I woke up to pain so sharp it stole my breath. The moment I tried to move, nausea surged violently through me and my vision blurred. A broken sound tore from my throat before I could stop it.
“Ah—”
I looked down. The sheets beneath me were soaked in red.
For a second, my mind went blank, refusing to understand what my eyes were seeing. Then panic crashed into me all at once. My hands shook as I pressed them against my abdomen. Heat. Wetness. A burning sting that made my entire body seize.
My incision throbbed violently, swollen and tight, as if it were tearing open from the inside.
“I need help,” I whispered, my throat dry. Louder this time. “Help! Please—someone!”
No answer. The room was eerily silent.
Dizziness washed over me as I reached for the call button beside the bed—nothing. My heart pounded wildly. My phone. I needed my phone.
I forced myself upright, biting down on a scream as pain ripped through my stomach. My legs trembled violently as I slid off the bed, blood dripping down my thighs and staining the floor beneath me.
With shaking hands, I grabbed my phone and dialed Joseph.
“Joseph,” I sobbed into voicemail, my voice barely holding together. “I’m bleeding. Please—something’s wrong.”
I wrapped my robe tightly around myself and staggered into the hallway, clinging to the wall as each step sent agony crashing through my body.
Halfway down the stairs, I heard it.
A cry. My heart stopped.
I followed the sound into the living room—and froze.
My baby was lying on the couch. He was crying helplessly, his tiny face scrunched up, his fists clenched tightly as his cries grew more frantic by the second. No nanny. No maid. No one.
“Oh my God,” I gasped.
Ignoring the pain, I rushed forward and scooped him into my arms, clutching him tightly to my chest as tears streamed down my face.
“Shh… shh, Mommy’s here,” I whispered desperately, rocking him. “I’m here. Please don’t cry.”
But my hands were shaking too much. My body felt weak and unstable. My breath came out ragged and uneven.
“What are you doing?!” Jana’s voice sliced through the room. She stormed toward me, her face twisted in fury. “Are you insane? Why is the baby crying like that?”
“I—I just found him here,” I said, my voice breaking. “No one was with him. He was alone—”
“Liar!” she snapped. “You’re the one who upset him. Look at you—you can’t even hold him properly.”
“I’m bleeding,” I cried, tears spilling freely now. “Please, something’s wrong with my incision. I need to go to the hospital.”
Before she could respond, hurried footsteps echoed behind her.
Danica rushed in. The moment her eyes landed on the baby in my arms, her expression changed instantly.
“Oh my God,” she cried. “The baby—he’s convulsing! What did you do to him?!” Danica shouted, panic etched perfectly across her face. “Why would you shake him like that?!”
“I didn’t!” I screamed. “I just picked him up—please, I swear—”
Joseph appeared then, his face already dark with anger.
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.
“She hurt him,” Danica said immediately, snatching the baby from my arms. “I walked in and saw her shaking him. He was convulsing.”
“That’s not true!” I cried. “Joseph, listen to me. I’m bleeding. I need help. My C-section is infected.”
He didn’t even look at me.
“You can’t even take care of a baby properly,” he snapped. “I knew it. I knew you weren’t fit. It’s a good thing Danica will be the mother of our child.”
“I’m sick,” I pleaded as my knees buckled. “Please. I need a doctor. I’m bleeding so much—”
Joseph was already barking orders. “Call the doctor. Get the car ready. Take the baby now.”
They rushed past me.
I sank onto the couch, shaking uncontrollably, watching as they disappeared with my child.
So I called a taxi.
The hospital lights blurred as they wheeled me in. Voices overlapped. Someone pressed hard against my abdomen. The pain was unbearable.
When I came to, everything was white. My body felt heavy. Numb. I couldn’t move.
Voices floated above me—distant but familiar.
Joseph.
“…kill her now,” he said calmly. “Just say she died from excessive blood loss.”
Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision.
For a moment, I thought this was death. Then the pain returned.
My fingers twitched. My eyelids fluttered.
I sucked in a shallow breath.
Light burned through my lashes.
“Paula.”
I forced my eyes open. Maxon sat beside my bed.
“You’re awake,” he said quietly, relief flickering in his eyes. “Good. You scared the hell out of my doctors. You were close to dying. I got you out before Joseph’s doctor finished the job. You’re safe now.”
Panic surged. “My baby—where is my baby?”
“I know,” Maxon said calmly. “And we will get him back.”
Tears slid down my temples. “Please. Take me to him.”
“Not like this,” he said firmly. “If you go back now, they’ll kill you for real. Let’s get married first—then we take revenge.”
“Okay.”
The marriage happened three days later. Maxon placed a ring on my finger.
I spent the next days planning revenge. Then I heard about their weekend trip to the lakehouse, in which Joseph promised to give me once we have our baby. Yet, he took my baby from me!
That was perfect. I didn’t want to destroy them yet. I wanted to scare them first.
So, I prepared a package. Inside were copies of everything: documents proving Joseph’s affair, medical records, footage of my neglect, and the bloodstained white gown I’d been wearing the night they tried to kill me.
I had it delivered to the lakehouse. Then I watched as the delivery man handed the package to Joseph.
He was about to say something when the delivery man said, "Sir, it's a package from Miss Paula."
