I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, my hands pressed to my stomach as if I could hold the miracle inside me in place.
The doctor’s words still rang in my ears—I was pregnant after five miscarriages. I couldn’t wait to tell my husband Jaxon about it on our anniversary today.
A nurse entered. She wore a new badge. “Mrs. Jones?” she asked, glancing down at a stack of files. “We just need you to sign a few forms for your file.”
She handed me a folder, the label on the tab reading Jones—Maternity in hurried handwriting. I opened it, expecting to see my name, but instead, I saw Hannah Clarke printed at the top. My heart skipped. Why was Hannah’s file here?
Confused, I flipped through the papers. It was a pregnancy confirmation—Hannah was pregnant. My best friend. How? When she told me she couldn't get pregnant because she was sick? Why didn't she tell me when we promised that there were no secrets.
I read further, searching for something—anything—that made sense. The father’s name was Jaxon Jones. My hands started to shake.
“What is this?” I whispered, staring at the words as if they might rearrange themselves into something less cruel.
The nurse frowned, looking flustered. “Oh—are you not Miss Hannah? I’m sorry, the Jones files were all clipped together...” She trailed off, checking the folder again. “You said your husband is Mr. Jaxon Jones, and when I saw the Jones name... I thought—Jones’s wife, Hannah, right? Or are you not...”
My blood ran cold. I felt the color drain from my face, the room spinning around me.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the nurse said quickly, reaching for the folder, her hands trembling. “I must have made a mistake. I’m new here, and the files were mixed up. I'll check for yours...”
But it was too late. The damage was done. I had seen enough. My world tilted, the edges of my vision blurring, and I felt myself slipping, weightless and numb.
The last thing I saw before everything went black was the nurse’s panicked face and the scattered papers—my happiness unraveling with every fluttering page.
When I woke up, everything was blurry—voices, shapes, the sterile brightness of the hospital. My head throbbed. I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavy.
Outside the door, voices drifted in, muffled but urgent.
“She’s here at the hospital, Jaxon,” Hannah whispered, her voice trembling. “She must have seen us with our appointment. What if she tells your grandfather about our affair? What are we supposed to do?”
“Calm down,” Jaxon replied, “Even if she saw us, we can just deny it. I already paid everyone now to hide your files, and even made that nurse fired, so Beatrice won’t ask her anymore. She won’t have proof. We’ll say she’s crazy… she’s always been fragile and you know how she had anxiety, everyone knows that, so we can use it against her.”
My breath caught. My hands clenched the edge of the cot, knuckles white.
“She's also pregnant with your child again.” Hannah’s voice broke, raw with fear. “What if she learns the truth—that we’re the reason she keeps having miscarriages? That we’ve been using those miscarried babies for my infertility treatments? Your grandfather likes her—he’ll favor her if she finds out… and you’ll lose the inheritance!”
“Sssh, my love. She’ll never know I was poisoning her. She wouldn’t even suspect, so let's just do it again. And she’ll never discover what I have planned for her birthday. That’s why I’m pushing for the yacht celebration. She’s terrified of water. We’ll push her overboard… and she’ll die. We’ll finally be happy. You’re pregnant with my child now so we don’t need her anymore. She was just an experiment. Let's just pretend and deny if she asked.”
“Fine,” Hannah snapped, “But make sure we end her now, Jaxon. I’m tired of hiding. I want the world to know that we love each other, that we’re together. No more secrets.”
“Of course, we do,” Jaxon replied, “She’s just someone my grandfather wanted me to marry so we could get their company. That’s all she ever was. And you were wrong about one thing, Hannah,” he said, a cruel edge to his voice. “Grandpa doesn’t really favor her. That was a lie, too.”
I felt the air leave my lungs. For years, I’d believed Jaxon’s grandfather, Mateo, liked me. He’d always greeted me with a warm smile, shared stories about my parents, and pressed my hands in his, promising I was family now.
I thought those moments meant something. Maybe, after everything I’d lost, I’d found a place to belong.
I remembered the times Mateo had invited me to sit beside him at family dinners, the way he’d quietly slipped me gifts and whispered encouragement. I thought he saw me, understood the pain of losing my parents, the loneliness that clung to me like a second skin. I thought he cared.
But Jaxon’s next words shattered every memory.
“Grandpa just pities her because her parents died. He wanted to get her inheritance but that fucking bitch just wouldn’t hand it to us yet, so grandpa was being patient with her. After all, Grandpa was the reason her parents died in that accident.”
