My Husband Chose His Mistress, So I Let Him Lose Everything

Sophia’s Pov “Admit what you’ve done, or watch your bastard daughter die!” The words hit like a bullet to the spine. I stared at the open ramp of the private jet, heart pounding, breath caught in my throat. There she was—Ariella—my baby girl. Clutched in Lorenzo’s arms, her tiny chest rising in short, panicked gasps. Her oxygen mask was gone. Her lips were already turning blue. Her little hands curled, clawing at the air like she was trying to breathe in the sky. “No… no… Lorenzo, please—she needs the oxygen!” I choked, my throat closing up. He stood just feet from the edge of the hatch, calm and detached, like he wasn’t dangling a six-year-old over a crocodile-infested river thousands of feet below. “Nine minutes,” he said. I dropped to my knees. My fingers trembled against the cold floor of the aircraft as I looked up at him—at the man who used to cradle me like I was made of glass. His face was now made of stone. Not a flicker of mercy. He used to promise me the world. Now he promised to rip my heart out of it. “Please, Lorenzo, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sobbed. “You kidnapped Renata!” he thundered. Her name hit harder than a slap. Of course, it had to be about her. Renata. The woman who’d dug her claws into his bed and his heart. His mistress, his obsession—the one who poisoned my home. “I didn’t,” I whispered, voice cracking. “I swear to you—I didn’t touch her.” He gave me a chilly smile, making my blood freeze. “Eight minutes. Tell me where Renata is!” “She’s your daughter too!” I screamed, desperation clawing at my lungs. That’s when he laughed like it was a joke. “She’s not mine,” he said, voice like venom. “And I’ve got the DNA test to prove it. You’re such a filthy whore, you don’t even know who her father is.” My eyes snapped to Ariella. Her lips were purple. Her chest stuttered, struggling to rise. Her legs kicked weakly. Her fingers reached for the oxygen mask swinging in his other hand. I dropped lower—onto my knees, forehead nearly to the floor. My voice trembled. “I swear I don't know where Renata is. Please, just… save my daughter,” I cried, barely able to breathe. “Please…” Lorenzo moved then. Stepped forward and grabbed my arm in a vice grip, jerking me upright. “You are pathetic and a terrible liar,” he spat. And then the slap landed. Blinding and sharp. My vision burst into stars. My left ear rang, then went numb. “There’s enough evidence to bury you in concrete,” he hissed. I looked up at him, my skin burning, my soul barely holding together. “You were the last person Renata texted,” he continued. “The hotel camera footage shows someone in your jacket dragging her by the wrist. Her bracelet? Found near your bedroom. Her blood? On a scarf in your closet.” He stepped closer, his face inches from mine. “There’s a threatening voice note from you a few hours before she went missing!” I shook my head violently, tears spilling fast. “I didn’t—none of that’s true—I didn’t even see her—” “Seven minutes.” ”Mommy!” Ariella whimpered. The sound gutted me. I looked at her, struggling in his grip, the blue deepening around her mouth, and the oxygen mask just out of reach. She was wearing the little pink dress he bought her—back when he still called her princess. “She’s not mine,” he muttered again, eyes dark with fury. “She looks nothing like me. Renata showed me the real test. The one you switched. She’s a bastard just like her whore mother.” I let out a broken sob and sank lower. This couldn’t be happening. I remembered the day I surprised him with plane tickets for our anniversary. A trip to Japan. I planned every detail. The same hotel from our honeymoon. A private chef. The garden suite with the view of Mount Fuji. I spent two months organizing it. But he never showed up. I waited in that dress all night. When I called the airline, they told me the tickets had already been used. He took Renata. I remembered Ariella, two weeks later, standing in front of the door in her tiny Disneyland princess dress, waiting. She was so excited—he’d promised. He never came. I spent the evening wiping her tears and hiding mine. Lorenzo didn’t call. He was with her again. He used to love me. No—he used to worship me. He once sat beside my hospital bed for two weeks after I got hit by a car. The cold and ruthless mafia Don who showed no mercy to anyone had once begged for mine. He proposed. Apologized publicly. Promised me the world. For a year, he pursued me with