1 Eight months pregnant, and my notoriously biased parents finally invited me home for dinner. Then the fire broke out. In an instant, they shoved me aside, grabbing my sister, Chelsea—the one with leukemia—and fled, leaving me to the flames. Just as I thought I was going to die, my husband, Adrian, charged back into the inferno without a second thought and pulled me from the wreckage. He didn't seem to care about his own burns, his eyes filled with nothing but aching tenderness for me. “You’re pregnant,” he’d murmured, his voice choked with soot and fear. “If anything happened to the baby… what would I do?” I thought I had finally found someone who truly loved me. Until I saw his chat history with my sister. “Chelsea, just wait a little longer. As soon as she has the baby and we get the cord blood, I can save you.” Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone and dialed the clinic. “Hello, I’d like to schedule an abortion.” … I had just picked up the appointment slip when I ran into Adrian, propping up my sister Chelsea as they headed for her own check-up. He froze when he saw me. “Honey, what are you doing at the hospital? I thought your prenatal appointment wasn't until next week.” His gaze darted anxiously to my stomach. I used to think it was a sign of his love. Now I understood. He saw me as nothing more than an incubator for Chelsea’s cure. “Just feeling a little off, so I came to get it checked out,” I said, my voice unnervingly calm. Adrian’s face tightened with worry. “Off how? What did the doctor say? How’s the baby? Did you get the results?” He rushed to my side, steadying me, his hand hovering protectively over my belly, his eyes a performance of pure concern. Chelsea, however, shot me a venomous glare. “You can’t even handle a simple pregnancy. What good are you? If anything, and I mean anything, happens to that baby, I’ll make you pay.” I handed Adrian the ultrasound printout I’d just received. “The results are fine. The baby’s perfectly healthy.” He let out a visible sigh of relief. “That’s good. Then you should go home and rest. Chelsea still has a few tests to get through, so I’ll stay with her and be back later.” His other hand never once left Chelsea’s arm. I used to dismiss his excessive attention to her as him simply trying to get along with my family for my sake. It never occurred to me that this was their plan all along. As they walked away, a cold resolve settled over me. I followed them. I watched them disappear into the office of the Head of Hematology—who also happened to be my father. “Chelsea’s condition can’t wait any longer,” my father’s voice was grim. “We need to do something, fast.” Adrian squeezed Chelsea’s hand tightly. “Just a little longer. Two months, max. Once Amelia gives birth and we get the cord blood, we can save her.” “She might not even last another month,” my father countered, his tone severe. “We have to operate as soon as possible.” “Then let’s do the C-section now. The baby is viable at eight months.” A figure stepped out from a corner of the office. My blood ran cold. It was my mother, an OB-GYN at this very hospital. It felt like a dozen knives plunged into my chest, stealing my breath. They were all in on it. All of them. And I had been naive enough to believe that my pregnancy had finally earned me a sliver of my parents’ love. “But Amelia’s only eight months along,” Adrian’s voice pulled me back from the brink. “If we induce her now, will it harm the baby?” My mother’s face soured, her brow furrowed. “Chelsea’s health is the only thing that matters right now. Nothing else is important.” I stared at the woman who had carried me for nine months, and my heart felt like it was being ripped apart. Chelsea leaned into Adrian’s arms, her voice a saccharine whisper. “Adrian, darling, you seem so worried about her baby. Don’t tell me you’re actually starting to fall for her.” He pulled her tighter, his denial swift and sharp. “Of course not. I only married her to get you the cord blood you need to live. Once the baby is out, she’s worthless to me.” I watched the scene unfold, tears streaming silently down my face, my hand clenched around the abortion pill the doctor had given me earlier. I tilted my head back and, without a single shred of doubt, swallowed it. 2 After taking the pill, I went home. I signed the divorce papers I’d had drawn up months ago and locked them in the safe. Just as I started to pack, the front door burst open. A chill of pure fear shot down my spine. Adrian stormed in and grabbed my arm. “Amelia, the doctor just called me. He took another look at your report. The baby’s not