After losing three children in a row, Devon Fox's wife was pregnant again. Everyone figured he'd be more careful than ever, praying day and night for the baby to arrive safely. But when he got the news from the prenatal checkup, despair seized him, and right there, amid the horrified gasps of onlookers, he plunged a knife into Olivia Stevens's stomach.

That day, the Stevens family summoned the country's top medical resources. Miraculously, both lives were saved.

In the ICU, Olivia, now out of danger, pushed past everyone trying to hold her back and wrapped her trembling arms around Devon. "Devon, how could you do something so reckless?"

Devon, still dazed, shoved her away. His words came out slurred, like he was in a fog. "I've already lost three children. Why can't you just leave me alone?" He lurched forward, trying to shove against Olivia's stomach. "It's better he doesn't exist at all than for you to take him away to suffer again!" His voice was thick with pain.

For five long years, Devon had endured the loss of three children. He'd convinced himself he was cursed with a streak of bad luck. Time and time again, he'd stood outside the operating room full of hope, only to watch Olivia emerge, pale and trembling, whispering that their baby was stillborn.

The relentless blows had driven him into a deep depression, pushing him to the brink. More than once, he'd contemplated ending it all. Only Olivia's constant presence during those pitch-black nights had kept him going. Everyone praised her devotion to him—and Devon believed it, too.

Until last week. That was when he crossed paths with Pedro Snyder, Olivia's student. Pedro waved a stack of experimental data at him, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Thanks, Professor. Without your generous donation of your three kids for my research, I'd never have gotten such impressive results for my thesis."

Devon stood frozen. His eyes locked on the report in Pedro's hand as if he'd been struck by lightning. His three children? Experiments? Thesis data? Each word stabbed into his heart like a knife.

He couldn't recall how he'd shoved Pedro aside and stumbled toward Olivia's office. But as he neared the door, voices drifted out.

"Olivia, have you lost your mind? You're seriously planning to trick Devon into having more 'stillborn' babies just to feed Pedro's experiments?" "If he finds out you sent those three newborns straight to Pedro's lab—one ending up mentally disabled and the other two meeting tragic ends—do you think he could ever forgive you?"

An icy chill swept through him. Through the crack in the door, he saw Olivia casually examining her nails. "Pedro is my student. I'm responsible for him." "Relax. This is the last time. Once Pedro wins that award for his experiment, I'll make it up to Devon with a healthy kid."

Her cold indifference was the last straw. In an instant, all the love they'd once shared turned into a sick joke. He snapped. He burst into the room, screaming that he'd expose Pedro and make them pay.

But he'd underestimated Olivia's influence. As a respected college lecturer, she easily twisted the story, painting him as a grief-crazed father driven insane by repeated tragedies. Pedro, meanwhile, came off as the innocent, hardworking student caught up in the mess.

Remembering it all, Devon clenched his jaw and glared at Olivia with pure hatred. But Olivia's expression was unreadable. "Devon, you're rambling again," she sighed, her eyes swimming with pity—like a wife tormented by her husband's anguish.

"This time, I'll be extra careful during the pregnancy. Our child will be perfectly fine." Liar! Devon's eyes burned into her.

Olivia's eyes flickered, but before she could respond, a ringtone cut through the silence. She glanced at her phone and stepped outside to take the call, making sure no one overheard.

Through the door, Devon caught snippets: "experiment," "subject," "delay." A cold wave of dread washed over him. When Olivia hung up and came back, she took his hand, her eyes briefly evasive. "Devon, the doctor says your mental state is unstable. You need more tests."

Her words sank in, and Devon shuddered violently. More tests? She clearly meant to turn him into another guinea pig for Pedro's experiments!

Fear and fury erupted inside him. "Olivia, have you completely lost it?!" He shook her off and frantically punched the call button beside the bed. "I want a divorce!"

The sharp shriek of the call button was cut off by a slender hand. Olivia Stevens clamped onto Devon Fox, her grip cold and unrelenting as ice.

"Devon, knock it off," she said, her voice hard.

The door swung open and the doctor on rounds stepped in. A surge of hope shot through Devon. He grabbed at the chance, his voice a desperate rasp. "Doctor, please, help me! They've lost their minds—they're trying to hurt me!"

Olivia cut in, cool and commanding. "Devon, remember where you are. This is the Stevens family clinic."

The words hit him like a bucket of ice water. Realization washed over him, making him shiver. His eyes went wide with horror as Olivia addressed the doctor with absolute authority. "Bring the sedative."

"But... he has pre-existing injuries. This drug could trigger a severe reaction," the doctor protested, nervously wiping his forehead. But he couldn't resist; he passed the syringe to Olivia with shaking hands.

"You can't do this to me, Olivia Stevens!" Devon's voice crackled with panic and despair.

In the murky light where shadows bled into darkness, Olivia held the needle, its tip gleaming with menace. "Devon, you remember last time. Even after you fell ten stories, I still pulled you back. This is just a tiny little shot."

As the mixture of pain and drug seared through his veins, Devon's scream strangled in his throat, trapped. His vision smeared, and Olivia's voice faded into nothing.

"Pedro, I'll have him over to you right away."

Sharp agony jolted Devon awake. Blinding fluorescent lights bore down on him; he was strapped to a surgical table, fighting for air.

"Awake now, are we?"

A mocking voice drifted from behind. Pedro Snyder emerged from the shadows, a smug grin twisting his lips as he fiddled with lab instruments.

"I never thought Olivia would hand you over so willingly for my experiments," he sneered.

"You murdered my children, you psychotic bastard!" Devon shouted, his eyes blazing with hatred for Pedro.

"Relax. It's just a little test..." Pedro's grin stretched wider, venomous.

Casually, he pressed an electrode pad against Devon's temple. The next second—

"Ahhh—!"

Devon's scream tore through the room as the electric current ripped into him, a thousand needles drilling into his brain. But even that agony was nothing compared to the searing torment in his limbs. He tried to cry out again, but only ragged breaths escaped.

Pedro gave a low chuckle, scribbling notes like it was nothing. "Extreme stimuli really do trigger those self-preservation mechanisms. You're the perfect subject, Master."

Devon couldn't hear a word. His world was a cocoon of pain, his spirit shattered into pieces. How could Pedro do this to him? What nightmare had swallowed his three unseen children?

Hours bled by, leaving Devon a broken shell. But Pedro's "experiment" was far from done. A long needle pierced his skin, draining vial after vial of blood.

Through the night, Devon teetered on the edge of consciousness, every thought drowned by pain. Pedro's smile never wavered as Devon's pleas echoed through the lab. Holding a gleaming scalpel to Devon's throat, Pedro taunted, "I swear, this is the last one, okay?"

"No! Pedro Snyder!"

As the blade edged closer, desperation lit a fire in Devon. He grabbed the scalpel with his bare hands, ignoring the flesh tearing, the skin splitting. Pain threatened to swallow him whole, but he held on with everything he had.

Shock flickered across Pedro's face. "You..."

Summoning what strength remained, Devon drove the blade into Pedro with a fierce, determined thrust.

"Arghhh—!" Pedro's scream split the air as he stumbled back.

Devon scrambled off the bed, bare feet slapping against the freezing floor as he bolted, finally bursting out onto a road. Like a drowning man clutching a lifeline, he reached for passersby.

"Help me, please, somebody help me!"

Then, a soft hand settled on his shoulder.

"Devon, where do you think you're going?"