He Chose Her Over Our Dead Child
Deidre went to the clinic and learned she was finally pregnant, but her failing heart meant carrying the baby would kill her.
Before she could process the grief, she received an anonymous photo of her husband, Danial, tenderly escorting a heavily pregnant woman into a VIP hospital.
The woman was his cousin, Daria.
Following them, Deidre overheard Danial call her a "sterile decoration," promising to get rid of her while securing a Cayman trust fund for his illegitimate child.
The nightmare only worsened when Daria gloatingly confessed to a horrifying truth.
Daria had stolen the credit for saving Danial in a fire—a heroic act that had actually destroyed Deidre's heart.
Even more sickening, Daria had bribed a doctor two years ago to fake Deidre's ectopic pregnancy, tricking Danial into authorizing the surgery that murdered their perfectly healthy baby daughter.
When a grief-stricken Deidre attacked the murderer, Danial furiously shoved his wife to the ground.
Ignoring her heart spasms and gasps for air, he threw her out into a freezing New York blizzard to die.
Lying in the snow, Deidre's love turned to pure ash as she realized she had sacrificed her body and her child for a blind monster.
But she didn't die that night.
Rescued by Danial's biggest Wall Street rival, Deidre marched into her husband's office the next morning alongside New York's most ruthless divorce lawyer.
"Sign it, or I'll freeze your offshore trust and burn your empire to the ground."
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Chapter 7
Deidre's hand shot out, grabbing Daria's ankle. Her grip was weak, but the desperation in it was terrifying. "What did you say?" she rasped, her voice shaking so badly it was almost unrecognizable. "What do you mean, healthy?"
Daria looked down at Deidre's hand on her ankle with utter disgust. She kicked out, her sharp heel scraping against Deidre's wrist, forcing her to let go. She stepped back, her eyes shining with sadistic glee.
"Two years ago," Daria said slowly, enunciating every syllable, "you were pregnant. And it was a perfectly normal, healthy, viable pregnancy. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that baby."
Deidre's brain felt like it was exploding. The ringing was deafening. She shook her head violently, refusing to accept the words. "No. No, the doctor said it was ectopic. The fallopian tube ruptured. I was bleeding out-"
"The doctor lied," Daria interrupted, her voice cold and hard. "Dr. Eduardo Lamb. I paid him two million dollars to alter your ultrasound images and forge your blood work. He made it look like an ectopic pregnancy."
The room tilted. Deidre's stomach heaved, but there was nothing in it to throw up. She remembered that night. The sudden, agonizing pain. The blood soaking the sheets. The rush to the hospital. The frantic doctors.
"Danial was in Europe," Daria continued, pacing slowly in front of the sofa. "It was so easy. I just had to wait for the 'emergency' to happen, and then Dr. Lamb did the rest. He made it look like your tube had ruptured. He convinced the surgical team that it was a life-or-death situation."
Deidre clutched her stomach, the phantom pain of that night ripping through her. "You killed her. You killed Lily."
"Oh, it gets better," Daria sneered. "Dr. Lamb couldn't just operate without consent. And since Danial was your next of kin, they had to call him. He was on his private jet, flying over the Atlantic."
Daria paused, letting the suspense build. She looked directly into Deidre's eyes. "Danial authorized the surgery. He gave the verbal consent over the satellite phone. With a single word, he signed your daughter's death warrant."
The words hit Deidre like a physical blow to the chest. The air rushed out of her lungs. Danial. It was Danial's voice that had ended Lily's life. He had killed their daughter, not knowing she was perfectly healthy, because Daria had set the trap.
"And just to add a little insurance," Daria added with a shrug, "Dr. Lamb removed your healthy fallopian tube while he was at it. Just to make sure you wouldn't be popping out any more little Ortegas."
A scream ripped from Deidre's throat. It wasn't a human sound. It was the raw, primal howl of a mother who had just learned that her child had been murdered by the people she trusted most. The sound bounced off the walls, piercing through the apartment.
Deidre didn't feel her heart condition. She didn't feel the gash on her arm. She only felt a blinding, all-consuming rage. She exploded off the floor, her body moving before her mind could catch up.
Daria's eyes widened in shock. She hadn't expected Deidre to have any strength left. She stumbled backward, her hands raised.
Deidre grabbed a fistful of Daria's perfect blonde hair. She yanked it hard, dragging Daria's head down. With her other hand, she swung.
