Blanche's POV
I walked through the doors of Alexander Villa at exactly the right time.
The full moon hung overhead, marking the peak of my cycle—ovulation day.
Since Carry's birth, my in-laws had made their demands crystal clear: they wanted another grandchild.
Most wives would brush off such pressure, joking about royal bloodlines. But the Jacobs weren't most families. As Oakwood's richest dynasty, their billion-dollar legacy required a male heir.
I found Zain already waiting in our bedroom, fresh from his shower. No greeting, no conversation—we got straight to the point.
A few minutes passed before he disappeared into the bathroom.
When he emerged, I hadn't moved from the bed. He pulled on his clothes with his back turned, throwing words over his shoulder like spare change. "Take the test when it's time. Call if it's positive."
Years of marriage, and he'd never given me more than the bare minimum. Our union existed only in legal documents while Zain flaunted his affair with complete openness.
I'd spent countless sleepless hours scrolling through his social media, following every digital trail until I discovered her account. Since then, I checked it obsessively, unable to stop myself from reopening old wounds.
Before this second-child scheme, I barely saw Zain in person. I tracked my husband's life through his mistress's posts: fancy dinners, luxury trips, birthday parties. Now we met precisely once each cycle.
I knew Zain was anxious to leave, so I stood quickly. "Hold on," I said, my voice breaking slightly. "We need to discuss something." My fists tightened as I stared at his rigid back.
Zain turned slowly, his expression frozen in cold detachment. "Discuss what?" The words cut through the air like shards of ice.
I dropped my voice to barely a whisper. "I want us to try," I begged, though I suspected it was already too late. Still, I had to attempt it. I'd invested too much in this marriage, in our family.
Carry deserved parents who didn't fail her.
Zain showed zero response. I couldn't determine whether he hadn't heard me or was choosing to ignore my words entirely. He finished with his shirt buttons, snapped his watch into place, and moved toward the door without acknowledgment.
This time, I remained beside the bed. No desperate embraces. No begging him to stay. Those old patterns had finally died.
Just as Zain reached for the handle, my composure crumbled completely. "You visit Alexander Villa once each cycle," I shouted, my voice splintering. "No phone calls. No shared meals. We're total strangers. Tell me, Zain—what kind of marriage is this supposed to be?"
Zain paused, turning just enough to catch my eyes. His remained bone dry while mine flooded over. "When you're pregnant with my son," he stated flatly, "I'll come home." The door shut with a final click behind him.
I stayed motionless. For the first time, I let him leave without a fight.
I had invested everything I had in this marriage.
Carry's birth had nearly claimed my life, with doctors issuing multiple emergency alerts during my amniotic fluid embolism. Even so, I'd been prepared to face death again for a son. Now, alone in our vacant bedroom, I began questioning whether any of this sacrifice held meaning.
After my shower, I instinctively reached for my phone and opened the video app. My "Frequently Viewed" list contained only one account: Vins Hub, with its bright, smiling profile photo.
A fresh post had appeared just moments earlier. The video showed two silhouettes beneath a street lamp, fingers intertwined, wearing identical bracelets.
The caption read: Two shadows under the light. One belongs to me. The other belongs to me too.
My heart twisted, but gently this time. Where a storm once raged, only small waves remained.
Maybe I'd finally grown used to the pain.
These encounters always concluded identically—with Zain racing off to his other woman.
Yet when the hurt subsided, I held onto one truth. As long as Zain required me to produce his heir, nobody could steal my position as Mrs. Jacob. But this empty marriage was poison I had to swallow every single day.
Some time later, on a cold Tuesday night, I burst into Alexander Villa, the warm pregnancy test report crushed in my damp palm. My pulse raced—not from running, but from those two dark lines that meant everything had changed. Tonight, I finally had something worth sharing.
As I entered the living room, my mother-in-law's cutting voice sliced through the silence, stopping me cold in the entrance. "Zain, you're at the prime of your life," Ophelia Barth declared. "Years married with just one daughter. Seeing your wife once monthly? How do you expect her to conceive? If this isn't working, let your girlfriend try instead. Any boy carrying Jacob blood will suffice."
Zain rejected her suggestion immediately. "That won't happen."
I stepped backward, melting into the shadows. For one foolish moment, my heart lifted because Zain seemed to be defending me. After all, I was still his legal wife, despite his betrayals. But then his tone became detached and clinical. "Do you remember her embolism during Carry's delivery?"
Ophelia's expression soured. "And who invited this curse into our family? The Jacobs never faced such disgrace before." Her voice climbed to an ear-piercing shriek. "Other women deliver babies effortlessly. But our precious Blanche? One birth and we're the neighborhood gossip for weeks. Absolutely humiliating!"
Zain completely dismissed his mother's rant. Instead, he continued explaining, "Pregnancy is risky. Blanche has survived it once already. She can manage the danger. But Joanna is still young. I won't expose her to that threat."
I remained frozen outside the doorway, shock running through me like lightning. I felt devastated, but no tears would fall.
Despite knowing Zain had cheated and our marriage lay in ruins, I'd still nursed the foolish fantasy that a second baby might anchor him to me, that bearing the Jacob name would shield me somehow.
Now the truth hit me, brutal and unforgiving.
To Zain, I was nothing more than a vessel for his son. He'd erased how I'd spiraled into darkness after Carry's birth, how blood made me shake uncontrollably, how doctors had battled to save my life. He worried about his mistress's safety in childbirth while forgetting that my own risk was infinitely greater.
The conversation inside grew muffled and distant. I smiled bitterly. I'd nearly died delivering the Jacobs a daughter, yet Zain scattered his betrayals like confetti. Gripping the pregnancy report, I realized it might be time to finish this charade.
Today was our scheduled conception appointment, but the routine now felt meaningless. Love hadn't faded slowly—it had shattered in one decisive moment. Right now, there was no reason to keep the child growing inside me. If nobody else valued my life, at least I could value it myself.
As I turned to go, our housekeeper Cherry Hank spotted me. "Mrs. Jacob, you're home early?"
I manufactured a smile, thinking that perhaps today was finally the right day to bring up divorce.