My Eight Years Marriage Almost Killed Me

Eight months pregnant, I went to Everett’s office to deliver some documents.

The temperature inside was scorching 46°C. Just as I reached to turn on the air conditioner, his secretary stopped me.

"Ma’am," she said sweetly, "I’m on my period. I get cold easily—please don’t turn it on."

I glanced sideways at her. My baby was growing inside me, and the heat could cause a heatstroke. Without saying a word, I turned the AC on anyway.

That evening, Everett came back from a business dinner and burst through the door, already furious.

"Laura, Maeve is on her period! Do you even realize those 38 minutes and 19 seconds of cold air sent her to the ICU with severe cramps?"

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Everett, are you mocking me just because I don’t have a period? I’m eight months pregnant! And if I get heatstroke, that’s not just discomfort—it could be fatal! Are you drunk?"

He curled his lips into a mocking smile and nodded. "You're right. That was foolish of me."

That night, he comforted me as usual, whispering sweet nothings until I drifted off to sleep.

But when I woke up, I was no longer in my bed. I was in a walk-in freezer—surrounded by walls of glass on all sides.

Outside the glass, a group of second-generation elites laughed and pointed at me. Everett stood among them, his arm was wrapped around Maeve’s slender waist. They looked at me and chuckled.

"Afraid of heatstroke?" he sneered. "Then let’s cool you down properly tonight."

My heart sank.

Calmly, I pulled out my phone and snapped photos of everyone outside. Then, I dialed a number.

“Dad,” I said coldly, “I don’t want any of these people to see the sunrise tomorrow.”

——

There was silence. Then I hung up.

The laughter around me exploded.

"Laura, your dad was thrown into the open sea and was fed to sharks six months ago. Have you frozen your brain? Or were you always this stupid?"

"Still pretending to be the Richardson family’s heiress? Even in your wildest dreams, you wouldn’t dare imagine that anymore."

Everett watched proudly as his cronies mocked me. He took off his fur coat and draped it gently over Maeve’s shoulders, then walked slowly toward the freezer.

He tapped on the glass with his index finger and smiled coldly.

“Laura, are you cold now? Do you realize your mistake?”

The red thermometer outside reads -50°C.

I was shivering from the cold, still dressed in the thin pajamas I’d worn to bed the night before. My skin, where it touched the icy ground, had turned blue and numb. The cold pierced like knives.

Shivering violently, I stumbled to the glass wall and slammed a fist against it.

“Everett, what did I do wrong?! It was 46°C inside—I just turned on the air conditioner! Pregnant women are more vulnerable to heat. If I had collapsed, it would’ve been two lives lost!”

Suddenly, a sharp pain twisted through my abdomen.

I clutched my belly and crouched down, eyes bloodshot as I glared at him.

“Everett, let me out! You know exactly how much I’ve suffered to carry this child. I cannot lose him!”

A flicker of emotion passed through his eyes.

He, of all people, knew the pain I’d gone through.

An accident years ago left Everett infertile. For eight years, I endured thousands of hormone injections the length of my forearm just to extract viable eggs. Only after all those years had we finally conceived.

Eight months of careful bed rest. I had done everything to protect this baby.

I still remember how furious he was once when a servant brought me brown sugar water that wasn’t warm enough, he broke her arm.

But now, for Maeve’s period, he didn’t hesitate to lock me in a freezer.

My chest tightened with bitter despair. Just as I opened my mouth to speak again, Maeve pulled off the fur coat Everett had just given her and clung to his arm with tears brimming in her eyes.

“Everett, let your wife out,” she said softly. “She’s delicate and frail. She won’t survive this... Unlike me—I’m just a poor girl who’s used to hardship. I’ve fainted in freezing rooms before, and I didn’t even dare complain...”