Yasmin has survived five years of Cole Martinez’s cruelty—his icy contempt, his mother’s vicious words, and the humiliation of watching him parade his mistress around town. She’s learned to stay quiet, stay small, and never fight back. But two pink lines on a pregnancy test change everything. Cole made it clear he never wants children. If he finds out about the baby, Yasmin knows exactly what he’ll demand. Yet for the first time in years, she feels something stirring inside her that’s stronger than fear—a fierce, desperate love for the tiny life growing within her. Now she faces an impossible choice: stay silent and risk everything when her secret shows, or find the courage to run from the only life she’s known. In Cole’s world, defiance comes with a price. But some things are worth fighting for, even if it means losing everything else. Can Yasmin break free before it’s too late, or will her secret become the final chain that binds her forever?
View MoreYasmin
I stared at the pregnancy test in my trembling hands, the stark lines glaring back at me like an accusation. My lips parted in disbelief as my mind raced, trying to pinpoint the exact moment I had missed my pills. I had been so careful—or at least, I thought I had. Yet here it was: undeniable proof that I was carrying the child of a man who wanted nothing from me beyond my body. “My goodness...” I whispered, my voice barely audible. What had I done to deserve this? What had I done to turn what was meant to be a bundle of joy into a burden of dread? Cole had made it crystal clear: he never wanted a child from me. The daily pills, the countless doctor visits - everything had been orchestrated to ensure I wouldn’t become pregnant. And yet, here I was, staring at a future I hadn’t planned for. And now, I was faced with the impossible task of telling him. How could I explain that his wife, the daughter of a poor café owner, was carrying his child? Leaning back against the cold bathroom wall, I buried my face in my hands, the plastic test still clutched tightly between my fingers. “What am I going to do?” I muttered. Tears wouldn’t come. I was too exhausted to cry. His mother had seen to that, with her endless disdain and relentless criticisms. Cole Martinez. Even thinking his name felt like summoning a storm. Cold, distant, impossibly cruel. He was the kind of man who could make you feel insignificant with a single glance. For five long years, I had endured his hatred, his mother’s contempt, and the humiliation of being his wife. And now, I faced the grim reality that I was carrying his child. An unwanted child. If only Dad were healthy, I would have fled without looking back. I wouldn't have suffered through this torment. But his life depended on me staying. If I left, they'd demand repayment for every penny spent on his treatment. And worse - Dad would die. The very thought made me ill. Diabetes wasn't something to take lightly. So I stayed - not from choice, but necessity. Being the despised wife of the Martinez family was the only way to cover the mounting expenses. A soft chime interrupted my thoughts. I glanced at my phone on the counter, my heart sinking as I read the headline notification: “Cole Martinez spotted with Sarah Lolthammer at tonight’s gala.” Of course, she was there. She always was. While I bore the title of wife, Sarah was the one he chose to parade at events. She was his public companion, while I remained in the shadows - a decoration, nothing more. I should have been used to it by now. But every time, it hurts. Cole had never loved me, not even for a second. Yet here I was, allowing myself to think about him. With a shaky breath, I set the phone down and placed the pregnancy test at the back of the cabinet under the sink. No one could find it there, especially not him. But who was I kidding? I might never find the courage to tell him. And yet, a foolish part of me wondered if he might be excited about the news. Against all reason, I couldn’t help but hope. “You know Cole would never be excited. He sees you as a gold digger and nothing more!” my instincts hissed, trashing every foolish thought of him being happy. As I stepped out of the bathroom, the sound of the doorknob twisting made my heart leap. My pulse quickened. He was home. Panicking, I darted back into the bathroom and shoved the test deeper into the cabinet. Then I rushed to the bed, lying down and feigning sleep, my heart pounding so loudly I was certain he’d hear it. The door creaked open, and his presence filled the room like a suffocating fog. Even with my eyes closed, I felt the weight of his gaze. His footsteps grew closer. I wanted to peek, but couldn’t bring myself to. The bed dipped under his weight as he leaned over me, his scent overwhelming my senses. “You’re terrible at pretending,” he said coldly. I flinched inwardly, but kept still. “Don’t make me force those eyes open,” he warned, his voice dripping with authority. His fingers brushed my thigh, sending a shiver through me despite myself. