Weekend at Iva's Apartment
The smell of roasted chicken filled Iva's cozy apartment as sunlight poured in through the open blinds. It was a rare, peaceful Saturday morning, and Iva was enjoying a quiet moment with her mother, Mia—an elegant, strong-willed woman in her early fifties with a sharp mind and a heart that always worried for her only daughter.
They sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea.
"Iva," Mia began gently, her eyes scanning her daughter's face, "I wanted to speak to you about something important."
Iva smiled warily. "Whenever you start with that tone, I know trouble is near."
Mia chuckled. "It's not trouble. Just… marriage."
Iva groaned. "Mom."
"No, listen. One of your father's friends —Mr Bruce — his son, James, just returned from the Milan. He's brilliant. Law degree, quiet, kind, and very successful. He saw your picture during a dinner i had with his family and he liked you instantly."
Iva sighed. "And?"
"And… he's asked if i could arrange a meeting."
Iva stared into her cup, then looked up. Her voice was calm but firm.
"I can't do it, Mom. I'm in love with someone else."
Mia's brows furrowed. "Who?"
There was a pause. Then Iva answered, softly but confidently.
"Ethan Richardson."
Mia blinked. "Ethan?" She sat up straighter. "Ethan… as in your boss? The Richardson heir? Laura's husband?"
"I know how it sounds," Iva said quickly, "but I've loved him since high school. I never said anything because it wasn't right. I thought maybe it was just a teenage thing. But it never went away. And I've seen the kind of man he's grown into… kind, fair, steady. I've watched him carry pain without becoming cruel."
Her voice cracked slightly.
"I've stayed silent. I've never crossed a line. But I've also never loved anyone else. I won't marry someone to make everyone else happy, not when my heart already belongs to him. I'm not breathing just for myself anymore. I'm breathing for him."
Mia was silent, stunned.
She placed her hand on her daughter's.
"I always knew you admired him," she whispered. "But I didn't know it had grown this deep."
"It did. It has," Iva said. "And it's too late to uproot it now."
Mia exhaled. "Then all I can do is pray your heart survives this love."
*********
It was a cool Wednesday evening when Laura finally decided to tell him.
Ethan had just stepped in from work, suit jacket slung over one shoulder, looking tired but at peace. The house was quiet. Just the hum of the air conditioner and the faint clink of glass as Laura poured water into a cup.
"I have something to tell you," she said, her tone uncertain.
Ethan looked up from untying his shoes. "What is it?"
She walked closer and handed him the glass. "I… I'm pregnant."
The silence lasted exactly three seconds.
Then—Ethan stood, blinking in disbelief. "Wait. Are you serious?"
Laura nodded. "Yes."
For a moment, he just stared at her. Then a slow, stunned smile broke across his face, one Laura had never seen before. Pure joy, pure disbelief.
"I'm going to be a father?" he whispered.
She nodded again, this time with a tear rolling down her cheek.
Ethan pulled her into a hug, lifting her slightly off the ground. He kissed her hair, her temple, her cheek.
"I can't believe this," he murmured. "This is the happiest day of my life."
Laura melted into him, burying her face in his chest — her heart heavy with both relief and guilt.
The Next Morning – At Work
Ethan walked into his office practically glowing. The first person he called was Iva.
"Iva," he said when she stepped in, "close the door."
She did, curious.
Then he dropped the bombshell: "Laura's pregnant."
Iva blinked. For a moment, her stomach dropped — but she immediately schooled her expression and smiled. "Ethan… congratulations!"
"I'm going to be a dad," he said, sitting back with a boyish grin. "Can you believe it?"
"I'm really happy for you," she said sincerely, though something sharp twisted inside her chest. "You deserve this kind of joy."
He stood and hugged her. "Thank you. For everything, Iva."
She smiled and blinked away the sting of tears. "Always."
Public Celebration – The Richardson Grandchild
It didn't take long for the news to break.
Danny, Laura's ever-proud and opportunistic mother, posted a carefully crafted photo on Instagram of Laura holding a pair of tiny designer baby shoes, captioned:
"The Richardson heir is on the way! Can't wait to hold my grandchild. 💙💖 #ProudMama #EliteBloodline #LauraDidThat"
Within hours, magazine covers plastered Laura's glowing face across headlines like:
"Golden Girl Laura Expecting First Richardson Grandchild!"
"From Power Wife to Proud Mother — Laura's Elite Reign Continues"
At a private dinner, Henry Richardson beamed proudly as he clinked glasses with Albert, Laura's father.
"I told you," Albert said, chest puffed. "My Laura was made for your son. And now she's giving him a child. They're perfect together."
Henry smiled. "She's been good for Ethan. I see it. He's different now. At peace."
Albert nodded, his pride nearly spilling over. "And this is only the beginning."
Meanwhile – Liam in the Shadows
Liam sat alone in his apartment, the magazine cover in his lap, his jaw clenched so tightly the veins in his neck stood out.
His fingers traced the headline slowly.
Laura Expecting Richardson Heir
He crumpled the paper and threw it across the room.
His phone buzzed.
Laura.
He opened the text:
"Stop texting me. I'm pregnant. Don't ruin this for me."
