1 The day Harrison’s mistress came to destroy me, I was twelve weeks pregnant. In my first life, she threw an envelope of glossy photographs into my face, her painted lips curving into a smirk that was as youthful as it was vicious. “What’s the point of clinging to the title of Mrs. Prescott?” she had purred, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Harrison told me he’s divorcing you. That thing in your belly? It’s just collateral to keep his parents happy until he takes over the board.” My hands had trembled with an uncontrollable, sickening rage. We argued at the top of the stairs, and in a flurry of manicured hands and sharp elbows, she shoved me. Hard. As the cold marble claimed my bones and warmth bloomed between my thighs, I lay paralyzed at the bottom of the grand staircase, listening to her frantic call to Harrison. “Harrison, I didn’t mean to! She slipped, she lost her footing—” A beat of heavy silence from the receiver. Then, his low, measured voice: “Don’t panic. Stay put. I’ll make sure it’s handled cleanly.” When I opened my eyes again, the morning light was pouring across our master bedroom. It was that very same Tuesday. I looked down at my stomach, still flat beneath the silk of my robe. My fingers curled inward, digging into the fabric until my knuckles turned white. Then I picked up my phone and dialed my mother-in-law. “Mom,” I said, letting a faint tremor seep into my voice. “I’m not feeling well today. Could you come over and sit with me for a little while?” Eleanor Prescott arrived thirty minutes later. When the doorbell rang, our housekeeper, Martha, opened the door to reveal Eleanor holding an insulated carrier filled with homemade broths. At fifty-four, Eleanor looked barely late thirties—impeccably tailored, her silver-streaked dark hair swept up, her skin glowing with the quiet discipline of old East Coast money. Walking down Fifth Avenue together, strangers routinely mistook us for sisters rather than mother- and daughter-in-law. The moment she crossed the foyer, she reached for both of my hands. Seeing only the staff around, she frowned. “Where’s Harrison?” “Early meeting at the firm,” I said softly. “He left before seven.” Eleanor’s expression cooled. “You’re in your first trimester, and he’s acting like he’s chained to the office.” I didn’t defend him. In my past life, I had always defended him. I had manufactured excuses for his late nights, his sudden weekend retreats, his phantom board dinners. I had believed every single word that slid out of his handsome mouth. It wasn’t until Hailey Brooks threw those hotel receipts and candid photos in my face that I learned the truth: Harrison wasn’t chained to his desk. He was busy curating diamond tennis bracelets, sitting through private couture fittings, and spending long, secluded weekends in a private cabin in upstate New York. I guided Eleanor gently toward the living room sofa. “Don’t be angry, Mom. His schedule is intense. I understand.” Eleanor unlatched the container, releasing the aroma of slow-simmered, herb-infused chicken broth. “You’re far too accommodating, Paige. Pregnancy takes an immense toll on a woman. If a husband doesn’t know how to cherish his wife during this time, he has no conscience.” She pulled out her phone and dialed Harrison on speaker. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded the second the line connected. “Your wife is carrying your child, and you can’t even spare a morning? I want you home early today. No excuses.” Harrison muttered a tight, dutiful agreement and hung up. Seconds later, my phone vibrated in my palm. Paige, can you stop stirring up drama out of thin air? Can you do anything besides running to my mother like a child? I’m in the middle of closing a deal. Stop sabotaging me. I stared at the screen without answering. A slow, bitter smile touched my lips. Eleanor handed me a delicate porcelain bowl, steam rising between us. “I made this from scratch at dawn. Drink it while it’s warm.” Holding the bowl, my vision blurred slightly. Since the day I married into the Prescott family, Eleanor had treated me with a fierce, protective warmth. She knew I had grown up with distant, neglectful parents, and she had stepped into the void, remembering every holiday, selecting thoughtful gifts, and checking on me with genuine maternal care. When I told her I was expecting, she had cried with joy, keeping Harrison at the family estate for three hours the following evening just to drill him on how to care for me. After lunch, Eleanor insisted I go upstairs to rest. “Go on, lie down for an hour. I’ll read my journal down here.” I nodded obediently. But once inside the master suite, I locked the door, pulled out my phone, and opened the live feed from the living