Betrayed By Him, Claimed By His Brother

Kayla, a professional psychologist, had just answered a call from one of her clients. She said, "He loves me, doctor."

The client's name is "Jane Doe".

Ignoring Kayla, the woman was lost in her own story. "He didn't love his wife; he would always secretly meet with me and our children."

These words, carrying a morbid sense of victory, fell like stones on Kyra's heart.

Kyra kept her voice steady, "And then?"

A dry, weak laugh came from the speaker. "Doctor, do you think he loves me more?"

Kyra's stomach tightened. She was a professional, trained to remain detached, but a sharp, uncomfortable wave of nausea rose in her throat. Instinctively, she placed her hand on her protruding belly. Seven months pregnant.

"He bought me an apartment downtown," Jane continued, her tone tinged with pride. "He turned down boring business dinners for me. He said his wife was boring both in bed and in life."

Kyra's heart sank painfully, as she thought of her husband, who had been coming home late every day lately. She steered the counseling towards a professional close.

"Jane, our time is up for today. I've already scheduled our next consultation for the same time next week."

"See you then, Doctor." The connection was lost.

Silence filled the room. Kyra pushed back from her desk, taking a deep breath, trying to dispel the client's toxic sense of satisfaction. She walked to the window, overlooking the green expanse of Central Park, but the view did not bring her peace.

Her phone vibrated. The screen displayed: Leah Foster. Her best friend.

Kyra answered the phone with a slight smile. Leah's energy was always a welcome remedy.

"You'd better sit down, darling," Leah said, her voice carrying a secretive whisper.

Kyra laughed, the tension on her shoulder easing slightly. "What's up? Did you find something interesting again?"

"Jordin Rosario." Her husband's old flame.

The name was like a needle, instantly piercing Kyra's sense of ease.

"She's back, Kyra." Leah's voice trailed off. "I swear to God, I saw her pushing a stroller near Lincoln Center."

Kyra's smile froze. The gleaming wooden floor beneath her feet suddenly felt cold. Her fingers gripped her phone tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"Jordin?"

"Kyra? Are you alright?" Leah's tone turned worried. "I know she's a thing of the past for Kieran, but I just... I thought you should know."

Kyra took a breath, forcing herself to sound calm. "I'm fine, Leah. Thank you for telling me. It's all in the past, right?"

But that peace shattered after the call ended.

She walked into the living room, her gaze falling on the wedding photo on the wall. Kieran Padilla, handsome and charming, looked at her with adoring eyes.

He loved her. Jordin was the past. She repeated this to herself like a mantra.

But the word "child" was like a thorn, deeply embedded in her skin. After all, she had heard that the woman had no other partners after her husband, and she was terrified of who the child's father was; she was afraid to know the answer.

Just then, Kieran came home. He was wearing a perfectly tailored Armani suit, and his smile was as warm and gentle as ever.

When he saw her, he immediately came forward and hugged her from behind. His hands gently rested on her pregnant belly.

"How are my two favorite people doing today?" he whispered in her ear in a deep voice, a familiar and intoxicating mix of weariness and love.

Kyra leaned against his chest, his familiar scent temporarily soothing her tense nerves. Her anxiety seemed to subside.

He turned her to face him, his gaze tender, and kissed her forehead. "Sorry, I might be late tonight. There's an urgent project in the office." Once again, it's been like this lately.

Kyra nodded, swallowing the urge to ask Jordin for news. She wouldn't be that kind of wife. That suspicious, insecure wife.

Kieran changed his clothes, gave her another deep and lingering kiss, and then left in a hurry.

Kyra stood alone in the spacious living room. Outside, the lights of New York City began to flicker. The unease she thought had been soothed by her husband's embrace surged back like a cold, relentless tide.