My Baby's Grave Became Their Doom

Sadie's POV

"Tell me who the real father is, or I'll use this bastard's heart to save someone else."

That was what my husband of seven years said as he tied our six-year-old son to an operating table and drained 800ml of his blood.

My son’s face had gone ghostly pale. Tears filled his eyes as he looked up at his father, silently begging for mercy.

“Daddy… I’m so cold…”

But Denton Francis didn’t even blink. He even coldly said, “Keep going.”

He didn’t want to see the boy cry, so he injected him with a high dose of anesthesia, knocking him unconscious.

I sobbed and begged him to stop. But all I got in return was a look of pure disgust.

“That child isn’t mine,” he snapped. “I ran a test. You were already pregnant when you married me.”

Then he walked away without a second thought to buy a birthday gift for the woman he truly loved, Melanie Conner.

By the time I rushed back to the hospital, my son’s blood was drained, and his heart had been cut out. All that was left of him was a handful of ashes.

On the way home, shattered with grief, I was hit by a car going the wrong way.

When I woke up, the doctor told me I had been three months pregnant, but I’d lost the baby.

In seven years of marriage, two lives were already lost, and I was also injured.

I wiped my tears, telling myself I’d throw everything into my career, only to find out my assets were already transferred to Melanie's name.

Even the savings I set aside for the kids were gone. He tricked me into signing them over under the guise of charity, only for Melanie's daughter to benefit.

I stared at my son’s ashes and the smug look on Melanie’s face.

Then I made a call.

“Grandma, I’ve changed my mind. I’m coming back in ten days. I’ll help you with our family business.”

They took everything from me. Now, they’d pay double.

My career. My pain. My loss.

In ten days, they’d find out what happened when you crossed a genius programmer and the heir to the world’s largest business empire.

“You should’ve known,” Denton said coldly, sitting outside the operating room, smoke curling from his lips. “From the moment you lied to me, this bastard child was never going to make it out alive.”

I tried to make out my son, Mick Francis, strapped to the surgical table, but the screen was too blurry. All I could see was the bright red blood draining from his little body, filling two already swollen blood bags.

Tears streamed down my face, bitter as they reached my lips.

Denton knew Mick was born premature. He knew our boy had always been weak, needing monthly serum therapy and specialized nutrition just to survive to age five.

How could his small body withstand that much blood loss?

He was already pale as death. His breathing, once shallow and quick, was now slow and almost gone.

“Please… don’t do this to him,” I choked, trying to steady my voice. “Mick is just a child. Denton, whatever happened between us, don’t take it out on the child.”

He exhaled smoke, his eyes colder than before.

Then he raised two fingers, and the monitor suddenly zoomed in. Only then did I see Mick’s pale face, and he saw me too.

His lips trembled, barely moving.

“M…mom… I'm cold…”

“Don’t be afraid, baby. Mommy’s coming to take you home.”

My vision blurred with tears as I spoke those words. A screech of brakes rang in my ears as I slammed my car to a stop in the middle of the road. Horns blared and curses flew, but I didn’t care.

Nothing mattered more than Mick.

"Only 200ml left until he hits his limit. Still won’t talk?" Denton threatened.

Irritated with the constant question, I barked, “What do you want me to say?!”

“Where did you take Melanie’s daughter?” he insisted again.

That name again. That woman again.

His first love, the woman he’d loved for eighteen years. Ever since she came back with a daughter last year, my life had been turned upside down.

I should’ve known she was behind all of this.

“I don’t know! Just stop it! Mick will die! Stop this, I beg you. He’s your son, too. How can you do this?"

"You kidnapped Jewel. And now you're pretending you're innocent? And besides, you know better than anyone that Mick might not be my child. You were already pregnant when you married me. But fine. Tell me who the father is, and maybe I’ll spare this little bastard’s life. Otherwise, his heart goes to Jewel.”

I was racing up the hospital stairs to the top floor, eyes locked on Denton’s merciless face.

Word by word, I shouted, “I swear, I never touched Melanie’s daughter!”

Seemingly not hearing anything, he said, “150ml.”

“Daddy… Daddy, I’m cold. I want Mommy. I wanna go home…”

Mick's voice was soft, frail. On the corner of the screen, I saw him trying to lift himself up, his last act of resistance before the end. But it was so weak and hopeless.

Even so, Denton didn’t flinch.

“Too noisy,” he muttered. “Give him another shot. Put him out.”

Just like that, Mick’s small hand, fluttering in the air, dropped.

“Mick!” I shrieked.

“100ml,” Denton said, then grabbed me by the arm and slammed my face against the glass wall of the surgery room. “Take a good look, Sadie. This is what happens to the bastard you gave birth to.”

He sneered. “To be honest, Mick was a good kid. Sweet. Smart. His only curse was having a venomous, filthy woman like you as his mother.”

“50ml. Still not talking?” he whispered heavily in my ear.