“You’re a liar. A damn witch.”

She turned her face away as if my words had wounded her deeply, playing the victim to perfection. But I caught it—the brief flash of triumph in her eyes before she hid it.

Vincent’s voice cut through the room, sharp and dangerous. “Get out of my sight before I completely lose my temper.”

“You actually believe her?” My throat burned as I spoke, raw with disbelief.

He didn’t hesitate. Not even for a second. “You’ve changed, Althea. Losing the baby back then shattered you. All that’s left now is resentment.”

A hollow laugh slipped out of me, harsh and broken. Blood trickled to my lip, warm and sticky. I brushed it away with the back of my hand. His gaze dropped to the red stain, and for the briefest moment, something like regret flickered across his face.

“Li—” he began.

A soft whine sounded behind him.

“My head hurts…” Natalia murmured weakly. “She hit me so hard, Vincent.”

He turned to her instantly, pulling her into his arms as if I no longer existed. Over his shoulder, Natalia met my eyes, her mouth curving into the faintest, cruelest smile.

Three days.

I only had to endure three more days.

---

The next morning, I left the house before anyone noticed. The air outside was crisp, but my chest felt unbearably heavy as I sat once again in the clinic’s waiting room. My hand rested over my stomach—still flat, still quiet—but I knew what was there. Two heartbeats. Two lives I never believed I’d be given.

When the nurse called my name, my legs felt unsteady as I followed her inside. The doctor looked up, surprise crossing his face.

“Mrs. Ramirez,” he said slowly. “I remember you.”

I managed a small nod.

He skimmed my file, then met my eyes again. “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?”

I stayed silent.

“Althea,” he said gently, “this pregnancy is nothing short of a miracle. If you terminate it, there won’t be another chance.”

His words landed hard. I pressed my palm against my stomach. I remembered every night I cried myself to sleep, begging for just one miracle. Every forced smile when someone else announced their pregnancy. Every quiet moment of heartbreak. And now that the impossible had finally happened, I was moments away from throwing it away because of Vincent. Because of his cruelty.

Something cracked inside my chest. Tears spilled down my face before I could stop them. My voice trembled, barely audible. “I’m… I’m keeping them.”

The doctor’s expression softened. “You’re making the right decision.”

When I stepped outside, the world felt lighter somehow. I wasn’t free yet—but in three days, I would be. I would vanish with my children and build a new life far from this rot.

“Althea!”

I froze.

Turning slowly, I saw Vincent walking toward me, his stride urgent.

Before I could move, his hand closed around my arm. “Thank God I found you,” he said, gripping me so tightly I knew bruises would bloom later.

“What now?” I asked dully, exhaustion weighing down every word.

“It’s Natalia,” he said. “She’s in the hospital. High fever all night—from stress, and from what you did to her.” His stare was sharp, condemning. “This is on you.”

A dry, bitter laugh escaped me. “I’ve told you a hundred times—I never touched her.”

He ignored me. “She collapsed this morning. Her fever spiked. She’s weak. The doctors say she needs a blood transfusion.”

I frowned. “And why is that my problem?”

His jaw clenched. “You’re her twin. You’re a match. You’re the only one who can save her.”

“You expect my blood? After everything she’s done?” My stomach twisted violently.

His grip tightened until pain shot up my arm. “This isn’t about your feelings. This is about saving lives. You can wallow later. Right now, you’re doing the right thing.”

I tried to pull free, but he dragged me toward the parking lot. My heels scraped against the pavement. “There are other donors. Find someone else. I’m not doing this.”

He stopped abruptly and turned to me, his voice turning icy. “You will. Because this is your fault.”

“You’ll never choose me over her, will you?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t respond. Just tugged me forward again.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding, then finally said the words I’d been hiding.

“I’m pregnant.”

That finally made him stop.

He turned slowly, disbelief written all over his face as he stared at me. “What did you just say?”

“I’m pregnant,” I said again, my voice trembling but steady enough to carry. “The doctor told me it’s practically a miracle I conceived at all. It’s a high‑risk pregnancy… and it’s twins, Vincent. If you take my blood, you could kill them. Our children.”

For a brief second, everything went quiet.

Then he laughed.

It was a harsh, ugly sound that cut straight through me. “You really expect me to buy that?” His lips curled in contempt. “You’re disgusting enough to fake a pregnancy just to avoid helping your own sister?”

“I’m telling the truth,” I whispered.