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes, meeting his icy stare in the dim light. “I was—” Before I could finish, his hand slid up, cupping my breast with a firm, possessive grip. My breath hitched. I bit down on my lip, desperate to suppress the treacherous moan that threatened to escape. His lips curled into a smirk, as though he enjoyed my struggle. “You were about to be disobedient, Yasmin,” he said, unapologetic. “And you know how dangerous that is.” “I didn’t mean to,” I whispered shakily. “I need to get up early for your mother’s birthday preparations—” He cut me off with a low, humorless chuckle. “And you think I care?” His words were sharp, each syllable laced with contempt. “You’re mine, Yasmin. Your job is to obey. To give in, whether you like it or not. Have you forgotten?” How could I? He seized every opportunity to remind me of who I was and how I had voluntarily thrown myself at his service. The weight of his words crushed me, but I refused to let the tears spill. Not in front of him. Closing my eyes, I willed myself to disappear. But my treacherous mind refused to comply, instead pulling me back to the sensation of his rough, yet strangely intoxicating, touch. I had loved him once, my heart reminded me. But his actions now filled me with disgust. There was a time when I had foolishly hoped that my obedience would change him. My teeth sank harder into my lip as my mind flashed back to the day we got married. Back then, I had believed in fairy tales and happily-ever-after. I thought love could fix anything. How naive I had been. His father had arranged our marriage, convinced that I could somehow "save" Cole from his demons. He noticed my hesitation but then delivered a blow I couldn't ignore. "Your father's ill, isn't he? Diabetes isn't something you can manage with the little money you make from that struggling café shop." And that was it. But instead of healing him, I had become the target of Cole's rage. Every cruel word, every cold touch, all served to remind me of how much he despised me. How much marrying me against his will had cost him. I had endured every pain, every ounce of his anger, because I needed their fucking money to save my father. The room was silent except for the sound of my shallow breathing. His lips brushed against my ear. “You belong to me, Yasmin. Never forget that,” he murmured. “Please…” I breathed shakily. “Go easy on me tonight.” “Easy isn’t my style, Yasmin. You should know that by now.” Without warning, he pushed two fingers inside me. “Ahh, Cole!” His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. He pressed his fingers deeper, his tone sharp. “What did you just call me?” “I—I’m sorry, Master,” I stammered. A knock on the door interrupted the moment. Cole groaned, pulling his fingers away. He wiped them clean before getting up, tying his robe with practiced precision. “Mr. Martinez,” came Victor’s voice from the other side. “Miss Lolthammer needs you.” Sarah. She was here? The thought of her being in our home made me feel sick. Cole turned to me, his face devoid of emotion. “Meet me at the hotel at nine tomorrow,” he said flatly. “You brought her here?” I couldn’t keep the hurt from spilling into my voice. He raised a brow, his lips twitching into a cruel smirk. “You’re just a wife, Yasmin. Know your place.” And with that, he shut the door, leaving me alone in the dark once again.Cole“I’m sorry, but the news circulating the internet has already done more harm to the Martinez Group than we can ignore. It’s bad enough that the public had no idea who your wife was until after her death.” Mr. Williams, one of the men sitting at the table, spoke up. His voice was sharp, and his anger was palpable.Philip tried to calm them down, saying the situation had already been handled. The news had been pulled down, but that didn’t seem to matter to anyone in the room.The boardroom was erupting in chaos, everyone yelling about how this wasn’t what any of them had bargained for.I sat there, silent, as the stakeholders suggested that I step down to let my brother take over the company. Apparently, my health was too much of a risk for them.The constant headlines about my bar-hopping in Hawaii had stained my reputation far more than they were willing to accept.And now, without a wife by my side, they were sure I was no longer fit to hold the seat. I’d been in this position b
