Seven months into my pregnancy, my husband wasn’t feeling well. While accompanying me to a routine prenatal checkup, he conveniently decided to have a checkup himself.
That day, he clutched a report in his trembling hands, his face twisted with fury as he read the words that sealed my fate.
“No wonder we haven’t had a child after all these years.”
“Whore! Whose bastard are you carrying?”
When we returned home, the air in the house felt colder and sharper. My gentle mother-in-law, who had once treated me with kindness, revealed a side of her I had never seen.
Together, she and my husband transformed from cruel mockery to outright violence. They struck me without hesitation and my cries of pain echoed in the house as they poured boiling soup over my trembling body.
The agony they inflicted was unimaginable, but their hatred knew no bounds. In the end, their brutality took everything from me. I lost the baby I had carried so lovingly.
My husband, with a cold, lifeless expression, picked up the tiny, lifeless fetus. He held it high, his eyes dark with madness and then, with terrifying force, he smashed it to the ground before me.
“I’m sending you and this bastard straight to hell!” he growled, his voice dripping with venom.
Through my tears, I managed a faint, bitter smile. “As you wish.”
——
We had similar upbringings, my husband and I. Two years of marriage had passed and until this pregnancy, we had remained childless. Now, even that fragile hope was gone.
The day I found out I was pregnant, my husband and mother-in-law were ecstatic and threw a big feast.
"The Harrington Family finally has an heir!"
Upon hearing the news, my husband, Maximilian Harrington, shed his cold demeanor. He pulled me into his arms, his eyes shimmering with tears. Yet, disgust churned in my chest and I kept my silence.
For two long years of marriage without a child, I had endured the biting remarks of his family. Behind closed doors, they sneered, branding me a barren woman incapable of bearing a child. Now that I was pregnant, their attitudes turned on a dime.
My mother-in-law transformed into the picture of doting care. Maximilian became the husband's dreams, which were made of attentiveness and affection. Each morning, I awoke to the aroma of chicken soup wafting from the kitchen. If hunger struck, an array of snacks and fruit awaited me at my side.
"Darling, from this moment forward, you and our baby are my everything," Maximilian declared, his voice laced with a conviction that might have moved anyone else. "I will protect both of you, always."
But his promises fell on deaf ears. I remained unmoved by their newfound affection, seeing it for what it truly was: convenient and hollow.
Over the past two years, when I hadn’t conceived, my mother-in-law secretly sought another woman for Maximilian, desperate to ensure the continuation of their family line.
Silently, I resolved that once the baby was born, I would walk away. During what would be the happiest time for his family, I would divorce Maximilian and take the child with me.
Even before the baby’s arrival, the Harringtons began their preparations in earnest. Baby clothes and toys, both for boys and girls, filled the nursery. A nanny was hired before the first cries of my child could echo in the house.
"Daughter-in-law, the baby in your belly is the lifeblood of this family," my mother-in-law declared. "Even if we all perish, the baby must remain safe."
The Harrington Family treated the unborn child as their most precious treasure, yet I knew the truth. Their affection was for the child, not for me.
One day, Maximilian accompanied me to the hospital for a routine checkup. Feeling unwell himself, he decided to consult the doctor as well. When I stepped out of my appointment, I found him standing with a medical report in hand. His face was thunderous and his gaze burned with fury.
"What’s wrong?" I asked cautiously, sensing the storm brewing within him.
Maximilian trembled with anger, his knuckles white as he crushed the report before flinging it at me. The paper struck my face with a sting that left me reeling.
"What’s wrong?" he thundered. "Margaret, see for yourself!"
The pain from his outburst sent me staggering. I bent down, my trembling fingers picking up the discarded report from the cold, tiled floor.
The result on the paper was unmistakable. "Infertile!"
I stared at the word, frozen as if a bolt of lightning had struck me. All these years, I had been the picture of a loyal wife, never straying, never so much as glancing at another man. Yet here I stood, clutching a report that threatened to unravel my world.
When we returned home, my mother-in-law’s mask of kindness shattered. Without warning, she slapped me across the face. The sharp sting made me cry out as I staggered backward, clutching my cheek in disbelief.
I turned to Maximilian, hoping for a shred of support, but he stood rooted in place, his expression cold, his gaze void of the warmth he once feigned.
"Whore," my mother-in-law spat, her words cutting deeper than the slap. "Tell me, whose child are you carrying?"
Maximilian sneered, his voice dripping with venom as he finally spoke. "Yes, Margaret. Whose child is it?" His affection had evaporated, replaced by cold, seething contempt that made my blood run cold.
