MY HUSBAND CRIPPLED ME SO MY SISTER COULD BE MAFIA QUEEN

Marcella's POV

I always imagined the day I gave birth would be one of the happiest days of my life, surrounded by warmth, love, and the people who mattered most to me.

In my mind, I pictured my husband by my side, his strong hand holding mine as he whispered encouraging words and kissed my forehead between contractions.

I thought my sister would be there too, sharing in my joy, her eyes brimming with happy tears. But reality was cruel, and the truth hit me harder than I ever thought possible.

When the contractions started, I was alone. There was no loving hand to hold and no comforting presence to keep the fear at bay.

Titus, my husband—the man who once promised to love me—was nowhere to be found.

His assistant, a cold, indifferent middle aged woman with a clipped tone, had informed me he was “unavailable” due to an important business meeting.

“Please call him— beg him, just tell him anything, our baby is on the way and I'm so scared” I told his assistant, who ended the call before I could even finish.

A business meeting, as if that somehow justified his absence on the day our child was meant to come into the world.

Vynessa, my sister, wasn’t any better. She hadn’t even answered my calls. I had scrolled through my feed earlier and seen her posts, bright pictures of sun-kissed beaches and cocktails, flaunting her tropical vacation without a care in the world.

They were living their lives, wrapped up in each other’s company while I fought through the waves of pain alone.

The contractions came fast and hard, each one more agonizing than the last. Every time my belly tightened, I gasped, tears springing to my eyes as I struggled to breathe through the pain.

I dialed Titus’s number again, desperation rising in my chest, but it went straight to voicemail.

I sent text after text, begging him to come, praying he would drop everything and rush to my side, but there was nothing.

I was on my own and with no other choice, I forced my trembling body into action. I stumbled toward the car, wincing with each step as the pain tore through me, sharp and unforgiving.

My vision blurred from the tears clouding my eyes, but I gritted my teeth and kept going. I had to get to the hospital. I had to be strong—for my baby.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I drove through the contractions, my knuckles turning white as I tried to focus on the road ahead.

“Marcella, stay strong —you’ve to stay strong for your baby please” I chided myself as I struggled to swallow my painful whimpers.

The pressure in my abdomen was unbearable, and I could feel the baby pushing lower with each agonizing wave.

A strangled cry escaped my lips when another contraction hit, nearly making me lose control of the car.

My entire body shook as I fought to stay upright, beads of sweat rolling down my face, but I kept going. I had no choice.

And then, halfway to the hospital, disaster struck. The dashboard lights flickered, and before I could process what was happening, the engine sputtered and died.

Thick, acrid smoke began rising from the hood, filling the air with the stench of burning oil.

I slammed my hands against the steering wheel, panic clawing at my throat as I tried to restart the engine, but it was useless.

“No, no, no,” I whispered frantically, tears blurring my vision as the car refused to budge.

I didn’t even have time to process my fear before a loud, thunderous boom shattered the air.

The impact came out of nowhere, slamming into me like a wrecking ball and sending the car spinning wildly out of control as my car somersaulted into the air.

I screamed as metal screeched and glass shattered around me, and before I knew it, I was upside down, dangling from the seatbelt with blood trickling down my face.

For a moment, everything went still. My ears rang from the deafening crash, and my vision swam as I struggled to make sense of what had just happened. But then the pain came, sharp and searing, and I knew something was terribly wrong.

The smell hit me first—the sickening stench of burning flesh—My flesh.

A scream ripped from my throat as I felt the flames licking at my skin, but my body wouldn’t move.

I tried to unbuckle the seatbelt, but my hands were too weak, trembling violently as I fought against the crushing weight of the wreckage.

My chest heaved with ragged, desperate breaths, and I could feel my pulse pounding wildly in my ears.

And then, amidst the chaos and the pain, one thought consumed me.

My baby. Was my baby still alive?

The panic was overwhelming, threatening to suffocate me as I reached a trembling hand toward my stomach.

I could barely breathe, barely think, but I had to know. I had to be sure but Just as my fingers brushed against my belly, the darkness closed in, dragging me down into endless darkness.