I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, my hands pressed to my stomach as if I could hold the miracle inside me in place.

The doctor’s words still rang in my ears—I was pregnant after five miscarriages. I couldn’t wait to tell my husband Jaxon about it on our anniversary today.

A nurse entered. She wore a new badge. “Mrs. Jones?” she asked, glancing down at a stack of files. “We just need you to sign a few forms for your file.”

She handed me a folder, the label on the tab reading Jones—Maternity in hurried handwriting. I opened it, expecting to see my name, but instead, I saw Hannah Clarke printed at the top. My heart skipped. Why was Hannah’s file here?

Confused, I flipped through the papers. It was a pregnancy confirmation—Hannah was pregnant. My best friend. How? When she told me she couldn't get pregnant because she was sick? Why didn't she tell me when we promised that there were no secrets.

I read further, searching for something—anything—that made sense. The father’s name was Jaxon Jones. My hands started to shake.

“What is this?” I whispered, staring at the words as if they might rearrange themselves into something less cruel.

The nurse frowned, looking flustered. “Oh—are you not Miss Hannah? I’m sorry, the Jones files were all clipped together...” She trailed off, checking the folder again. “You said your husband is Mr. Jaxon Jones, and when I saw the Jones name... I thought—Jones’s wife, Hannah, right? Or are you not...”

My blood ran cold. I felt the color drain from my face, the room spinning around me.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the nurse said quickly, reaching for the folder, her hands trembling. “I must have made a mistake. I’m new here, and the files were mixed up. I'll check for yours...”

But it was too late. The damage was done. I had seen enough. My world tilted, the edges of my vision blurring, and I felt myself slipping, weightless and numb.

The last thing I saw before everything went black was the nurse’s panicked face and the scattered papers—my happiness unraveling with every fluttering page.

When I woke up, everything was blurry—voices, shapes, the sterile brightness of the hospital. My head throbbed. I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavy.

Outside the door, voices drifted in, muffled but urgent.

“She’s here at the hospital, Jaxon,” Hannah whispered, her voice trembling. “She must have seen us with our appointment. What if she tells your grandfather about our affair? What are we supposed to do?”

“Calm down,” Jaxon replied, “Even if she saw us, we can just deny it. I already paid everyone now to hide your files, and even made that nurse fired, so Beatrice won’t ask her anymore. She won’t have proof. We’ll say she’s crazy… she’s always been fragile and you know how she had anxiety, everyone knows that, so we can use it against her.”

My breath caught. My hands clenched the edge of the cot, knuckles white.

“She's also pregnant with your child again.” Hannah’s voice broke, raw with fear. “What if she learns the truth—that we’re the reason she keeps having miscarriages? That we’ve been using those miscarried babies for my infertility treatments? Your grandfather likes her—he’ll favor her if she finds out… and you’ll lose the inheritance!”

“Sssh, my love. She’ll never know I was poisoning her. She wouldn’t even suspect, so let's just do it again. And she’ll never discover what I have planned for her birthday. That’s why I’m pushing for the yacht celebration. She’s terrified of water. We’ll push her overboard… and she’ll die. We’ll finally be happy. You’re pregnant with my child now so we don’t need her anymore. She was just an experiment. Let's just pretend and deny if she asked.”

“Fine,” Hannah snapped, “But make sure we end her now, Jaxon. I’m tired of hiding. I want the world to know that we love each other, that we’re together. No more secrets.”

“Of course, we do,” Jaxon replied, “She’s just someone my grandfather wanted me to marry so we could get their company. That’s all she ever was. And you were wrong about one thing, Hannah,” he said, a cruel edge to his voice. “Grandpa doesn’t really favor her. That was a lie, too.”

I felt the air leave my lungs. For years, I’d believed Jaxon’s grandfather, Mateo, liked me. He’d always greeted me with a warm smile, shared stories about my parents, and pressed my hands in his, promising I was family now.

I thought those moments meant something. Maybe, after everything I’d lost, I’d found a place to belong.

I remembered the times Mateo had invited me to sit beside him at family dinners, the way he’d quietly slipped me gifts and whispered encouragement. I thought he saw me, understood the pain of losing my parents, the loneliness that clung to me like a second skin. I thought he cared.