“No, you’re not,” he snapped. “You’ve always been a liar, Althea. You’ll give the blood. End of story.”

Something inside me finally shattered. “I’m not killing my babies for her!”

His face darkened, fury rolling off him like a storm. “Then I’ll burn that vineyard your parents spent their lives building. Row by row. I’ll make you stand there and watch while I rip out every vine, crush the soil until nothing ever grows again. No wine. No barrels. No trace that they ever existed.”

My blood went cold.

That vineyard wasn’t just land—it was my parents’ legacy. Decades of work since the eighties, every vine planted by their hands. I grew up running between those rows, breathing in the sweetness of harvest season. It was our family’s heart, and he knew exactly how to use it against me.

“Y-you wouldn’t,” I stammered.

Vincent stepped closer, invading my space until I could feel his breath against my skin. His eyes were sharp, merciless. “Test me.”

I stared at him, my chest heaving. This was the man I once loved. The man who once swore he’d protect me. Now he was the one I needed protection from.

My hand drifted to my stomach without thinking. The twins. My babies. Tears slid down my face, silent and helpless.

When he grabbed my arm and yanked me forward, I didn’t resist. Fighting him had never ended well. I followed quietly, swallowing the sobs clawing at my throat.

He took me straight into the VIP hospital room he’d arranged for Natalia. She lay in the bed, pale and frail, IV lines running into her arm, eyes rimmed red. She let out weak little whimpers, like she was barely holding on.

Vincent rushed to her side. “I’m here, Daph,” he murmured, brushing her hair back gently—so tender, so different from how he treated me. “You’re going to be okay. I brought her.”

Her lips quivered. “Everything hurts, Vincent… I feel so bad.”

I stood frozen, watching my husband cradle my sister like she was made of glass. Then Natalia cracked one eye open and looked at me.

She smiled.

No—she smirked. Just for a split second before closing her eyes again.

Bitch.

Anger churned violently in my gut.

I stepped forward to speak, but Vincent turned so fast I barely had time to react. His hand clamped around my wrist, grip iron‑hard. One look from him told me exactly what would happen if I opened my mouth.

The door swung open, and a doctor entered, eyes flicking between us.

“She’s deteriorating,” Vincent said flatly, not even glancing at me. “Start the transfusion immediately.”

“She’s stable enough to—” the doctor began, but Natalia whimpered again.

“We’re not waiting,” Vincent cut in. “The donor’s right here.”

The doctor’s gaze settled on me. He nodded once and instructed the nurses to prepare.

My body went rigid when I saw the needle. Cold sweat broke across my skin. I’d always been terrified of needles, and Vincent knew it. Years ago, he used to hold my hand, murmur reassurances, distract me until it was over.

Now, he didn’t even look at me.

At Natalia’s next whimper, he abandoned me entirely and rushed back to her side.

I turned my head away as the doctor approached. In my mind, I begged anyone—God, fate, even the devil—to make this stop.

The needle hovered inches from my arm when the door slammed open.

“Stop!”

Another doctor rushed in, clutching a folder, breathless. “You can’t proceed.”

The room fell silent.

“Mrs. Ramirez is pregnant!” he announced loudly.

The needle was lowered at once.

Vincent blinked, his face twitching. “That’s impossible. She can’t—”

The doctor stepped forward and shoved the file into his hands. “She was here this morning for an abortion consult and cancelled it. She’s carrying twins. High‑risk.”

Relief crashed over me so hard my knees nearly buckled. Finally. Proof. Someone believed me.

But before I could fully breathe, Vincent lifted his head.

His voice was cold as ice. “I don’t give a fuck. Take her blood.”

I stared at him, stunned. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, jaw tight.

The room went dead quiet except for the steady beeping of machines.

One of the nurses hesitated, then spoke carefully. “Mr. Ramirez, your wife cannot donate blood. She’s pregnant—with twins—and it’s a high‑risk pregnancy. Proceeding could cost both babies.”

Vincent didn’t even blink. He stepped forward, voice sharp and commanding. “I heard you. Do it anyway.”

The doctor looked between us, shaken. “Sir, this could endanger her life as well. We can’t—”

“You can,” Vincent snapped. “I’m paying you enough to do exactly what I say.”

My chest tightened painfully. This was my husband. The man I once trusted with my life.

Vincent’s gaze swept the room. “I am Vincent Ramirez. Every one of you works here because I allow it. Defy me—and you’ll regret it.”

