Reborn Wife: A Mother's Fury

Reborn Wife: A Mother's Fury

Gavin

5.0
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The last thing I remembered was the cold, sterile operating room. A sharp pain tore through my abdomen, and my husband Ethan's chilling indifference burned into me. "Sign it, Ethan! The doctor says she's bleeding out. They need to perform the surgery to save her!" I screamed, my voice distant and desperate. But he wouldn't. He stood there, arms crossed, saying, "The doctor said there's a risk to the baby. I can't risk my daughter's life." "There won't be a daughter if I die!" I countered, agony blurring my vision. "The baby can't survive if I don't!" Then, my six-year-old stepson, Liam, holding Ethan's hand, pointed at me. "Dad, Sophia said this woman is just faking it. She said if she dies, Sophia can be my new mom and take care of you and the baby." His words hit harder than any physical pain. My own stepson, a child I'd raised since he was two, was wishing for my death. Ethan didn't scold him. He squeezed Liam' s shoulder in silent agreement as Sophia Davis, Liam's beautiful young tutor, stepped into view with a triumphant smirk. They never signed the papers. I bled out on that operating table, my last sight the three of them-Ethan, Liam, and Sophia-already looking like a happy family. A sharp gasp snapped me awake. My eyes flew open. I was in my own bed, morning sun streaming through the silk curtains. My hand went to my stomach. It was still there, a gentle, rounded swell. My baby girl was safe. I grabbed my phone. The date confirmed it: today was the day my life unraveled. The day Liam brought Sophia home. I hadn't died. I was back. The memory of my death wasn't a dream. It was a searing brand, a horrifying premonition. The betrayal, the pain, the cold finality-all of it clear as day. A wave of nausea washed over me, not from pregnancy, but from cold, hard fury. They would not kill me this time. They would not harm my daughter. This time, I would make them pay for a crime they hadn't committed yet. Just then, the doorbell rang. I heard the housekeeper, then Liam's excited chatter. My heart turned to ice. It was starting.

Introduction

The last thing I remembered was the cold, sterile operating room.

A sharp pain tore through my abdomen, and my husband Ethan's chilling indifference burned into me.

"Sign it, Ethan! The doctor says she's bleeding out. They need to perform the surgery to save her!" I screamed, my voice distant and desperate.

But he wouldn't. He stood there, arms crossed, saying, "The doctor said there's a risk to the baby. I can't risk my daughter's life."

"There won't be a daughter if I die!" I countered, agony blurring my vision. "The baby can't survive if I don't!"

Then, my six-year-old stepson, Liam, holding Ethan's hand, pointed at me.

"Dad, Sophia said this woman is just faking it. She said if she dies, Sophia can be my new mom and take care of you and the baby."

His words hit harder than any physical pain. My own stepson, a child I'd raised since he was two, was wishing for my death.

Ethan didn't scold him. He squeezed Liam' s shoulder in silent agreement as Sophia Davis, Liam's beautiful young tutor, stepped into view with a triumphant smirk.

They never signed the papers.

I bled out on that operating table, my last sight the three of them-Ethan, Liam, and Sophia-already looking like a happy family.

A sharp gasp snapped me awake.

My eyes flew open. I was in my own bed, morning sun streaming through the silk curtains. My hand went to my stomach. It was still there, a gentle, rounded swell. My baby girl was safe.

I grabbed my phone. The date confirmed it: today was the day my life unraveled. The day Liam brought Sophia home.

I hadn't died. I was back.

The memory of my death wasn't a dream. It was a searing brand, a horrifying premonition. The betrayal, the pain, the cold finality-all of it clear as day.

A wave of nausea washed over me, not from pregnancy, but from cold, hard fury. They would not kill me this time. They would not harm my daughter. This time, I would make them pay for a crime they hadn't committed yet.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

I heard the housekeeper, then Liam's excited chatter. My heart turned to ice. It was starting.

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