But Jaxon’s next words shattered every memory.

“Grandpa just pities her because her parents died. He wanted to get her inheritance but that fucking bitch just wouldn’t hand it to us yet, so grandpa was being patient with her. After all, Grandpa was the reason her parents died in that accident.”

It all made sense now. The memories, the unanswered questions, the closed doors—all the pieces fit together in a way I never wanted to imagine.

I remembered the night my parents died as if it were etched into my bones. The police had called it a tragic accident, a closed case before I even had time to grieve. I had begged for an investigation, pleaded for someone to look deeper, but every door slammed shut.

Grandpa Mateo had been there for me, always. He would hold my trembling hands and whisper, “Let it go, Beatrice. Some things are better left in the past.”

I had never questioned him. How could I? He had been part of our family for as long as I could remember, always saying I was meant for Jaxon, that our families were destined to unite.

But now—after what I overheard—I saw it all for what it was. Not fate, not destiny. Just manipulation, secrets, and lies.

I needed answers. I needed proof. But in this city, Mateo’s influence was everywhere. The police, the press, even the courts—he owned them all. If I wanted to expose the truth, I needed help from someone outside his reach. Someone with power. Someone with a grudge.

My thoughts spiraled, racing ahead of me, until I was snapped back to reality by the sound of the door opening. Jaxon and Hannah stepped inside, faces painted with concern so perfect it could win awards.

Jaxon’s eyes flickered with a cold calculation, while Hannah’s lips trembled in a performance of worry.

“Beatrice, are you alright?” Hannah asked, her voice sweet and sharp at the edges.

Jaxon stepped closer, his hand hovering near my shoulder. “You look pale. What’s wrong?”

I forced a weak smile, masking the storm inside me. “It’s nothing. I’m just… not feeling well. Probably just exhausted. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Jaxon’s gaze lingered on me, searching for cracks in my composure. “Well, you need to rest. Take a week off, or more, if you need it. Actually, why don’t you give us the formula for the vaccine? Hannah and I can continue the work while you recover. We need to finish by next week or the Blackwell Corporation will beat us. You know how important this is.”

His words hit me like ice water. Blackwell. The name sent a jolt through me. The head of Blackwell was Lorenzo. Jaxon despised him, called him a vulture, a thief. But Lorenzo was also the man who, years ago, offered me a way out—a chance to choose him instead of Jaxon.

I never took it, never even considered it. But now, with my world crumbling around me, maybe Lorenzo was exactly what I needed. Someone outside Mateo’s reach. Someone with a reason to take Jaxon down.

I steadied my voice. “No, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. I can go back to work by tomorrow.”

Jaxon’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “Alright. If you’re sure. Hannah and I have some business to attend to tonight, so we’ll head out. You rest.”

I nodded, watching them leave, the facade of concern slipping away as soon as the door closed behind them. I waited until the silence settled, then called for my trusted butler, Samuel. He had been with my family for years, loyal beyond measure. If anyone could help me, it was him.

“Samuel,” I whispered, urgency in my voice. “Follow them. Discreetly. I need to know where they go and what they do. Record everything.”

He bowed, understanding without question, and disappeared into the night.

Hours crawled by, each minute heavier than the last. When Samuel returned, he handed me a phone with trembling fingers. Images flickered on the screen—Jaxon and Hannah, arm in arm, entering a hotel.

The next video was worse: grainy footage of them together, lost in each other, no secrets left between them. My heart ached, but my resolve hardened. I would not be their victim anymore.

I started gathering everything—photos, videos, documents. Every lie, every betrayal, every piece of evidence. I called my lawyer, voice steady despite the tremor in my hands.

“I want a divorce,” I said, the words tasting like freedom. “As soon as possible. I’ll be discharged from the hospital tomorrow. Set up the papers.”

He agreed, promising discretion. I knew Jaxon would fight, would try to twist the story, but I had proof now. And I had a plan.

The next morning, I discharged myself, dressing carefully, masking the exhaustion with determination. I drove straight to Lorenzo’s office, heart pounding with every step.

