Hijacking My Own Murder to Make Him Grieve

Maeve's POV

I had been Lucan Ferretti's wife for five years. I had also been the woman who took a bullet meant for him.

Lucan was now the head of the Ferretti family, the most feared name in the city. I was the public face beside him, the quiet wife who smiled at charity dinners and knew which men at the table had killed for the family.

For four years, I had tried to give him a child. Four years of injections, procedures, failed transfers, and doctors who kept saying, "One more attempt."

Yesterday, a blood test had finally given me an answer.

Seven weeks pregnant.

I locked the report in my bedside drawer. I wanted to tell Lucan on our anniversary, when he had no meeting to rush to and no reason to look away.

That morning, I was reviewing accounts for the Ferretti charitable foundation. It was work I understood. Numbers did not lie unless someone taught them how.

One account did.

For two years, money had been sent every month to a private medical provider outside the city. The payments were large, regular, and approved through Lucan's personal authorization code. The listed beneficiary was Violetta Sarelli.

I knew the name. Violetta had grown up with Lucan. They had attended the same schools, gone to the same parties, and disappeared from each other's lives after Lucan married me.

At least, that was what I had been told.

I called Ines Calder, my closest friend and the only person in the family security department I trusted.

"Ines, I need a discreet check on an address," I said. "No official systems. No Ferretti logins."

"Send it."

I forwarded the account details. Ines called back a short while later.

"The payments go to a private estate near Lake Orsa," she said. "Violetta lives there."

"Alone?"

There was a pause.

"No. Two infants are registered at the property. Both have medical coverage through Lucan's account."

I kept my eyes on the spreadsheet. "Are they his?"

"I don't have proof yet."

"You will."

Lucan left the house that evening saying he had a problem at one of the docks. He kissed my cheek, told me to eat, and promised to be home before midnight. I waited until his car turned onto the main road, then took another vehicle from the garage.

The estate was hidden behind a stone wall and a line of cypress trees. I parked two streets away and walked the rest of the distance. Lucan's car stood outside the side entrance.

Through a gap in the hedge, I watched him step out. He carried no weapon. No phone. Just a black medical bag.

The door opened before he reached it. Violetta stood there in a pale sweater, one baby resting against her shoulder. The other cried from somewhere inside the house.

Lucan took the child from her without hesitation. He adjusted the infant's blanket, checked the tiny monitor clipped to the baby's clothes, and pressed two fingers against its chest. His movements were practiced. Gentle. Familiar.

I had never seen him hold anything that way.

Not even me, after the surgery.

Violetta watched him with a smile that belonged in a family photograph. I stepped back before either of them could see me.

When I returned home, Lucan was already in the kitchen. He had changed into a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A pot simmered on the stove.

"You're late," he said.

"I had foundation work."

He crossed the room and touched my forehead. "You look tired."

"I'm fine."

He filled a bowl and set it in front of me. "Eat. The doctor said your iron was low."

I stared at the soup. I wanted to ask how long he had been visiting Violetta. I wanted to ask if the twins had his eyes, his temper, his name.

Instead, I lifted the spoon.

Lucan sat opposite me. "The anniversary is in three days. I arranged something special."

"What kind of special?"

"You'll see."

He smiled as if we still had secrets that belonged only to us.

I put the spoon down. "If we had a child, would you tell your family immediately?"

His expression changed so quickly I almost missed it.

"What brought that on?"

"Answer me."

Lucan leaned back. "The family doesn't need to know everything the moment it happens."

"That isn't what I asked."

"Maeve." His voice softened. "Don't put pressure on yourself. We can talk about children when your health is stable."

My hand moved beneath the table, covering the place where the pregnancy test rested inside my coat pocket. He knew I had been at the clinic. He knew something had changed. He just didn't ask.

That night, Ines came to the house through the service entrance. She carried a tablet and looked pale.

"I found the estate's medical records," she said. "The twins are boys. Their insurance lists Lucan as the biological father."

I looked at the screen. Two birth certificates. Two identical gray eyes in the attached photographs.

"How long?" I asked.

"Almost a year."

The room seemed to narrow around me.

Ines swallowed. "There's more. I intercepted a message from Violetta's phone. It was sent to a contract killer."

I took the tablet. The message was short.

Make sure Maeve Ferretti dies the day before the anniversary. It has to look like retaliation from the Ferretti's enemies.

I read it twice. Then I handed the tablet back.

Ines's voice dropped. "We can go to the police. Or I can move you tonight."

I looked toward the hallway, where Lucan was sleeping behind a locked door. I thought of the bullet scar under my ribs. The soup on the stove. The two babies in the lakeside estate. The child growing quietly inside me.

I turned back to Ines.

"Let her think she succeeded."

Ines went still.

I picked up my phone and opened the anniversary calendar.

"Let her watch me die."