He Cooked Our Children for His Adopter Sister's Happiness

Whitney's POV

As a descendant of the Eirian clan, I was born with a rare ability—through intimacy, I could heal others.

That was how I ended up married to David Elledge, a wealthy heir from a powerful family in Washington, D.C., who’d been confined to a wheelchair.

For months, I held him close, day and night, using my gift to cure his illness. Eventually, I gave birth to three eggs—yes, actual eggs. Half a year later, David stood tall once again, healthy and full of life.

But everything fell apart over a single warning I gave to his adopted sister. “Be careful not to break the eggs.”

That night, David told me he was cutting ties with her. He even legally stripped off his surname in hers and swore never to let her return to their family.

He did all of those with no hesitation and even sent me car after car of apology gifts, like he truly meant it.

But one month later, I was invited to a grand family party at their estate.

And that night’s menu was our three children.

David sat at the head of the table with his adopted sister, Andrea Elledge, nestled in his arms. He lit a cigarette and gave a cold laugh as servants rolled out a tray filled with one hundred eggs.

“If you treasure those three little eggs so much,” he said, his voice casual, “why don’t we play a game? Guess which ones are yours. Every time you get it wrong, the kitchen will take one and cook it up for Andrea for extra nourishment.”

——

The event hall was filled with his family members and high-society elites, all eager to watch the show.

“David’s really out for blood tonight,” someone whispered. “How’s she supposed to pick out three eggs by sight? They all look the same!”

“Well, she did make his precious little girl cry over a stupid egg. You see the girl in his arms? That’s the real Mrs. Elledge,” said the other.

“I heard she used to be his adopted sister. But she went off to a monastery to pray for his recovery and returned to secular life. However, because of that egg drama, she got kicked out of the family registry. But look at her now. She can marry David fair and square. What a twist!” scoffed the other.

“If Whitney finds out, she’s going to lose her mind!” the other laughed hard.

Disdainful eyes bore into me from every direction, like thousands of knives slicing across the exposed skin above my gown.

I looked toward the head of the table.

David was gently brushing dust off Andrea’s rosary, holding her like she was made of glass.

“David,” I asked, my voice trembling, “why are you doing this?”

“Oh right,” he said, smirking, “if these eggs really are serpent eggs like you claim, then everyone here should have a taste, don’t you think?”

“And as for who gets to try them first," he trailed off, "that’s up to my little sister. She’ll pick based on whoever she likes best.”

A cold, bitter dread seeped into my bones. I couldn’t stop shaking.

Only then did David finally look at me and give a satisfied smile.

“Whitney, you said you’re a descendant of Eirian, that you gave birth to these three precious eggs to save me. That means you should know them better than anyone.”

Seeing my expression, he mocked, “Don’t tell me… you can’t even recognize your own children? We wouldn’t want our esteemed guests laughing at our family, would we?”

The moment he said that, voices rang out from all corners of the room.

“She claims she can shift into a serpent and lay eggs—no way she can’t tell which are hers!”

“Honestly, even if she’s from the Eirian clan, who the hell lays eggs? She probably made the whole thing up to secure her spot in the family. Well, there's always karma.”

“Anyway, if they crack one open and it’s just a regular chicken egg, what then? Hahaha…”

“Either way, I want to have a taste. But for that to happen, I need to get close to Mrs. Elledge.”

As such, the guests swarmed around Andrea, each one fawning over her, calling her “Mrs. Elledge” like she already had the title.

Meanwhile, I stood at the edge of the crowd, shaking, as I said, “David, I swear I didn’t lie to you! These are our children! Just two weeks more… no, maybe even less—and they’ll hatch…”