He greeted me with a sly smile, eyes sharp, always calculating. “Beatrice. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I met his gaze, refusing to flinch. “Do you still want to marry me?”

His eyebrows lifted, surprise flickering across his face. “Are you serious? You’re still married to Jaxon.”

“I’m divorcing him,” I said, my voice shaking but determined. “I’ve learned he’s been killing my children. He was just using me to get my family’s company. I have proof to bring him down. So, how about you help me?”

Lorenzo’s eyes darkened, a mix of anger and admiration flashing across his face. “If that’s what you want, Beatrice, I’ll help you. See you in two days. Let’s have our wedding.”

I nodded, relief and resolve mingling in my chest. I turned to leave, feeling the first real hope I’d had in years.

When I arrived home, the house was filled with the warm, inviting aroma of dinner. I paused in the doorway, my heart thudding as I saw Jaxon and Hannah in the kitchen, laughter spilling between them.

Jaxon was gently feeding Hannah a bite of something from a spoon, their intimacy on full display.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to sound casual. “What’s happening here?”

Hannah turned to me with a bright, practiced smile. “Oh, he’s letting me taste the food we made for you. Come here, Beatrice… let’s eat, we prepared this for you.”

“I’m actually full,” I said softly, hoping to avoid a scene.

Jaxon’s voice cut through. “Come on, babe, are you really going to do that? Hannah did this for you. Don’t tell me you’re mad at her again for no reason...”

"Jaxon, don't be mad at my best friend. She's just moody at times," Hannah said.

I forced a smile, not wanting to fight, not tonight. I sat down at the table, picking up my fork as Hannah beamed at me, her eyes glittering with something I couldn’t quite name.

The first bite tasted fine, but as I swallowed, a wave of nausea rolled over me. I tried to ignore it, pushing through another mouthful, but my stomach twisted violently.

I dropped my fork, clutching my abdomen as the room spun.

“Beatrice?” Hannah’s voice was syrupy sweet, but I could hear the edge beneath it.

I tried to speak, but bile rose in my throat. I stumbled from the table, rushing to the sink, but it was too late. I vomited, my body wracked with pain. The edges of my vision blurred, darkness creeping in.

Jaxon was suddenly at my side, his hand on my back, concern painted across his face. “Are you alright? Beatrice, what’s wrong?”

But I couldn’t answer. My knees buckled, and the world went black as I fainted, the last thing I heard was Hannah’s voice, low and urgent—

“She’s not supposed to react this fast… but good thing, the baby will die again.”

I woke up to the sterile light of the hospital, the scent of antiseptic sharp in my nose and the weight of loss pressing down on my chest.

The first thing I saw was Jaxon, slumped over the edge of my bed, his shoulders shaking with what looked like honest grief.

For a moment, I almost believed it—almost let myself hope that beneath all the lies, there was a part of him that cared.

He looked up as I stirred, his eyes red and puffy. “Beatrice… Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant again?” His voice cracked, and he reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly. “They just told me—the doctors said the baby died. Why didn’t you say anything?”

I stared at him, searching his face for any flicker of truth. But I saw only the performance, the rehearsed sorrow.

I knew, deep inside, that he and Hannah were the reason I kept losing my babies. I knew the food last night wasn’t just a coincidence. But I couldn’t let him see that I knew. I couldn't let them know I didn't care anymore. After all, I planned for abortion. They helped me make it easy.

“I was supposed to make it a surprise but it's too late now,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Jaxon wiped his eyes, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry, too. For not taking care of you… for everything. Maybe it was the food, maybe I did something wrong. I should have been more careful.”

“It’s okay,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. “This isn’t the first time... and the doctor said I'm really sensitive.”

Hannah appeared in the doorway, her face arranged in a mask of concern. She hurried to my side, patting my arm gently. “Don’t worry, Beatrice… Everything will be okay. You’re strong. Surely, you’ll have a child again.”

Jaxon nodded, glancing at Hannah with a strange glint in his eye. “Actually, Hannah is pregnant. Maybe we can… adopt her baby? That way, we can have a family.”