room security camera. At 2:17 PM, the doorbell rang. Eleanor was sitting on the sectional, an architectural magazine resting on her lap. Martha went to answer the door. On the screen, Hailey Brooks stood on the limestone porch. Martha looked at her with mild confusion. “May I help you, miss?” Hailey slipped off her designer sunglasses, peering past Martha into the grand foyer. “I’m here to see Paige.” Hearing the voice, Eleanor set her magazine aside and walked toward the entrance. When Hailey caught sight of Eleanor, she visibly faltered for a fraction of a second. She clearly hadn’t expected “Mrs. Prescott” to look so youthful, so radiant, so completely poised. But the hesitation vanished almost instantly, replaced by a dark, simmering malice. She swept her eyes over Eleanor from head to toe and let out a sharp, derogatory chuckle. “So you’re Paige?” Eleanor’s brow furrowed. Her tone was sharp. “And who are you?” Hailey shoved past Martha without an ounce of hesitation, the sharp clicks of her red-soled heels echoing off the marble floor. “Who am I? Why don’t you ask Harrison?” Eleanor’s face shifted, an arctic chill settling into her features. 2 “Harrison?” Eleanor repeated. Hailey tossed her designer bag onto the silk cushions of the armchair as if she held the deed to the property. “Stop playing dumb. You’re only clinging to him because his parents like you, aren’t you? You think their blessing is going to keep him from divorcing you?” Martha’s face went entirely bloodless. “Miss, you don’t understand—this is—” Eleanor raised a single, commanding hand, silencing the housekeeper instantly. Her eyes locked onto Hailey, her voice dropping into an icy register. “Say what you came here to say. Every single word.” Hailey mistook the composure for defeat. Her smirk widened, dripping with condescension. “What? Scared now? Paige, if you had any dignity left, you’d pack your bags and vacate a position that was never yours to begin with.” She reached into her bag, pulled out a thick envelope of photographs, and slapped it down onto the glass coffee table with theatrical force. The glossy prints scattered across the surface. Harrison kissing her against the hood of his sports car. Harrison holding her on a balcony in the Hamptons. Harrison slipping an arm around her waist as they checked into a boutique hotel in Tribeca. Frame after frame of undeniable betrayal, laid bare right beneath Eleanor’s eyes. Eleanor stared at the photographs. The color drained from her cheeks until she was paper-white. Her fingers twitched slightly at her sides. Hailey folded her arms across her chest, tilting her chin up in triumphant defiance. “Take a good look. Harrison loves me. He told me you’re boring, rigid, and completely frigid—like a decorative vase he was forced to put on display. He says every time he walks through this front door, he feels like he’s suffocating.” She leaned in, her voice dripping poison. “If the Prescott family didn’t demand a daughter-in-law with a clean background to look respectable in the papers, do you honestly think you’d be sitting here?” Eleanor slowly lifted her gaze. “Harrison told you that? Directly?” “Every word,” Hailey sneered. “He told me that as soon as the timing is right, he’s filing for divorce. And that little anchor in your stomach?” She paused, her eyes narrowing into slits of pure venom. “It’s nothing more than a chore his parents pressured him into. You actually think he wants a child with you?” Eleanor stood up so abruptly the crystal vase on the side table rattled. “Say that again.” For a split second, Hailey recoiled, startled by the sheer, suffocating authority radiating from the woman before her. But her arrogance quickly surged back. “What? Did I hit a nerve? Paige, don’t fool yourself into thinking a pregnancy can trap a man like Harrison. He told me this pregnancy happened at the worst possible time. If you’re smart, you’ll schedule an abortion this afternoon, sign the papers, and walk away.” Before the final syllable had fully left Hailey’s mouth, Eleanor’s hand cracked across her face. The slap echoed through the vaulted room like a gunshot. Hailey’s head whipped to the side, stumbling back two steps, her cheek flaring crimson. She stood frozen, stunned into utter silence. Upstairs, I sat in the dim light of the bedroom, staring at my phone. My fingertips were like ice. In my last life, that slap had been meant for me, and those photographs had shattered my world in front of my own eyes. In this life, they had landed squarely in front of Harrison’s mother. His web of polished lies had unraveled, and there was nowhere left for him to hide. Hailey clutched her burning cheek, let out an ear-piercing shriek, and lunged. “You hit me? You crazy bitch, you hit