My Husband Killed Our Unborn Baby to Save his Beloved Woman

Three years after Theo Hayes and I got married, I finally became pregnant.

Yet, around Valentine's Day, he made the decision to end my pregnancy for medical reasons.

With red-rimmed eyes, he told me my heart condition couldn't safely sustain a pregnancy.

I was overwhelmed with guilt, convinced my body had failed him—and that I'd disappointed the man who'd always claimed to love me deeply.

Behind a curtain, Theo was washing the blood from his hands.

"Theo, actually, if Dolores's current health is meticulously nurtured, there's a chance she could give birth to the baby. Why did you insist on..."

"Teresa's condition is critical," Theo said coldly. "She needs a rare type of transplant—one that only a closely matched donor in our family can provide. Dolores's child is the best source, but a full-term delivery is too slow. Teresa can't wait so long. So... I expedited the fetus's growth and induced labor at five months. Although the baby won't survive, the cord blood can be used. Given Dolores's fragile health, this was the only way to help Teresa in time. It's a sacrifice, but one that serves the family.

Don't let Dolores know I expedited the fetus and induced it. Just tell her it was a stillbirth."

Dolores closed her eyes in despair, and tears streamed uncontrollably.

Her husband, Theo, killed their baby and even drained the last value from it.

He just used the baby's umbilical cord blood to save Soren Powell, my half-sister.

...

In the quiet recovery room, I slowly came to from anesthesia.

My lower abdomen felt hollow, and a deep ache spread through me—like something precious had been taken without my consent.

In the corner, two nurses were tidying up the instruments. They were talking in low voices.

"It's heartbreaking… She was so far along."

"Shh, keep your voice down. It's Theo's decision. He is the director of the hospital."

"Using the pregnancy like this—to save the Powells' daughter—it just feels wrong."

Tears slid from the corners of my eyes into my hair. It was icy cold.

I repeated in my mind, "Theo, is this what you meant? You told me the baby has an 'unexpected developmental halt'."

He had tearfully told me that it was "for the sake of my heart".

Beyond a pale blue curtain, the sound of running water echoed.

Theo was washing his hands. "Is everything dealt with?" he asked.

The assistant's voice trembled slightly. "Yes, it's done. The cord blood has been extracted and is being sent to be examined."

"Good," Theo replied. His tone was emotionless. "Remember, tell Dolores it was a stillbirth. She doesn't need to know the truth."

"But Mr. Hayes, if Dolores finds out it was to save Teresa..."

"She doesn't need to know it," Theo interrupted with an authoritative finality. "She's always known her place in this family. This is how she serves it. Consider it her purpose."

My heart clenched fiercely. Was it my honor?

It was our child, a living, breathing five-month-old baby.

But to Theo, it was nothing more than a vessel for Teresa's cord blood?

The curtain was abruptly pulled aside.

Theo entered and wore the familiar mask of tenderness I once knew so well.

He approached the bed and tucked in the blanket with a gentle gaze.

"You're awake? Does it hurt?" He offered me a cup of warm water with a straw. "Have some water. You lost a lot of blood," he said softly.

I looked at his face.

He had sharp brows, starry eyes, and a high nose bridge. I'd loved him for a decade.

Yet now, my stomach churned violently.

He had just ended our child's life before it even began.

And now, he could nonchalantly show concern about me.

I opened my mouth and took the straw.

The warm water flowed down my throat, but it couldn't quell the nausea rising within me.

I pushed him away suddenly and retched, spilling water and bile onto his shirt.

Theo was stunned.

A flicker of disgust flashed in his eyes before he quickly concealed it.

He took out a tissue and first wiped his sleeve and then my mouth. "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

I stared into his eyes and hoped to see a shred of guilt.

But I failed.

There was only feigned concern and a deep-seated impatience.

"I miss my baby..." My voice was hoarse.

Theo sighed. "Dolores, the baby is gone. It was a stillbirth. Your heart isn't well. If you saw it, you would be more grieved. I've already taken care of it."

How did he take care of it?

Did he discard it like rubbish?

His phone vibrated briefly then.

He glanced at the screen, and his eyes lit up instantly. Then he said to me, "Dolores, have a good rest. There's an urgent matter at the company I need to attend to. I'll come back later."

Without waiting for my response, he left in haste.

I knew where he was going.

He wasn't going to the company. He must deliver "nutrients" to Teresa.

I pulled the IV needle from my hand.

A drop of blood welled up, staining the sheet.

My phone vibrated.

It was a message from Teresa.

It included just a photo without any text.

A tube of fresh red blood.

Another message followed from her. "Dolores, thank you for your gift. I'll live well—for both of us."

I clutched the phone tightly.

Outside, many people were gathering during the holiday.

Their vibrant colors from fireworks cast shadows on the stark white walls.

Countless families were reunited happily now, meanwhile, my unborn baby had become a cold tube of blood.

I counted my heartbeats.

One, two...

In that moment, I realized that I, the woman who loved Theo, had died on the operating table.