He replied:
"Don't forget who that child really belongs to."
She didn't answer.
Another message came:
"You think you can hide it forever? I know the truth. You'll pay for this."
And another:
"You betrayed me. You owe me."
Laura, sitting on the bed at home, quickly deleted the messages, heart pounding.
Ethan walked in moments later with a glass of warm milk for her, his face glowing.
She smiled weakly. "Thank you, love."
He kissed her forehead and rubbed her belly gently. "Sleep well, mama."
And as he walked out, Laura clutched her phone tightly to her chest, terrified.
Because she knew Liam wasn't finished.
Not yet.
Liam sat in the dim glow of his living room, surrounded by silence, broken only by the slow tick of the antique wall clock. A half-empty glass of scotch rested beside him, untouched for an hour. His eyes, bloodshot from sleepless nights, stayed fixed on a glowing tablet in his lap — a video of Laura at a charity gala from just a day ago. She was smiling beside Ethan, one hand on her growing belly, the other interlocked with her husband's.
They looked perfect.
Fake.
Liam paused the video on a frame where Laura's eyes sparkled with laughter. He zoomed in on her hand resting on her stomach — his child, his legacy growing inside her, carried under Ethan's name.
He gritted his teeth, shut the tablet, and tossed it onto the couch.
"This is not how it was supposed to go," he muttered to himself, pacing the room like a caged animal.
He remembered everything — their nights in university, the way she once looked at him with admiration, the secrets they whispered under moonlight. He had worshipped her like a queen, trusted her, dreamed of building an empire with her. And now, she was parading around as if she belonged to someone else.
As if Ethan could give her anything he couldn't.
He pulled out his phone and scrolled through their old messages — photos, jokes, naked confessions. Then the recent ones:
"Don't forget who that child really belongs to."
"You'll pay for this."
"You think Ethan will still look at you the same if he finds out?"
Laura hadn't replied in days.
But it didn't matter. Liam wasn't asking anymore. He was planning.
*********
Liam began keeping tabs on Laura — through social media, through their old contacts, even through paid sources. He found a blogger who specialized in discreet intel for the wealthy and bored.
Within days, he had photos of Laura's hospital visit, her latest spa appointment, and even one of her lunch dates with Faye. Each image fueled the fire growing inside him.
At night, he'd sit on his bed with her name on his lips like a curse and a prayer.
"She's mine," he whispered to the shadows. "She's still mine."
One night, he drove past the Ethan and Laura estate, parking far enough to remain unseen. The lights were on. Through the high walls, he could see a faint silhouette — Ethan helping Laura into a chair on the patio. She was laughing at something he said, her shoulders relaxed.
Liam's fist tightened around the steering wheel.
He reached for his phone and dialed — once, twice — but hung up before she could answer.
He knew better than to confront her head-on now.
He needed a plan.
He needed to take back what was his, without losing everything.
Liam was no fool — he understood how the Richardson world worked. Image was everything. Legacy was sacred. A scandal wasn't just gossip — it was a weapon. And he knew the sharpest dagger lay in paternity doubt.
He began leaking anonymous whispers to select blogs — nothing concrete, just enough to stir suspicion:
"Insider hint: All is not as it seems with the next Richardson heir."
"Sources say the timelines don't align. Is it really Ethan's child?"
"High society's golden couple may be hiding a scandal."
Of course, none of the top media houses would touch it without proof.
But the right people were starting to ask questions.
The whispers would plant the seed. And Liam was waiting to water it when the time was right.
Anna visited her son a week later. She was dressed impeccably, but her eyes were sharp and cold.
"I heard the rumors," she said the moment she stepped into his apartment. "Was it you?"
Liam turned from the window, unbothered. "Maybe."
"Have you lost your mind?" she hissed. "You want to bring down your own family now?"
"No, mother," he said coolly. "Just the thief pretending to be me."
Anna was silent.
"You promised me the world," Liam continued. "The company. The legacy. The girl."
"I didn't give her to Ethan," Anna snapped. "Henry did. And you did nothing to fight for her. Now you sulk like a boy."
"I'm fighting now," he said, stepping closer. "This time, I'll get everything."
Anna shook her head. "This path ends in fire, Liam."
"Then I'll burn," he said. "But I won't lose again."
**************
Laura was trying to live the dream.
The magazines were calling her the "Modern Dynasty Queen." Her photos with Ethan were being used in maternity ads and talk shows. Steph had taken to calling her every few days to check in with genuine affection.
But at night, when the lights were off and Ethan was fast asleep beside her, Laura stared at her phone, deleting message after message from Liam.
Sometimes she dreamt of him — of those few moments where guilt hadn't yet touched desire. And she would wake up sweating, crying, whispering prayers that her secret stayed buried.
She had betrayed the one person who had never hurt her.
And she knew, deep down, that if the truth came out, nothing would survive the fallout.
**********
It began as nothing — a quiet evening at home.
Ethan had come home early for once, surprising Laura with flowers and a gentle kiss to her forehead. She beamed, kissed him back, and served his favorite seafood pasta while he rubbed her growing belly with a soft smile. The house felt full. Peaceful.
