Chapter 25: Enough!!

The faint creak of Cynthia's bedroom door breaking its silence drew her attention away from the bowl of soup cradled in her hands. Her eyes darted to the doorway just as it swung open, revealing Megan first. She entered with an unhurried grace, a faint smile curling at the edges of her lips. Carlos followed closely, his towering presence filling the room as he leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed. His aura was overwhelming, commanding respect without effort, and his eyes scanned the room with a quiet menace.

Cynthia placed her bowl carefully on the nightstand, her sharp eyes narrowing. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she leaned back against the headboard.

Megan's smile widened, though it lacked warmth. She settled into the couch opposite Cynthia’s bed, smoothing out her dress as if she had all the time in the world. “This isn’t a pleasure visit,” she replied, her voice calm but laced with an edge that hinted at something deeper.

Cynthia arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a mocking smirk. “Oh, really? Then what’s this? An ambush?”

Megan’s eyes darkened as she crossed her legs, leaning back with an air of quiet authority. “Why didn’t you come when I summoned you?” she demanded, her tone sharp and direct.

Cynthia chuckled softly, the sound filled with disdain. She leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees. “Because,” she said, her voice deliberate and clipped, “I don’t work for you.”

Megan’s jaw tightened, but her expression remained composed. “You fool,” she hissed, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “You’ve always seen yourself as better than me. But I’m here to tell you the tables have turned.”

Cynthia leaned back, her smirk deepening. “Oh, is that so?” she said, feigning interest as she reached for her bowl again.

Her fingers wrapped around the porcelain, and she lifted the spoon to her lips, but her gaze flicked toward Carlos. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, but his presence was suffocating. His silence weighed heavily on the room.

“Won’t you say anything?” Cynthia asked, her voice sharper now, tinged with irritation and unease.

Carlos straightened, pushing off the doorframe with a slow, deliberate movement. His footsteps were heavy against the hardwood as he approached, his gaze never leaving Cynthia. “Keep quiet and listen to what Megan has to say,” he commanded, his voice deep and cold.

The authority in his tone left no room for argument. Cynthia’s grip on the bowl faltered for a moment before she set it back on the nightstand, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

Megan rose from the couch with deliberate slowness, her movements calculated. She walked to Carlos’s side, her head held high, her eyes locked onto Cynthia’s. Her voice was steady, almost casual, as she spoke the words that shattered the air between them.

“I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Cynthia’s mouth fell open slightly, her eyes wide as she stared at Megan, struggling to process the revelation. “Are you serious?” she finally asked, her voice rising with a mixture of shock and... happiness?

Megan said nothing, her expression unreadable.

“That’s amazing!” Cynthia exclaimed, rising to her feet. Her earlier irritation melted away, replaced by a genuine smile. “We should celebrate!” she said, stepping toward Megan, her arms outstretched in a gesture of sisterly affection.

But before her hands could reach Megan, she was shoved backward with a force that sent her sprawling to the floor. The impact was harsh, the sound of her body hitting the floor reverberating through the room.

“Don’t touch me!” Megan snapped, her voice sharp and commanding. She loomed over Cynthia, her eyes blazing with fury.

Cynthia stared up at her, shock and confusion etched across her face. “Megan, what—”

“This isn’t good news for you,” Megan interrupted, her voice dripping with contempt. “This is your nightmare.” She leaned down slightly, her tone dropping to a venomous whisper. “From now on, you'll be nothing but a maid in this house. I’ve replaced you— fully and completely.”

Cynthia’s breath hitched, her mind racing to process the words. “W-what?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Yes— you heard me right,” Megan said, straightening up. She turned to Carlos, her expression softening slightly, as if seeking his validation.

Carlos met her gaze briefly before shifting his attention back to Cynthia. His voice was calm, almost detached, as he addressed her. “Maybe,” he said, his tone measured, “if you prove yourself useful like your sister, you might— might— regain your position as my wife.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “But until then, tread carefully.”

Cynthia’s lips trembled, her eyes darting between Carlos and Megan. “Carlos, you can’t—”

Carlos raised a hand, silencing her. “Enough,” he said, his tone final.