Amybeth’s POV
Shannon immediately blocked my path. She reached out to grab me, and I reflexively shook her hand off.
She smirked in triumph, then deliberately threw herself backward with a heavy thud.
“Shannon!”
Bolton shoved me aside and rushed toward her, carefully helping her up as she cried out in pain.
His push was so forceful that I hit the floor hard.
If I hadn’t curled around my belly on instinct, the consequences would’ve been unimaginable.
I already knew Bolton only saw the child in my belly as Shannon’s experimental subject, but even so, a cold tremor ran through me.
Before I could say anything, my mother suddenly marched forward and slapped me across the face.
The sharp crack echoed. Blood quickly spilled from the corner of my mouth, my vision spinning.
“Bitch!” she shouted. “I just warned you, and you still dared to lay a hand on Shannon! If anything happens to the baby she’s carrying, just you wait!”
Her face twisted into something monstrous.
Only then did her words sink in; everyone already knew Shannon was pregnant with Bolton’s child. Everyone… except me.
I was her biological daughter, yet she chose to stand with Shannon.
At that moment, my heart went cold and hollow.
By then, Bolton had already coaxed Shannon into calming down.
Then he walked over to me, expression blank, ignoring my bleeding mouth and my eight-month rounded belly. Without the slightest hesitation, he yanked me up from the floor.
The pain made me gasp, but he didn’t care.
The next second, he forced me down on my knees right in front of the dead body of that little toy poodle.
Before I could even struggle, he slammed my head down.
“Bolton… let go of me…”
I forced the words out, my throat tight and trembling.
He only gave me a cold glance before pressing down even harder.
With a sickening thud, my forehead smashed against the floor.
The hit made my head spin, nausea rising uncontrollably as I dry-heaved.
When he finally released me, I collapsed onto the floor like a dead fish.
He looked down at me—pathetic, heaving, covered in humiliation—and ordered the bodyguards.
“I’m taking Shannon to the hospital. Keep an eye on this woman. Make her apologize to the puppy ninety-nine times, then make her dig a grave and bury him herself. And remember, she’s not allowed to use any tools.”
He gave me one last calm look.
“Amybeth, you need this lesson. Cooperate with them. Don’t make things harder than they already are.”
Then he carried Shannon out of the villa.
My mother, still fussing over Shannon, followed them without looking back.
I shut my eyes tightly. I hadn’t even managed to get up when the bodyguards grabbed my shoulders and forced me down again.
No one spoke. Only the sound of my knees slamming against the empty villa floor echoed again and again.
By the time warm blood gushed down my face, the ordeal finally ended.
I lay there, my forehead torn open, the wound so shredded it was almost raw meat. Blood streamed down my cheek and dripped onto the floor—grotesque and terrifying.
“Ma’am, you still need to go to the backyard to dig the grave. Please forgive our disrespect.”
They dragged me out to the garden and forced my hands into the dirt, making me dig one handful at a time.
When everything was done, my hands were a bloody mess, bone showing through torn skin.
Shaking violently, I used the only finger I could still move, my thumb, to dial an emergency call.
The moment I finished giving the address, my strength finally gave out.
I collapsed on the ground and lost consciousness.
When I woke up again, I was in the hospital. Bolton was nowhere in sight.
The attending doctor told me that I was lucky—they got me here just in time. The baby was still alive. But I needed at least half a month of hospitalization before I could be discharged.
Just then, my phone buzzed. It was an updated video on Shannon’s Instagram.
I didn’t want to look, but my hand slipped and the video opened.
In it, Bolton gently kissed her belly, his eyes full of tenderness.
The caption read: [Baby, with a daddy who loves you this much, you’ll be so happy when you’re born!]
A shock went through me. Even while I was unconscious, bleeding, fighting for my life… Bolton never stayed by my side. This video shattered the very last sliver of hope I had left.
A single tear slid from the corner of my eye. I swore it would be the last tear I ever shed for Bolton!
I picked up my phone and sent Gibeon a message along with the hospital address.
[Gibeon, I can’t wait a month anymore. Just half a month. Come pick me up then.]
A second later, his reply came. [Okay.]
[Also, about Bolton and Shannon causing your multiple miscarriages. We’ve already found evidence. We’re securing everything now. What do you want to do next?]
Seeing his message brought a faint warmth back to my chest. I typed my reply.
[The day you come to pick me up, we’ll execute everything we planned.]
In half a month, I'll be leaving this city forever and end my marriage with Bolton once and for all!
The fire of vengeance burned in my eyes. This time, it would be for me and for the children they stole from me!
