Billionaire Jonathan Farley suffered from infertility. Desperate for an heir, he kept over a hundred women at his manor like songbirds in gilded cages.
He made his terms clear: whoever bore him a child would receive a billion-dollar reward.
A year later, ten of those women gave birth in succession.
Every single one was dismembered and buried alive. The crime? Infidelity.
Now, a month after them, I'd finally delivered.
But when I saw what I'd given birth to, I burst into tears.
Those women who'd been buried alive for cheating—at least they'd produced human babies.
Mine weren't even human.
They were five tiny kittens.
1.
The private physician attending the birth fainted on the spot.
Only my nanny Joan Chavez remained, her eyes bulging as she stammered:
"Miss Henson, wh-what is this?"
What is this?
I wanted to know too!
How could a person give birth to cats?!
I pinched my thigh hard, praying this was a nightmare.
But it hurt. God, it hurt.
This wasn't a dream.
I was finished.
The memory of my ten predecessors' fates flashed through my mind. I collapsed against the pillows, too horrified for tears.
A year ago, I'd been brought to this lavish manor along with over a hundred other women from across the country.
That day, Jonathan Farley announced to all of us:
Whoever could give him a child would receive one billion dollars.
And so the desperate race began.
Fertility drugs. Acupuncture. Prayers to every deity imaginable.
We tried everything. No one conceived.
Until a month later, when Victoria Swanson—the plainest-looking among us—suddenly announced her pregnancy.
Jonathan was overjoyed. He visited her daily, showered her with attention, sent jewels and gifts flowing into her room like water.
Over the following month, nine more women confirmed their pregnancies.
I was the last one Jonathan had slept with.
And it had only happened because he'd stumbled into the wrong room, drunk and barely conscious.
I'd assumed I had no chance. Then, the next month, my test came back positive.
Just as every expectant mother was praying for a safe delivery, Victoria gave birth first.
A boy.
Everyone envied her. She was about to claim the billion-dollar prize.
Instead, they severed her hands and feet and buried her alive—along with her baby.
The reason: she'd cheated.
The child wasn't Jonathan's.
After that, the other women delivered one by one.
One by one, they were discovered to have secretly conceived with other men.
One by one, they were dismembered and buried.
I hadn't understood how Jonathan caught them—until my own labor began.
Jonathan waited outside my door with doctors and bodyguards.
The moment a child was born, a paternity test was performed.
Those ten women had failed the test. They were disposed of on the spot.
Yes, they'd taken the risk of getting pregnant by other men for the money. But I hadn't!
So why had I given birth to five kittens?!
Right now, Jonathan and his men stood guard just outside my door.
What do I do?
Those other women at least got a paternity test.
I'd just delivered five fuzzy little kittens.
One look, and Jonathan would grind me and my babies to dust.
As I spiraled into panic, his cold voice cut through the door:
"Why has the room gone quiet?"
Footsteps. He was coming in—
The door was about to open. Terror seized me.
I scrambled to grab the squirming kittens and shoved them into Joan's arms, my voice barely a whisper:
"Quick! Hide them in the trash bin!"
Joan stared at me in shock.
