My Husband Killed My Daughter so I Ruined Him

"Do you still want to destroy my husband and your greatest enemy?" I said, my voice flat over the phone. "If yes… pick me up after seven days. I'm going to marry you."

There was a brief silence on the other end, and then a deep, amused laugh. “Is what I’m hearing right? Samantha Reid—Mrs. Jackson Smith—is finally agreeing to marry me? After all these years of swearing you’d rather rot in hell?”

"Inigo," I whispered, “do you want him ruined or not?”

Another pause. "I do. But what about your child with him?"

I swallowed, hard. "There is no child anymore. Jackson… killed our baby."

And before he could say another word, I ended the call and dropped the phone beside me. My hands were trembling. No—my whole body was. A sick, bone-deep chill curled through my skin, all the way down to the hollow space where my baby used to be.

Three days ago, I was smiling. Hopeful. I was finally going to give birth. Jackson was supposed to be waiting at the hospital. I was on my way—when the van swerved in front of mine. Masked men. Guns. I thought… I thought it was Inigo. That’s what Jackson had told me for years: If something happens, it’s Inigo. He hates me. He wants what I have—including you.

They injected something in my veins. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. But I was wide awake. I felt the pain as they sliced into me. I watched blood soak my white dress. I saw my daughter—a tiny, fragile thing—ripped from me. And then nothing. Just a scream in my throat that never escaped.

Then the door burst open. Shouting. Gunfire. I could barely turn my head, but I saw him—Jackson, storming in with rage in his eyes, shooting the men one by one. Blood sprayed the walls. The last thing I heard was him screaming my name, falling to his knees beside me. His hands cradled my face.

“My love, stay with me—”

And then I blacked out, thinking he had saved me. Thinking he was my hero.

When I woke up yesterday, my limbs numb from anesthesia, Jackson was beside me with blood on his shirt. He looked like a savior out of a nightmare. His voice shook as he told me he "got there too late." That he "killed them all." That I was safe.

I believed him. God help me, I always believed him.

But then I heard it. That moment when the drugs hadn't worn off yet and he thought I was asleep. He was standing by the window, speaking to someone on the phone.

“Did you clean the mess? Pay them off?” he said. “Make sure no one knew that I was the one who kidnapped my wife and killed my unborn daughter.”

My fingers gripped the sheets. Is this a dream? What was he saying?

“Yes, sir. They’ll never speak. And they left the country already,” the man replied.

“Good. Let Samantha think it was Inigo,” Jackson said, voice cold and sharp. “No one should know. Not her. Not anyone.”

A pause. Then another voice, hesitant. “Sir… we made her sterile after killing the baby. Wasn’t this too much? What if she finds out?”

“She won’t,” Jackson snapped. “I never loved her. It’s always been Candice. I just needed someone when Candice married my cousin. Samantha was there. Convenient. Loyal. There should only be one heir. Mine and Candice’s. That thing in Samantha’s womb… it would’ve ruined everything.”

My stomach twisted. I wanted to scream. Vomit. Die. But I couldn’t move. I just lay there. Paralyzed. Betrayed.

Candice. The golden girl of high society. Elegant, untouchable, the kind of woman men fought over—and Jackson did. She was his first love, the one he swore he’d marry, the one he gave everything to. But four years ago, Candice shattered him. Chose power over love. Married Jackson’s cousin for status and inheritance. Back then, Jackson wasn’t as powerful as he is now. Jackson broke. I found him that night, drunk and bloody and ready to end it all.

I was the one who stopped him. I was the one who stayed.

I helped him rebuild. Gave him my heart. Even helped him build an empire through my family’s connection even they told me that Jackson would betray me soon. And when he asked me to marry him, I said yes without hesitation, thinking he had finally let go of the past.

But he never did. All along, I was just a placeholder.

Now Candice’s husband was dead. And I was no longer needed.

Jackson came into the room later that day, holding a bouquet of white lilies.

“My love,” he said, gently brushing hair from my forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“I lost the baby,” I whispered.

His eyes dropped for a second. Then he smiled. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“The doctor said I can’t have children anymore,” I said, watching him closely.

He paused but only for a second. Then he leaned in and kissed my hand. “That’s okay. We still have each other. You know I love you, right?”

I nodded. Pretended I didn’t know.

He stood. “Anyway, I need to go to attend some business. I’ll be back, okay?”

I only smiled and watched him leave.

As soon as the door shut, I grabbed my phone and dialed fast.

“This is Samantha Reid,” I said when the lawyer answered. “I want to file for divorce. From Jackson Smith. Immediately.”