me?!” Eleanor’s voice was lethal, cold enough to freeze water mid-air. “I did. A vulgar, home-wrecking parasite who has the audacity to strut into this house and make demands deserves far worse.” Hailey was completely unhinged now. She tried to charge forward again, but Martha threw herself between them. “Miss! Stop! You cannot put your hands on her!” Hailey shoved Martha into the console table and pointed a shaking finger at Eleanor. “Who the hell do you think you are? You think being Mrs. Prescott makes you untouchable? When Harrison was in my bed last night, he told me just how sick you make him!” 3 Eleanor’s face was dark as thunder. “Go on. Say one more word.” Hailey laughed hysterically. “Did I lie? The second he inherits the Prescott estate, you’re the very first thing he’s kicking to the curb! When that day comes, you and that little bastard inside you can starve on the street for all he cares!” Eleanor’s chest rose and fell sharply with controlled fury. Martha was on the verge of tears, hovering anxiously. “Mrs. Prescott, please, don’t let her upset you—your heart—” Hailey caught the word Mrs. Prescott and sneered even louder, entirely convinced she was addressing Harrison’s wife. “Mrs. Prescott? Enjoy the title while it lasts, darling. It won’t be yours much longer. Harrison was holding me just hours ago, promising that if I behaved, he’d put a ring on my finger.” Eleanor picked up her phone from the table. Hailey moved with predatory speed, snatching the device right out of Eleanor’s hand. “Calling Harrison? What, going to whine and cry? Paige, aren’t you a little old for the helpless victim routine?” She glanced down at the illuminated lock screen, seeing Harrison’s contact entry saved simply as My Son. Hailey let out a loud, mocking bark of laughter. “My Son? That’s what you call him in your contacts? Good God, no wonder Harrison says you’re suffocatingly possessive. What is this, some kind of sick Oedipal roleplay? You actually pretend to be his mother?” Eleanor closed her eyes for a single, terrifying second. When she opened them, all trace of shock was gone. Only a bottomless, glacial fury remained. “Give me my phone.” “No.” Hailey clutched the phone tightly against her chest, pulling a legal document from her bag and slamming it onto the table. “You’re giving me an answer today. Either you sign these uncontested divorce papers right now, or every single one of these photos hits the press by tonight. Let the entire city see how pathetic Paige Prescott really is—dumped and discarded while carrying a baby her husband never wanted.” Eleanor reached out, her fingers steady as she picked up the document. She turned two pages, skimming the terms, and then she let out a low, humorless laugh. It was a sound so sharp and chilling it sent shivers down my spine through the speaker. “Did Harrison send you here with this?” Eleanor asked. Hailey’s eyes flickered with a brief hesitation. “Doesn’t matter who sent me. What matters is that Harrison loves me. Don’t think getting knocked up makes you untouchable. Whether that kid ever sees the light of day is another story entirely.” Eleanor’s arm swung back, and a second slap struck Hailey’s other cheek with blistering force. Hailey went wild. She screamed, throwing her entire weight forward, her manicured nails digging into Eleanor’s arms as she shoved her violently backward. Eleanor, for all her composure, was a woman in her fifties; the force knocked her into the edge of the heavy mahogany coffee table. “Mrs. Prescott!” Martha screamed. A porcelain teacup fell, shattering against the parquet floor into a dozen sharp fragments. Hailey wasn’t done. She lunged again, reaching for Eleanor’s hair with feral desperation. “Who gave you the right to hit me?! You just happened to meet him a few years before I did! Just you wait—once I move in here, you’ll be thrown out like garbage!” Eleanor shoved her back with surprising strength. “In your pathetic dreams.” Hailey stumbled back, her heels catching on the rug. Her gaze suddenly darted behind Eleanor—to the wide, sweeping curve of the marble staircase. In my first life, that was where she had ended everything. Hailey stared at Eleanor, her eyes dark, feral, and calculated. She lowered her voice to a venomous whisper: “Paige… tell me, if you were to take a little tumble down those steps and lose the baby, do you think Harrison would actually be relieved?” Eleanor’s pupils contracted sharply. Hailey lunged forward, her hands aimed squarely at Eleanor’s shoulders to push her toward the drop. Upstairs, I pushed back my chair and stepped out onto the landing. “Mom?” My voice rang out through the vaulted living room, clear, gentle, and perfectly timed. The room froze in an instant. Hailey’s hands hovered