Mirela“Nothing yet?” I asked the man in the black face cap who had been keeping tabs on Arlene and Liam. He nodded, confirming what I already feared. They hadn’t been meeting.I couldn’t help but wonder what had caused the rift between them. They had been so into each other, yet now there seemed to be some invisible wall between them.Had Liam done something to earn her coldness? Or was Arlene just pulling away?“Keep an eye on them,” I ordered. “Call me Fiona on your way out.”“Yes, ma’am.”He left my study, and I was left to ponder the situation in silence.Just as I was about to dig deeper into my thoughts, my phone beeped. It was Louis.I rolled my eyes at the message. To me, he was Louis, the man who had made me squirm and laughed relentlessly for twenty years. But to the world, he was Luis Kodra, the renowned designer from Albania.I had no interest in his fame, but he was useful. He sent me yet another design, this one more extravagant and beautiful.The fabric shimmered on th
Arlene“How do you plan on handling the pregnancy after you give birth?” Art’s voice pierced through the quiet, bringing my thoughts to a screeching halt. “What if your stepmother causes trouble and demands a DNA test?”I froze, my heart dropping into my stomach.How come I never thought of that?A part of me wanted to dismiss the idea, but the reality of it hit me like a wave. I had been so focused on keeping my enemies at bay, on surviving the constant threat of Mirela, that I hadn’t even considered the possibility of her pushing things further.I forced a smile, trying to reassure myself. “Mirela won’t cross that line. She knows better than to challenge me on that front.” But even as the words left my mouth, doubt lingered in my chest.I knew Art had called for a reason, though. So, I took a deep breath and redirected the conversation.“Why did you call me, Art? What’s going on?”She was silent for a moment before answering.“Have you been able to find out who leaked the news of my
ArleneIt’s been five days… five agonizing, intoxicating days since that night with Liam.The scandal about the fake products had finally died down, thanks to the lack of any reliable evidence tracing it back to its true source. I knew exactly who was behind it, Mirela. But without proof, calling her out would be a mistake, one she would twist and use against me.So, I let it go. The moment the antidote was released to the public, the media frenzy started fading, and soon enough, the issue was buried.Now, with only two days left until the launch of Penselvia, my focus had shifted.Earlier today, I had gone to the warehouse to personally inspect the final batch of products. The redesign had been completed, and with Ivana’s face perfectly scripted on the brand, everything looked flawless, better than before. This was my vision coming to life, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled.Everything seemed perfect. Or at least, it should have been.But there was a gnawing void inside me.Five
Mirela“I’m having triplets.”Arlene’s voice rang out, clear and confident.I stopped mid-step, my fingers tightening around the railing as I turned back. Daisy, who had been smug earlier, suddenly faltered. For a brief moment, I saw a flicker of happiness on her face, but when she caught my gaze, she cleared her throat, muttered a barely audible “Congratulations,” and quickly grabbed her bag, leaving the room.Meanwhile, Eric was over the moon. His face lit up with joy, his broad smile stretching from ear to ear. “Triplets?” I echoed, forcing my voice to remain steady.Arlene turned to me, that brilliant, self-assured smile of hers shifting into something mocking. “What’s wrong, Stepmother? You don’t like the sound of that?”I scoffed lightly but masked it with a well-practiced smile. “Becoming a grandmother to three children is what anyone would want to hear.” I tilted my head slightly, studying her. “Congratulations, by the way. But if you’ll excuse me, I have to take this, urgent
Mirela“Fucking idiots…” I muttered under my breath, my eyes glued to the television as I swallowed my breakfast.The news flashing across the screen made my blood boil, and the fact that Arlene sat beside me in complete silence only fueled my irritation.The spy I had placed on Arlene and Liam had reported back, detailing a heated argument between them, one where Arlene had furiously slapped him after seeing some message.The images were clear enough. The slap, Liam helping Arlene change her shoes, the kiss that followed. It was all there. Enough proof to support whatever ridiculous story they were trying to sell. But I knew better. Something was off.The spy had failed to bring me anything truly useful, and now all the news stations were buzzing about how those who faked allergic reactions to the counterfeit products were coming forward to apologize.The whole thing made my stomach churn with disgust. Sarah must be laughing at me right now, calling me a failure.The dining table was
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