wrap the test in tissue and hide it deep in my coat pocket. I cannot leave it where someone might find it, and I am not ready to tell anyone what has happened.

In the mirror, my face looks pale and frightened. I press a hand against my stomach, though there is nothing to feel yet.

“I won't let him hurt you,” I whisper.

The promise frightens me because I don't know how I will keep it. But this child is not a mistake I can erase or a secret I can afford to treat carelessly. Whatever happens between R. V. and me, the baby deserves a chance.

I take a deep breath, straighten my dress, and leave the bathroom.

Downstairs, Vivienne is already running through files while Damian reads the morning financial spread.

“Drink your tea,” Damian says, not bothering to lift his head from the paper. “You need to look presentable tonight.”

I pause, my hand freezing on the porcelain handle. “Tonight?”

“The Vance acquisition gala at the Blackshore Grand,” Vivienne chimes in, flashing a razor-sharp smile. “Damian needs his dutiful wife beside him for the press photographs before the board finalizes the merger.”

Damian flicks a heavy, embossed gold invitation across the linen tablecloth. It slides to a halt right against my saucer.

“The new majority shareholder of Vance Enterprises arrived in the city this morning,” Damian says, his voice flat and dismissive. “A man named Roman Vale. He just acquired thirty percent of our regional distribution lines, and he specifically requested that Mr. and Mrs. Hart attend together.”

My heart stops dead in my chest.

Beneath the embossed lettering of the invitation sits the host’s private seal—the exact same

heavy silver crest printed on the matte-black card tucked deep inside my wardrobe.