The nurses went rigid. The doctor dropped his gaze to the floor. No one in that room wanted to be the one who challenged him.

One of the nurses finally turned toward me, her voice hesitant, almost remorseful. “Mrs. Ramirez… we need your permission to proceed.”

I looked straight at Vincent, tears slipping down my face one after another. “You’ve always said you wanted a child. And now that I’m carrying your twins, you’re willing to sacrifice them for Natalia and her fake illness?”

He let out a harsh laugh. “You were planning to get rid of them anyway.”

I shook my head slowly. “You just heard that I canceled the procedure.”

Vincent sighed like I was being unreasonable. “Althea, your pregnancy is unstable. The odds aren’t good. Natalia’s situation is safer. Her baby actually has a chance.”

My stomach sank. “So you’re choosing to kill mine for hers.”

He stepped closer, his tone softening as if that could justify it. “It’s not like that. Natalia’s condition is worsening. Yours…” He shrugged. “You might not even make it another month.”

I couldn’t find my voice. I could only stare at him and finally understand the truth—this wasn’t about saving a life. It was about choosing a woman. And he had never chosen me.

“You’ve already decided,” I whispered.

From the bed, Natalia let out a small, rehearsed cough. Vincent’s attention snapped to her immediately, as if I’d vanished from the room.

The nurse’s hand brushed my arm, gentle, sympathetic. “Mrs. Ramirez… please.”

Vincent never once looked back.

I swallowed, my throat burning. “Go ahead.”

The needle pierced my skin. I watched my blood flow into the tubing, my gaze fixed on the floor as I fought back sobs. My chest tightened, dizziness crashing over me in waves.

The nurse glanced at the monitor and gasped. “Her vitals are dropping!”

“Stop the transfusion,” the doctor ordered sharply.

Vincent shoved him aside. “Don’t you dare stop. Natalia needs it.”

“She’s stable,” the nurse argued.

“You’re blind if you think she’s fine,” Vincent barked.

Pain ripped through me. My vision swam, metallic taste filling my mouth. My body shook uncontrollably.

Somewhere through the haze, Percival crossed my mind—his voice, the way he’d said finally, as though he’d always known this moment would come. I’d asked him to wait. I’d never said yes.

The staff argued with Vincent, their voices overlapping. He never once looked at me. His eyes were only on Natalia.

With the last of my strength, I whispered, barely audible, “Please… save my babies.”

Then everything faded to black.

---

When I woke up, I almost wished I hadn’t.

My entire body screamed in pain, like I’d been thrown down stairs and crushed for good measure. There was an awful emptiness inside me, a hollow ache that felt like something essential had been ripped away.

“Oh, Mrs. Ramirez. You’re awake,” a female doctor said softly from beside my bed. “We were afraid we might lose you.”

My throat felt raw. My limbs were heavy, sore, bruised in places I didn’t even know could bruise. The harsh hospital lights burned my eyes as I blinked, confused for a brief second, hoping—desperately—that it had all been a nightmare.

Then it came rushing back.

Vincent. Natalia. The transfusion. The agony. The fear.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I turned toward the doctor. Her expression was too careful. Too gentle. I already knew.

“My babies…” My voice broke. “Please… tell me they’re alive.”

She hesitated.

That pause shattered me more than any words could have.

Her eyes softened as she shook her head. “We did everything we could. I’m so sorry. The twins didn’t survive.”

The world stopped.

Then I broke apart.

I cried until my lungs burned, until my body shook violently, until pain ripped through my stitches and my vision blurred with tears. I mourned the two tiny lives I never got to hold, the soft kicks I’d never feel, the future Vincent had destroyed without hesitation.

If I had known it would end like this, maybe I wouldn’t have let myself love them. Maybe I would have ended it earlier—before hope took root.

When my sobs finally slowed, I wiped my face with trembling hands. My thoughts drifted back to Percival. To his offer. To his certainty.

“W-what day is it?” I asked weakly.

“It’s Thursday,” the doctor replied gently. “You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

Two days.

Time was slipping away.

“Please… I need my phone.”

“It’s in the drawer beside you.”

I grabbed it, my fingers shaking as I typed out the message.

I accept your offer. Meet me at the airport.

The reply came almost instantly.

Finally. I was starting to think you’d changed your mind, little grapes.

I typed back without hesitation.

Never.