doing well. We have to go to the hospital. Now.” I tried to pull away, but his grip was like a vise, my wrist already turning red. “I’m not going. The doctor told me himself that the baby was fine. And why would the hospital call you and not me?” Adrian’s eyes were bloodshot, a frantic urgency in them. “It was a last-minute call! Your mother contacted me directly. Even if you don’t trust me, you trust your own mother, don’t you?” Right on cue, my parents walked in. My mother’s face was a cold mask. “This is your own fault for not being careful enough. You’ve upset the baby’s stability. You’re coming with us to the hospital.” My father chimed in, “Your mother is an OB-GYN, for God’s sake. You don’t trust her professional opinion?” My free hand shot out, grabbing the bedroom doorknob in a death grip. “I’m not going. It’s late. We can go tomorrow. I feel fine. There’s nothing wrong.” My mother’s eyes narrowed into slits. She strode forward and started prying my fingers from the knob, one by one. “You’ll go when I say you’ll go. Why are you so difficult? I’m your mother. Would I ever do anything to harm you?” From the moment I was born, they had shipped me off to live with my grandparents in the countryside. They only reluctantly brought me back after my grandparents passed away and the village council called them. I had always wanted to ask them: we were both their daughters, why did they love Chelsea and not me? I held on with every ounce of strength I had, and my mother couldn't break my grip. SLAP. The sound echoed in the room. Her hand struck my face with brutal force. “You are going to the hospital with me, right now. If you delay Chelsea’s treatment, I will make you regret it.” My cheek burned, instantly swelling. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Finally. The masks are off.” My mother was unfazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is that your body is no longer fit to continue this pregnancy. It just so happens that Chelsea needs the cord blood to live.” Seeing that I still wouldn't let go, my father joined the assault. “Amelia, you’ve always been the sensible one. Your sister needs you. Can’t you do this one thing for your mother and me?” He was trying to play the family card. I spat on the floor at his feet. “Don’t you dare. Stop with the fake sentiment. Chelsea’s life is a life, but mine isn’t? A forced C-section at eight months… I could die.” When he saw that I wouldn't be swayed, he slapped me too, on the other cheek. “You ungrateful wretch! That’s your sister! What’s wrong with sacrificing one baby to save her? It’s not like you can’t have another one.” Adrian dropped the act completely. His hands closed around my neck. “Amelia, Chelsea collapsed this afternoon. She’s waiting for your cord blood to save her life. You’re going to that hospital whether you like it or not.” “Adrian, the baby in my belly is your child!” I gasped. He sneered. “It’s his honor to be able to save Chelsea. It’s his purpose. Otherwise, a woman like you would never have been worthy of carrying my child in the first place.” I stared into his cold, merciless eyes and felt myself plummeting into a bottomless abyss. 3 “Dad, Mom, let’s stop wasting time with her. Chelsea can’t wait. Let’s just tie her up and drag her to the hospital!” With that, Adrian grabbed a rope. With my parents’ help, they bound my hands behind my back. “Get moving! If you screw up Chelsea’s treatment, I’ll deal with you,” my mother hissed, shoving me forward. I hooked my foot around the doorframe, refusing to budge. Adrian kicked my leg, hard. “Amelia, if Chelsea doesn’t make it, I swear I’ll make you pay with your life.” He used all his strength. I crumpled to the floor with a thud, my knees screaming in protest. A sharp, twisting pain shot through my abdomen. “Be careful with the baby!” my mother snapped at Adrian. “You can hit her face, but don't you dare harm the baby in her stomach.” Adrian nodded quickly. He and my father hauled me up like a sack of potatoes and started dragging me toward the elevator. Just as the elevator doors opened, a tall, well-built man stepped out. I recognized him. It was Officer Miller from next door. He’d helped me once when my purse was stolen. He was a lifeline. A flicker of hope ignited in my chest. “Help—” Before I could get the word out, my mother clamped her hand over my mouth. “Feeling nauseous again? Don’t worry, sweetheart, Mommy’s taking you to the hospital.” Officer Miller looked at us, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Is everything alright?” “My wife’s not feeling well,” Adrian said smoothly. “Looks like she