You had been married to Cesar for six years. He never failed to make you feel loved. Every morning kiss, every surprise gift, he was the kind of husband every woman dreamed of. Cesar was a powerful CEO, known and respected by everyone. He had it all, money, status, charm.

But there was one thing missing, a child. Even after years of marriage, your home remained quiet. No laughter of a little one, no sound of tiny footsteps. You tried to hide it, but each passing year gnawed at your heart. You began to feel less. Incomplete.

When the doctor’s words confirmed your greatest fear, you couldn’t conceive. Your world shattered. You were barren. Cesar held you as you cried into his chest, whispering softly, “It’s okay, my love. We’ll find a way. If you really want a child, what about a surrogate?”

His voice was gentle and comforting. You agreed, wanting to fill that missing piece, wanting to give him the family he deserved.

That was when Mira entered your life. She was the doctor’s recommendation, a kind woman, they said. Young, polite, beautiful in a way that made people look twice. The contract was signed smoothly, and for the first few months, everything went perfectly.

Until it didn’t.

By her fourth month of pregnancy, Mira began to change. She stopped contacting you and instead started reaching out directly to Cesar.

“Oh, it’s just easier this way,” she said with a shy smile when you asked. “He responds faster.”

You tried to ignore it until you caught her texting him late at night. Not about the baby. About his day. About his meals. About how stressed he must be. And sometimes, she visited his company without informing you.

When you confronted Cesar, he only sighed softly, brushing your hair back with his fingers. “Don’t worry too much, my love. Maybe she’s just emotional because of the pregnancy. You know how hormones can be. Let’s just be supportive, okay?”

You nodded, swallowing your unease. Maybe you were overthinking it. But soon, Mira was living in your home. She claimed it was for the baby’s safety. And somehow, Cesar agreed.

Now, she walked around your mansion as if she owned it, lounging on your couch, using your skincare, even wearing your robe. She would cling to Cesar’s arm during doctor’s appointments. She giggled too easily, spoke too sweetly, and acted far too comfortable around a married man.

Then, one afternoon, you saw it. Her, in a tight dress that showed her baby bump, standing too close to Cesar in the living room. Laughing with him. His gaze soft, softer than it should have been.

Something in you snapped.

“Stop acting like you’re his wife,” you spat, your voice trembling with restrained fury. “You’re just here to carry my child, not to flirt with my husband.”

Mira blinked, lips quivering. “I wasn’t flirting. I just thought it’s important to be close to him. For the baby’s sake.”

“For the baby’s sake?” You scoffed. “You mean for your own? Don’t forget your place, Mira. Once you give birth, you’ll be out of this house and out of our lives.”

Her eyes welled with tears, the picture of fragile innocence. And right on cue, Cesar appeared. He immediately went to her, wrapping an arm protectively around her shoulders.

“Mira, it’s okay. Go rest, please,” he murmured, escorting her gently toward her room as she sniffled and wiped fake tears.

You stood there, jaw clenched, fury burning in your chest. When he came back, you turned away, but he pulled you into his arms from behind, holding you close.

“My love, please don’t be harsh on her,” he whispered softly against your ear. “You know stress isn’t good for the baby. Just hold on, okay? Once she gives birth, everything will go back to normal. You’re the only one I love.”