in mid-air, inches from Eleanor’s chest. She turned her head slowly, stiffly, looking up toward the balcony where I stood. Her expression transformed in real time—from vicious malice to bewilderment, then to profound, horrifying confusion. “You…” Hailey stammered, her voice cracking. “What did you just call her?” I rested my hand on the banister, walking down the steps one measured pace at a time, wearing an expression of delicate, bewildered innocence. “Mom, what’s going on?” I asked softly. “Who is this woman? Why is she attacking people in our house?” Every drop of blood drained from Hailey’s face, leaving behind a ghastly, hollow gray. 4 Hailey looked at me, then looked back at Eleanor. Her lips twitched uncontrollably. “Mom…?” I reached the bottom of the stairs, immediately stepping to Eleanor’s side to take her arm, my voice filled with urgent concern. “Mom, are you hurt? Did she touch you?” Eleanor took my hand. Her fingers were shaking, cold as marble. She fixed her eyes on Hailey, speaking with brutal, measured clarity: “You thought I was Paige?” Hailey took an involuntary step back, her knees visibly trembling. “No… wait… that’s not…” I turned to Hailey, my brow furrowing in confusion. “Miss, I have no idea who you are. Why did you force your way into our home? Why did you attack my mother-in-law?” The full weight of the situation finally crashed down on Hailey’s shoulders. She had spent the last twenty minutes screaming obscenities, flaunting illicit bedroom photos, demanding an abortion, and threatening to shove someone down the stairs—and she had done it all to Harrison Prescott’s biological mother. The matriarch of the Prescott family had heard every vulgar confession, witnessed every piece of evidence, and endured her physical assault. Eleanor slowly extended an open palm toward Hailey. “My phone.” Hailey reflexively tried to tuck the device behind her back. Eleanor let out a sharp, mocking breath. “You intend to rob me in my own foyer now?” Martha moved instantly, wrenching the phone from Hailey’s limp, terrified grasp and handing it to Eleanor. Eleanor unlocked the screen and dialed Harrison directly. The line rang for several agonizing seconds before Harrison finally answered, his voice thick with irritation: “Mom, I told you, I’m in an executive meeting—” Eleanor didn’t flinch. Her voice was pure frost. “Harrison. You have ten minutes to get here.” A pause on the line. “Mom, what’s going on?” Eleanor looked directly into Hailey’s terrified eyes. “The woman you’ve been keeping on the side just broke into the house with your bedroom photos.” Total, breathless silence swallowed the other end of the line. Hailey’s legs gave out. She dropped to her knees, crawling forward in a desperate attempt to reach the phone. “Harrison! Harrison, listen to me! It’s a mistake!” Eleanor took a step back, her gaze lethal. “Lay another finger on me, and you’ll leave here in handcuffs.” Martha stepped firmly in front of Eleanor, blocking Hailey’s path. I guided Eleanor gently to the sofa. “Mom, please sit down. Breathe. Don’t let this ruin your health.” Eleanor looked at me. Her eyes were rimmed with red, a profound, aching sorrow surfacing beneath her anger. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but swallowed the words down. I knew exactly what she was thinking. She was realizing what would have happened if she hadn’t come over this morning. If Hailey had found me alone. If it had been me standing by the stairs. In my first life, that question had already been answered in blood. I lowered my eyes, my voice barely above a whisper. “Should we call the police?” Hailey’s head snapped up. “No! Don’t call the police!” The arrogance was completely gone, replaced by raw, unadulterated panic. “I just came to talk! I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I swear!” I looked down at her with calm bewilderment. “To talk? You broke into the house, stole my mother-in-law’s phone, and physically shoved her. Martha witnessed every second of it.” Eleanor added coldly, “Martha wasn’t the only one.” Hailey froze. Eleanor pointed toward the discreet black dome recessed in the corner of the vaulted ceiling. “The Prescott estate is fully monitored. Every word you uttered, every move you made, is recorded in high definition.” Hailey collapsed entirely onto the floor, shaking her head in frantic denial. “That’s impossible… Harrison told me… he said the security cameras in this house are always kept turned off…” Eleanor’s eyes narrowed into slits of razor-sharp fury. “He told you that?” Hailey slapped both hands over her mouth, but the truth had already escaped.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “627729”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel
Leave a Reply