My Son-in-Law’s First Love Murdered My Daughter

When my daughter’s water broke, she was rushed to the hospital to give birth. My son-in-law, however, insisted she wait until noon for a C-section. He claimed that a fortune-teller had determined that was the most auspicious time for the baby to be born, saying it would bring good luck and ensure the child would be as powerful as a kraken or phoenix. Tragically, my daughter died in the process, and both she and the baby were lost.

By the time I arrived at the hospital after hearing the terrible news, my son-in-law had already buried her in haste. He told me that my daughter had died from complications during childbirth. I was completely heartbroken and in shock.

As time passed, I uncovered a horrible truth. The doctor who performed the delivery turned out to be my son-in-law’s first love, and the cause of death was a lie. My daughter was deliberately killed so they could harvest her organs to save their illegitimate son, who needed a cornea transplant.

On the day their son was discharged from the hospital, my son-in-law celebrated by handing out red envelopes to the medical staff. When I confronted him, he and his first love viciously pushed me into sulfuric acid, leaving me horribly disfigured.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day my daughter was about to give birth.

——

"Mom, you'll have a grandson soon. Paul even asked a fortune-teller to calculate the perfect time for giving birth. Twelve o'clock is the best time, and the baby will surely grow up to be powerful like a Kraken or phoenix," my daughter's cheerful voice echoed in my ears.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, stunned. My hair hadn’t turned white overnight from grief, and I realized something incredible—I hadn’t died. I was reborn! Reborn to the very moment before everything went wrong, when my daughter had just gone into labor.

In my previous life, my daughter’s water broke, and we went to the city's best hospital to wait for her delivery. But I never imagined that the obstetrician in charge was Wendy Holt, my son-in-law’s first love. They had secretly stayed in contact for years.

With modern medical advancements, childbirth isn’t the difficult ordeal it used to be. Yet, in that life, my daughter had called to tell me that she and Paul decided on a C-section at noon, based on superstitions. This time, I wouldn’t let that happen. I gently persuaded her that the baby would be blessed without needing to follow such feudal beliefs.

But my daughter had been deeply brainwashed by her husband and insisted on waiting until twelve o'clock. No matter how much I tried to persuade her, she refused to listen and eventually hung up the phone.

That night, I received the news that my daughter had died from dystocia. I rushed to the hospital, only to be met by my son-in-law, who handed me a small urn, saying she had already been cremated.

He knelt in front of me, tears streaming down his face, hitting himself as he said, "Diane died of dystocia. I’m so sorry. I, Paul Burke, swear I’ll never love another woman for the rest of my life!"

Though his words felt hollow, I was in a state of mental collapse and didn’t sense anything was amiss. What I didn’t know was that, after my daughter died, her corneas were taken and transplanted into Wendy’s son, who had been blinded by an infection.

I was consumed by the pain of my daughter’s death for a long time, unable to move on. Meanwhile, my son-in-law quickly returned to his normal life, as if nothing had happened.

By chance, I saw them—Paul and Wendy—having dinner at a high-end restaurant. After their meal, they went straight to the hotel upstairs. Furious, I rushed to Wendy’s home to confront Paul and demand an explanation.

There, I accidentally overheard the truth: my daughter couldn’t hold on any longer and was ready to give birth at 11:30. But the two of them deliberately delayed the procedure, resulting in her tragic death and the loss of both lives—my daughter and her unborn child.

Consumed with hatred, I stormed into their house, demanding answers. But instead of remorse, they threw me into a barrel of sulfuric acid. The excruciating pain from the acid, combined with the grief of losing my daughter, left me with both physical and emotional scars, nearly turning me into a ghost.

But God had mercy, and I was given a second chance—reborn to right these wrongs.

"Diane, in this life, I will make sure that scumbag and that woman pay for our lives!"

I took a deep breath and spoke on the phone, "Diane, it's a blessing to have a baby anytime. Don’t delay it. Just give birth when it’s time."

My daughter’s dissatisfied voice echoed on the other end of the line.

"Mom, stop reading nonsense online. Medical care is so advanced now. I’ll have the C-section right at 12 o'clock, and it’ll be over in just ten minutes."

"And Paul didn’t want me to suffer, so he specifically asked an old classmate of his to help. Dr. Holt said everything is fine, so there's nothing to worry about."

Worry? I wasn’t just worried—I knew my daughter was being set up for a tragedy!

I was furious, but I also knew my daughter’s personality too well. No amount of reasoning would change her mind now. If I told her that Wendy and Paul were plotting against her, it would only stress her out, especially when she was about to give birth. She couldn’t handle that kind of shock right now.

I calmed myself down and said, "Which hospital room are you in? I’ll come by soon."

After glancing at the message on my phone, I quickly hung up and rushed into a taxi. As the car sped off, I scrolled through my contacts, calling an old acquaintance at the hospital next door to add my daughter as a patient.

I am a single mother. After my divorce, I raised my daughter on my own. Feeling guilty for her situation, I did everything I could to protect her with love, ensuring she wouldn’t suffer. But because of that, she grew up a bit naive and was easily swayed by Paul's sweet words.

Although I was unhappy with their relationship, my daughter was determined to marry him. He seemed to care for her in every way, always attentive, aside from his charm. I never imagined he was hiding such sinister intentions, planning to harm both my daughter and grandson!

The taxi arrived at the hospital quickly. As soon as I got out, I rushed toward the location my daughter had sent. It was now eleven o'clock. In just half an hour, my daughter would give birth!

Before I reached the delivery room, I spotted Paul standing outside, clearly surprised to see me.

"Mom? Why are you here?" he asked, his tone cautious.

Suppressing my fury, I forced a smile as I walked closer. "Diane is about to give birth. As her mother, I had to be here."

His eyes flickered with uncertainty as he glanced toward the delivery room. "I confiscated her devices. How did she manage to call?"

"Mom, don’t misunderstand. Doctor Holt said it’s best not to use your phone before giving birth—it could affect the delivery," Paul explained, his voice calm. I shot him a cold look and tried to enter the ward, but he blocked my path.

"Mom, Diane is giving birth. You’re not allowed in," he insisted.

Frustrated, I was about to force my way in when a nurse came out and stopped me.

"Please, family members need to remain quiet. There are other women in labor," she said. But I couldn’t help noticing that in other delivery rooms, family members were allowed to accompany the mothers, yet in my daughter’s case, it was forbidden.

It had to be another one of Paul’s schemes!

Seeing I couldn’t get inside, Paul tried to send me away. "Mom, Diane is safe in there. There’s no need to worry."

I shook his hand off angrily. "You can accompany mothers in other rooms, so why not in this one? Is the hospital making special exceptions for us? Where’s your supervisor? Call the leader!"

The nurse shrank back, looking embarrassed. Paul, standing firmly in front of me, tried to soothe the situation. "Mom, why make things hard for the nurse? The doctor said no one could enter. Do you really want to cause a scene?"

As they spoke, several nurses watched me with wary eyes. I felt a surge of anger, wanting to slap Paul, that hypocrite, right in the face.

Ignoring their stares, I shouted into the delivery room, "Diane, pack your things! We’re transferring to another hospital!"