might be going into labor. We’re rushing her to the hospital.” My hands were still tied behind me, Adrian’s grip like steel, preventing any movement. I could only plead with my eyes, locking them on Officer Miller. “I’m an OB-GYN,” my mother added, pulling out her hospital ID to sell the lie. “My daughter is about to give birth. We can’t waste a second.” “Then you should hurry,” Officer Miller said, stepping aside to let us pass. Adrian let out a small, relieved breath. As they dragged me into the elevator, I watched Officer Miller turn and walk away. The hope in my heart turned to ash. “You little bitch,” my mother hissed as soon as the doors closed, pinching my arm viciously. “You almost tattled to that cop. Do you have any idea that you were about to condemn your own sister to death? How can you be so evil?” The sharp, piercing pain brought fresh tears to my eyes. Just then, my father’s phone rang. “Dr. Evans, your daughter Chelsea has a sudden high fever that won’t break. You need to get back here immediately.” After hanging up, my father’s face grew grim as he stared at my stomach. “Chelsea can’t wait. The second we get to the hospital, we’re prepping for the C-section.” The elevator doors opened, and Adrian and my father practically threw me out. “Stop right there.” A sudden rush of footsteps. I turned my head. It was Officer Miller, his expression serious, standing right behind us. 4 The extinguished embers of hope inside me flared back to life. “You dropped your ID.” Officer Miller jogged over and handed my ID card to my mother. “Oh, thank you, Officer.” My mother gushed with gratitude. I struggled against my bonds, trying to break free. “Officer—” Just as he was about to leave again, I tried to call out, but Adrian clamped his hand over my mouth before I could finish. “Honey, just hold on a little longer. We’re almost at the hospital.” He dragged me toward the car. The moment I was thrown into the back seat, my mother’s fingers dug into my arm again, hard. “If you dare cause any more trouble, I swear I’ll make you wish you were never born.” Adrian sped through three red lights to get to the hospital. I was dragged straight into an operating room. Staring at the cold, sterile room, I was terrified. I tried to run, but my mother was ready with a syringe. She jabbed a sedative into my arm. “We’re just taking the baby out. I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. We’re family. And you’re saving your own sister!” The sedative began to work, my body feeling strangely light. But to avoid harming the baby, she’d used a small dose. I was still conscious. “Tie her to the operating table. I’ll perform the surgery myself.” Adrian and my father hoisted me onto the table. “This is illegal! Do you know what you’re doing is a crime?” I screamed, my voice filled with desperation. My mother just scoffed. “You’re my daughter. What’s wrong with me operating on you? I’m the one who gave you life.” My father shot me a contemptuous look. “You ungrateful brat. We raised you all these years, and all we’re asking is for you to save your sister. And you’re talking to us about the law?” Adrian tightened the ropes binding me to the table. I could feel them cutting into the flesh of my wrists. “Adrian, sign this quickly. I need to start,” my mother said, handing him a consent form. He didn't even glance at it before scrawling his name. I looked at the people I was supposed to call my family, and my heart plunged into an icy abyss. “Adrian, maybe you should wait outside. It might get a little bloody,” my mother said, picking up a scalpel. He shook his head. “No. I have to see Chelsea’s medicine being taken out with my own eyes. Only then can I be at ease.” His words were like needles, piercing my heart over and over. In his eyes, I and the baby inside me were nothing more than a dose of medicine. This was a private, illegal surgery. There was no anesthesiologist. My mother pressed the cold blade against my stomach and began to cut. A live C-section. Pain, white-hot and absolute, exploded through me. It felt like my bones were being shattered. I could feel every layer of my flesh being sliced open. The room echoed with my blood-curdling screams, but no one wiped the sweat from my brow, no one even flinched. They didn't even look at me. “You will all pay for this,” I gritted out through clenched teeth. Adrian was about to curse at me when my mother suddenly shouted. “It’s out! The baby’s out!” But her joy was short-lived. A moment later, her voice was laced with terror. “The baby… why isn’t the baby breathing?”
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