Smack.
The sound was deafening. Deidre's palm connected with Daria's cheek with every ounce of strength she possessed. The force of the slap whipped Daria's head to the side.
Daria cried out, her hand flying to her face. Blood immediately started to seep from her lip where her teeth had cut the inside of her cheek.
Deidre didn't stop. She raised her hand again, the rage taking over. Smack. The second slap was harder than the first. She poured all her grief, all her betrayal, all her hatred into that blow.
Daria's eyes rolled back. Her knees buckled. She stumbled backward, her high heel catching on the edge of the rug. She fell sideways, crashing into the sharp corner of the glass coffee table.
Crack.
Daria's forehead hit the heavy glass. She collapsed onto the floor, clutching her head. Blood began to pour from a gash on her temple. She curled into a ball, her hands moving down to her stomach.
"My baby!" Daria shrieked, her voice filled with genuine terror. "The baby! It hurts!"
The bedroom door flew open.
Danial stood in the doorway, his hair disheveled, a silk robe tied loosely around his waist. His eyes were wild, still foggy with sleep, but they quickly focused on the scene in front of him.
He saw Daria, crumpled on the floor, bleeding from the head, crying and holding her pregnant belly. He saw Deidre standing over her, her hand raised, her face contorted with fury.
His face drained of color. Then, it twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.
"She's crazy!" Daria screamed, pointing a bloody finger at Deidre. "She attacked me! She's trying to kill my baby!"
Danial moved like a predator. He crossed the room in three long strides, shoving Deidre out of the way. He fell to his knees beside Daria, gathering her into his arms. "Daria! Daria, look at me. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"
Deidre watched him cradle the woman who had murdered his daughter. A hysterical, broken laugh bubbled up from her chest. It was a sound of absolute madness, echoing in the quiet room.
Danial looked up at her, his eyes blazing with hatred. "What the hell is wrong with you? Have you completely lost your mind?"
Deidre stopped laughing. She pointed a trembling finger at Daria. "She's a liar! She lied about the yacht! She killed Lily! She paid the doctor to kill our daughter!"
"I said, shut up!" Danial bellowed. He reached out, his large hands shoving her shoulders with brutal force. She stumbled backward, her feet tangling in the thick rug.
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7.1
The last thing I remembered was the blinding flash of my starship crashing. But instead of a rescue crew, I woke up tied to a wooden post, surrounded by hostile beastmen.
My universal translator kicked in just in time to hear their priestess, Chelsea, declare that I was a cursed demon who ruined their hunt. To save the clan from winter starvation, I was to be burned alive.
The flames were already blistering my legs, and jagged stones hurled by the crowd gashed my forehead. I barely negotiated a three-day reprieve to find them food, venturing into the deadly primeval forest.
I found a massive supply of wild potatoes and even gained the protection of Bronson, a terrifyingly powerful saber-toothed tiger beastman.
But Chelsea wouldn't stop.
She labeled my food as poisonous, tried to sentence me to starve in a penitent's cave, and when my agricultural knowledge proved her wrong, she invoked an ancient law. She incited the tribe's savage warriors to fight over me, turning me into breeding property.
I was a scientist offering them endless food, yet their primitive ignorance and one woman's vicious jealousy kept pushing me toward a brutal end. I was terrified, completely powerless against their monstrous physical strength.
As five ruthless challengers drew their bone axes to claim me, I begged Bronson to leave me and run.
Instead, he pulled me against his scarred chest and kissed me fiercely in front of the entire clan.
"She is my mate," he roared, unleashing a soul-crushing aura. "Anyone who wants her, come at me together."
9.3
My father ordered me to marry into the cursed Vaughn family.
Their heirs were rumored to die young from a mysterious genetic agony. My sister Kayden laughed, saying she wasn't going to waste her youth planning a funeral. So, I became the sacrificial lamb.
When I refused, my father slammed his hand on the table and threatened to throw my dead mother's ashes into the city dump.
"You are a struggling actress with no money and no power. You have no choice," he told me coldly.
To make matters worse, my own agent drugged my drink at a business dinner, trying to sell my body to a sleazy investor just to secure project funding.
I was completely cornered, suffocating under the weight of their cruelty. I couldn't understand how my own flesh and blood could be so vicious, treating me like a worthless pawn to be traded and discarded.