I felt my stomach churn, rage and disgust swirling inside me.

I turned to Jaxon, my voice icy. “Why would we adopt? What about the father? Are you the father, Jaxon?”

He recoiled, shaking his head emphatically. “No, of course not! Hannah used a sperm donor. It’s all above board.”

Hannah chimed in quickly, her smile brittle. “Yes, just a donor. Nothing more… and you know how I always wanted to have a baby and when they told me I had cured my infertility issues, I decided to have one... Even with not father. I mean, you're there for me, right? And Jaxon...”

I nodded, pretending to accept their story. “Yeah… okay. Congratulations. You both can do whatever you want to do.”

Jaxon brightened instantly, his mood shifting like the flick of a switch. “That’s great news, Beatrice. We can be a happy family together.”

I forced a smile, exhaustion weighing me down. “Let me rest for a while.”

They left me alone. I stared at the ceiling, replaying every word, every lie, every moment that had brought me here.

My body ached with loss, but my mind was sharper than ever. I would not let them destroy me. Not now.

My phone buzzed on the side table. I reached for it, hands trembling, and saw a message from my lawyer: Divorce finalized.

A wave of relief crashed over me, mingled with fear and hope. I was free from Jaxon—at least on paper. But I knew he wouldn’t let me go so easily. Not with the company, not with the secrets I carried.

Later that day, I left the hospital. I went straight to the church, my heart pounding with anticipation and dread. Lorenzo was waiting for me, dressed in a simple suit, his eyes alive with determination.

He took my hands in his, his touch gentle but firm. “Are you ready?”

I nodded, my voice steady. “Yes. I need you, Lorenzo. Not just for me, but for justice. For all the things they’ve done. Help me bring them down and you can demand anything fro me.”

The ceremony was brief, almost surreal. I barely registered the words, the vows, the ring on my finger.

All I could think about was survival, about the fight ahead.

When the priest pronounced us husband and wife, I felt something shift inside me—a new beginning, a new chance.

Afterwards, we sat together in the quiet of the church, the stained glass casting colored shadows across our faces.

I looked at Lorenzo, my new husband, and spoke the words I’d been holding deep inside.

“They’re planning to kill me on my birthday,” I said, my voice trembling but clear. “Jaxon and Hannah—they want to take me out on the yacht. I’m terrified of water. They want to push me overboard and make it look like an accident. I overheard everything. I would still come though because I’m not yet done with them, so save me.”

Lorenzo’s hand tightened around mine. “I’ll be there. I promise. We’ll be ready.”

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of dread and defiance. Then I went home, bracing myself for whatever performance Jaxon and Hannah had prepared.

The moment I stepped into the house, I found Hannah in the hallway, dragging suitcases and boxes. Jaxon stood nearby, arms crossed, watching her with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Oh, Beatrice,” Jaxon said, not bothering to hide the coldness in his voice, “Hannah will use our room now. She likes the view and the sunlight. She’ll be here so we can take care of her and her baby. Just use the guest room for now.”

I forced a smile, swallowing the bitterness. “Okay.”

Hannah flashed me a bright, insincere grin. “Oh, thank you, my best friend. You’re really the best!”

I just smiled, holding back everything I wanted to say.

Later, as Hannah continued unpacking, I heard a crash from the bedroom. I rushed in to find her standing over a shattered painting—the one my mother had given me, the last gift before she died. The frame splintered, glass everywhere, the canvas torn.

Hannah looked up, feigning surprise. “Oops! I’m so sorry, Beatrice. I guess I’m just clumsy today.”

But I saw the satisfaction flicker across her face, the deliberate malice in her eyes. Rage surged through me, hot and uncontrollable. She knew how important it was to me!

I stepped forward and shoved her, harder than I meant to, the years of betrayal boiling over.

Hannah stumbled back, but before anything else could happen, Jaxon stormed in, his face twisted with fury.

He didn’t hesitate—his hand shot out, and he slapped me across the face, the crack echoing through the room.

“Are you insane?” he shouted, eyes blazing. “Are you trying to kill her baby because you can’t have one? God, I knew it! You were always jealous of Hannah!”