relentless devotion. I refused him at first. I didn’t want the bloodstained world of the Mafia. But he swore he’d change—promised to leave it all behind. He saved me once, too. Outside the city, when two men tried to drag me into a van… Lorenzo arrived and nearly killed them with his bare hands. As an orphan, I’d never had anyone. But Lorenzo? He became everything. He gave me luxury, security, and love. Our wedding was a fairytale. And when I got pregnant, he treated me like I was made of porcelain. When the doctors diagnosed Ariella of having a weak heart and needing constant oxygen he’d held us both and consoled us. “I’ll never let anything happen to Ariella,” he once told me. And for a time, he kept that promise. Until Renata arrived. She didn’t just seduce him. She destroyed me piece by piece. She faked DNA results. Told him Ariella wasn’t his. She doctored messages—made it look like I was feeding information to his enemies. She even forged documents blaming me for the death of Lorenzo’s younger brother. And somehow… somehow, he believed her. He didn’t divorce me. No—he vowed to ruin me. I remember our last anniversary. He gave me a pearl necklace. I thought it was an apology. I thought he’d finally seen the truth. But when he clasped it around my neck, he pulled until it cut my skin. “You’ll pay with blood for every humiliation, Sophia,” he whispered. “You and your bastard daughter.” He locked me outside that night—bleeding and crying. And while I shivered against the cold tile, I heard him and Renata on the patio as they had sex. He made sure I could hear every breath. Every moan. Every reminder that I was nothing. By the time I realized Ariella was struggling to breathe inside, it was too late. She was rushed to the hospital, barely alive. She’s been on oxygen ever since. Because he was too busy punishing me to notice our daughter was dying. The sound of a phone rang through the cockpit. One of his men answered, then passed it to him. Lorenzo pressed it to his ear. His expression froze. His grip around Ariella tightened. Then his jaw clenched. His entire body began to tremble. “She’s been found, Boss,” the voice on the other end said. “In the trunk of Sophia’s old car. She almost died of suffocation.” His eyes slowly lifted to mine. They were filled with pure rage. “You put her in that trunk,” he said quietly. “You tried to kill her. Now I’ll return the favor.” “Lorenzo, no—NO! Please! I didn’t—” He stepped toward the open ramp and slammed it shut. “You’re a filthy liar!” he hissed at me then turned to his men, “Land this jet!” The plane touched down with a screech of wheels and a scream trapped in my throat. Lorenzo didn’t even look at us as he stepped over Ariella’s trembling body. He crushed her oxygen mask beneath his shoe like it was made of plastic and not her lifeline. He walked out onto the tarmac—toward a waiting car. “I’m going to rescue Renata, have an apology waiting for her by the time I get back,” he stated coldly. I grabbed my daughter, pressed her close, and ran to my car. With shaky fingers, I started the car and drove to the hospital. “Hang in there baby,” I said, whimpering as I stared at her blue lips. I grabbed my phone and dialed a number. My fingers were shaking so hard I almost dropped the phone. “Sophia, what’s wrong?” a worried voice asked on the other end of the line. “Grandpa, I need your help,” I said in a shaky voice. Six months ago, I saved a man who almost collapsed on the highway. Later, the man traced me using the beauty mark on my cheeks and found out I was his granddaughter. He asked me to return and claim my inheritance but I refused. Back then Lorenzo hadn't gotten this bad, he was with Renata but he told me she was just a fling, he'd get over it. Other men in the mafia had mistresses. “You’re the one I love,” Lorenzo would always say. And like a fool I believed him. Instead of going home I had asked my grandfather to help me boost my husband’s company. But after what he's pulled today, it’s very clear he's not the man I married again. “Ask anything, Sophia, I’ll do it,” my grandfather said. “I need to cancel our identities,” I whispered. “Mine and my daughter’s. I want us erased. That’s the condition I have to return and inherit the family’s properties.” There was a pause. “It’ll be done in seven days.” I ended the call and looked down at my little girl in the car. Her lips were pale. Her body weak. I kissed her forehead and whispered into her hair, “Seven more days, baby. Seven days… and our nightmare ends.”