Chapter 1: The Night He Chose Wrong
**MY PREGNANT WIFE CALLED ME 17 TIMES WHILE SHE WAS DYING…
I REJECTED EVERY CALL FOR MY MISTRESS, AND MY WORST ENEMY ENDED UP WITH EVERYTHING**
The music was so loud inside the private club in San Pedro Garza García that the walls seemed to shake.
Bottles covered the VIP table.
Neon lights flashed across leather couches.
The air smelled like expensive perfume, tobacco smoke, and mezcal.
And Mateo sat there like a king, drunk on money, attention, and the woman sitting on his lap.
Valeria, his mistress, laughed into his ear while his friends raised their glasses around him.
Then his phone lit up on the glass table.
Wife.
Again.
It was the tenth call in less than thirty minutes.
Valeria rolled her eyes.
"Baby, are you seriously not going to answer?
She's been calling all night.
That sound is getting annoying."
Mateo glanced at the screen and laughed.
A cold, careless laugh.
"Leave her," he said, taking another drink.
"She's just being dramatic."
His friends chuckled.
Mateo leaned back, smug and comfortable.
"You know how women get when they're pregnant.
Emotional about everything.
She probably wants tacos at midnight or wants me to rub her swollen feet."
Valeria smiled.
"So needy."
Mateo grabbed the phone, rejected the call, switched it to airplane mode, and tossed it onto the couch like it meant nothing.
Then he wrapped his arm around Valeria's waist and lifted his glass.
"To my last night of freedom before becoming a father!"
Everyone cheered.
Several miles away, inside a silent mansion in the most exclusive part of the city, his wife was lying at the bottom of a marble staircase.
Camila was eight months pregnant.
She had only gotten up for a glass of water.
One dizzy step.
One missed railing.
One terrible fall.
Now she was on the cold floor, shaking, barely able to breathe, with her phone cracked in her hand.
Her baby was moving strangely.
Her body felt like it was breaking from the inside.
"Mateo…" she whispered.
She called him again.
Rejected.
She called again.
Voicemail.
Tears slid down her face as she tried to move, but pain shot through her so sharply that she almost passed out.
The mansion was huge.
The walls were high.
The security gate was locked.
No ambulance could get inside unless someone opened it.
And Mateo was not coming.
Camila understood something no wife should ever have to understand.
She might d*e in the house he had bought to impress people.
Alone.
Begging for the man who had abandoned her.
With trembling fingers, she opened her contacts.
Her vision blurred.
Then she saw a name she had not called in five years.
Alejandro.
Mateo's former best friend.
The man Mateo hated more than anyone in the world.
The man Mateo had forbidden her to speak to because he could never stand that Alejandro had become richer, more respected, and more powerful than him.
Camila pressed call.
It rang once.
"Camila?" a deep voice answered, shocked and alert.
"Is everything okay?
It's the middle of the night."
"Alejandro…" she sobbed.
"I fell…
the stairs…
there's bl\*\*d…
please help me…
Mateo won't answer…
the baby…"
The silence on the line lasted less than a second.
Then Alejandro's voice exploded.
"CAMILA?!
Where are you?
Stay with me.
I'm coming right now.
I'm bringing my medical team.
Do not close your eyes.
Talk to me, Camila.
Please, keep talking."
But the phone slipped from her hand.
Camila placed one shaking palm over her stomach.
"I'm sorry, my love," she whispered to her unborn child.
Then everything went dark.
And while Mateo was laughing in a club with his mistress…
The man he hated most was already racing toward his mansion with doctors, security, and the power to destroy everything Mateo thought he owned.
By morning, Mateo would learn that rejecting those calls was the most expensive mistake of his life.
---
Camila called 17 times.
Mateo rejected every single one.
Now Alejandro knows everything — and Mateo has no idea what is coming.
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