My Husband Chose Her Dogs Over Me

Chapter 5

Franco knew something was wrong the moment he stepped inside.

The living room wall, once covered with family photos, now stared back at him—blank. A cold, hollow feeling spread through his chest, as if someone had reached in and torn out a piece of him.

His pulse spiked. Keys in hand, he bolted for the hospital.

"Neonatal ward," he demanded at the front desk. "Twins. Mother's name—Mara Davidson."

The nurse hesitated before speaking. "Dr. Davidson... your twins didn't survive the birth. It was a complicated delivery. That was days ago."

Franco staggered back, hitting the wall behind him. His voice shook as he asked again, but the answer didn't change.

The nurse added quietly, "And your older son... he was in an accident earlier this week. He didn't make it either. You really didn't know?"

Franco's throat tightened like a vice. "What?" His voice cracked. "You're telling me... all my kids... are gone?"

The nurse's expression turned icy. "Yes. And from what I've heard, it's your fault."

For a second, Franco almost laughed—a dry, broken sound. "This is a joke, right? Mara put you up to this. She's pissed at me, so she's pulling some twisted prank—"

"Take me to see them," he snapped. "Enough games."

The nurse scoffed, gripping her clipboard. "You couldn't even be bothered to show up for your wife's C-section. Too busy playing hero for someone else's dog. Now that she's left you, suddenly you care?"

Franco barely registered the jab. One word cut through the rest.

"C-section?" His breath hitched. "No, she was supposed to have a natural birth. I never approved surgery. What the hell happened?"

The nurse rolled her eyes. "Of course you didn't. Your son came looking for you—begging you to come. You ignored him."

Her voice turned sharp. "Your twins suffocated in the womb. No doctors were available in time. If we hadn't rushed in a surgeon from another hospital, your wife would be dead too."

Franco's legs gave out.

"No... no, that's not possible—"

His vision blurred as he gasped for air, his mind spinning.

He tore through the house, throwing open the bedroom door—then froze.

The vanity was wiped clean. The wardrobe gaped open, empty.

Every trace of Mara was gone.

His gaze dropped to the floor—shredded photographs scattered like debris. He grabbed a torn piece.

Their family portrait.

But in every single one, his face had been ripped away.

Mara had taken only the pieces with her and Alec—leaving nothing of him behind.

Franco stood there, numb.

And suddenly, he remembered the look on her face in the car that day.

Franco couldn't bring himself to finish that thought.

The phone rang—Leanna's name flashing on the screen. He answered, irritation tightening his jaw.

"Franco... why did you leave?" Her voice trembled. "Every time I close my eyes, I see little Lolly's face... I'm so scared..."

Normally, that fragile, pleading tone would have him dropping everything to run to her. But today, it set his teeth on edge. He muttered an excuse and hung up without another word.

He dialed Mara's number—over and over—only to hear the same automated response each time: The number you have dialed is unavailable.

A crushing weight pressed against his ribs. He needed proof. He couldn't accept it.

At Alec's school, the teacher's expression said everything before she even spoke. "My condolences."

Mara had already withdrawn him. She'd come in person, death certificate in hand.

Franco stared at the document, unblinking, until reality cracked through him.

"They say the poor boy ran into the street chasing a car," the teacher murmured. "The truck never saw him... it was so fast. Such a terrible accident."