Later that night, while Laura showered, Ethan sat on the bed, scrolling through some business emails on her phone — He'd used it earlier to send something to his assistant, and it was still unlocked. He wasn't suspicious. Not really.
But then a notification popped up.
Message from: Unknown
"How's the baby, sweetheart? Must be nice watching Ethan smile at what's mine."
Ethan blinked. His jaw tightened. He opened the thread — most of the messages had been deleted, but that one sat there, clear and sharp like broken glass.
"Laura." His breath caught. "What is this?"
Laura stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her hair damp and wavy. She froze when she saw him with her phone, his eyes locked on the screen.
"Ethan?" she said, voice shaking. "What are you doing?"
He looked up at her, confused and hurt. "Who's sending you this kind of message, Laura? Why are you hiding it?"
Her face drained of color. "I… I don't know. Maybe a prank?"
"A prank?" he repeated, quietly. "Laura, don't lie to me."
She forced a smile. "I'm serious, love. I didn't even see that. Maybe it's spam — you know how numbers get passed around."
Ethan stared at her a moment longer, then stood slowly. He didn't want to believe she was lying. Not now. Not when everything finally felt right between them.
"Okay," he murmured, brushing her cheek. "Just… be careful, alright?"
Laura nodded quickly, wrapping her arms around him. But her heart was thundering in her chest. Because she knew exactly who that message was from.
The next morning, her nightmare arrived.
A large brown envelope was slid under the front door, marked only with her name. Laura picked it up, confused — until she opened it.
Inside was a USB stick and a note written in Liam's scrawl.
"You forget easily, but I keep records. You want to keep playing happy wife? Better start playing smart."
Her hands shook as she plugged it into her laptop in her private dressing room. The video loaded instantly — grainy, but clear enough. That night. The one she thought was buried. Her body, Liam's voice, the movement, the moans.
She clapped a hand over her mouth and stumbled back.
Her baby. Her marriage. Her name.
All would be gone.
She fell to her knees, crying silently.
An hour later, Laura's mother, Danny, was in the room. She'd driven over as soon as Laura called, still in her silk scarf and gold-tipped flats.
She sat quietly as her daughter explained everything — the threats, the sex, the tape.
"Jesus, Laura," she whispered, hand to her chest. "How could you let this happen?"
"I didn't mean to! I swear it was just… it happened, and then everything spiraled—"
Danny interrupted, voice firm. "Listen to me. You can never, ever tell Ethan about this. Do you understand?"
Laura blinked
"He will leave you. Not just leave — you'll be disgraced. The Richardsons won't protect you. Steph won't. And your father… he's finally respected in that circle now. You want to undo all that?"
Laura wiped her tears. "But Liam is threatening me."
Danny's eyes darkened. "Then you learn how to fight back. Be smarter. Don't let him break what you've built."
Unbeknownst to them, a shadow stood near the stairs.
Faye had walked in earlier, calling out softly, but the door was ajar and the conversation too strange to ignore. She stayed just out of sight until Danny stormed out minutes later.
Then she knocked gently and stepped in.
Laura jumped, startled. "Faye…"
Faye walked in slowly, eyes narrowed. "I was here. I heard everything."
Laura paled. "You what?"
"All of it — Liam, the tape, the baby…"
Laura rushed toward her, panic in her voice. "Please, you can't tell anyone. Please, Faye. Don't ruin me."
Faye crossed her arms. "You need to tell Ethan."
"No!"
"Laura—"
"No!" she snapped, tears fresh. "I've worked too hard for this. Ethan loves me now, we're finally happy, he's finally mine. You want me to throw it all away because of one mistake?!"
Faye stared at her, stunned. "One mistake? You've been sleeping with Ethan's cousin. Carrying his child. Lying to the only man who's been good to you."
Laura's voice cracked. "I love Ethan. That's all that matters."
Faye's face softened, but she shook her head. "You keep saying you love him, but love without truth? That's poison, Laura."
Laura turned away. "You don't understand. You've never been loved like this. You've never had everything you dreamed of so close."
"I understand this—" Faye said, voice low, "—if Ethan ever finds out from someone else, it'll destroy him. And you."
Laura's lips trembled. "That's why he must never find out. Ever."
Meanwhile, Liam was relentless.
More messages. More threats. Some subtle, some not.
And now, he had Anna backing him.
He sat in her living room, arms folded, watching her pour tea like she wasn't helping him destroy his cousin's life.
"You're sure you want to go this far?" Anna asked coolly.
Liam smiled bitterly. "He took my place. My company. My girl. This is justice."
Anna sipped. "Then make sure it ends the way we need it to. Not just vengeance — victory."
He leaned back, satisfied. "By the time I'm done… he'll beg me to take it all back."
Anna let out a soft laugh, then leaned in, eyes gleaming. "I have an idea."
Liam turned to her, intrigued. "What kind of idea, Mom?"
Her voice lowered, almost playful. "Why don't we just… get rid of him. For good."
Liam raised a brow. "You mean—kill him?"
She smiled, calm and cold. "Exactly."
A wicked grin spread across Liam's face as he let out a dark chuckle.