But none of them knew that while escaping the drug-laced dinner, I crashed directly into the terrifying Vaughn heir, Algot.
When his glowing crimson eyes locked onto me during a violent episode of his cursed pain, we discovered an impossible truth: my physical touch was the only cure for his agony.
Looking at the dark bruises he accidentally left on my neck, I chose not to run. Instead, I pulled out the private business card he gave me and dialed his number.
"You need me," I whispered to the dangerous billionaire. "And I am going to use you to destroy them all."
9.1
Amélie Rousseau grows up believing that honesty, hard work, and faith will save her from poverty.
Paris proves her wrong.
Despite her brilliance, every door stays closed-until the day Clara Duval, the woman Amélie once helped, steals her future through lies, favors, and corruption. When Amélie dares to speak up, the system silences her and laughs.
That is when Monsieur Lefèvre offers her a way out.
Under his guidance, Amélie learns the true language of power-deception, loyalty, and sacrifice. One lie leads to another, and soon she rises in the same world that once rejected her.
But Julien Moreau, the man who loves the girl she used to be, watches her change.
At the height of her success, Amélie must choose: destroy Julien to protect her empire, or expose the corruption and lose everything.
Because in Paris, goodness is not free-
and survival always demands a price.
9.7
Giana woke up drugged and burning with fever in a luxurious hotel suite. Standing before her was Cornel Stark, the most ruthless billionaire in New York.
Memories of her past life stabbed into her brain. In that life, her adoptive family and her fiancé Gary had stolen her inheritance and left her to die a brutal, agonizing death.
She also remembered how fighting Cornel only made him more violent. So this time, she didn't scream.
She endured his brutal punishment, escaped the moment he let his guard down, and swallowed a Plan B pill on the freezing streets.
Returning to her adoptive family's mansion, she faced the people who had destroyed her. Her fiancé and her stepsister put on masks of fake concern, secretly mocking her.
Instead of throwing a useless tantrum like before, Giana deliberately threw herself down the steep wooden stairs.
She smashed her head against the marble floor, using her own blood to shatter their plans and win back her mother's trust.
She thought she had finally taken control. She was ready to crush the people who had betrayed her and live for herself.
But she didn't understand why the billionaire she had just escaped was suddenly turning her life upside down.
When she woke up in the hospital, her room wasn't filled with her family's fake tears, but an ocean of blood-red roses.
The heavy door swung open, and Cornel Stark walked in, his gray eyes locking onto her with a dark, predatory hunger.
"Remember this feeling, Giana. Every breath you take belongs to me now."
9.4
I married Alistair Montgomery out of duty, enduring five years of his coldness and his mother stealing my son, hoping my love would eventually warm his heart.
Then, his "dead" first love, Cordelia, returned.
The second he heard her voice on the phone, he ordered me out of his car on a deserted dirt road and left me in the dust to rush to her side.
She faked a suicide attempt and framed me. Alistair didn't even give me a chance to explain.
"If she doesn't survive this, I will destroy you."
He roared those words over the phone, openly declaring he would spend the night guarding her hospital bed.
The very next day, Cordelia's secret son publicly attacked me and my child at the kindergarten gates, pointing at me and screaming that I was a thief who stole his father.
For five years, I swallowed my pride and let his family strip me of my dignity, only to realize I was nothing but a temporary placeholder for a ghost.
He actually thought he could just toss me the empty title of "wife" while giving his heart and his nights to another woman.
I finally woke up from this pathetic joke.
I didn't shed another tear or beg him to look at me.
Instead, I calmly opened my tablet and searched for the most ruthless divorce lawyer in New York.
The war was about to begin.
7.3
I was summoned home from boarding school for a funeral, thinking my family finally wanted me back. I stood in the pouring rain, watching a mahogany casket disappear into the mud, while the silence in my head felt like it was drowning me.
That night, I hid behind a tapestry and listened through a vent to my father’s study. He wasn't talking about grief. He was talking about "tissue compatibility" and "near-perfect matches" with the family lawyer.
They didn't want a daughter; they wanted a donor. My father’s voice was devoid of emotion as he discussed "the harvest." My half-sister was dying, and I was the spare part they had been growing for years. They had even removed the lock from my bedroom door so I could never truly shut them out.
The realization shattered me. I was just a biological backup plan, a life deemed less valuable than the one they preferred. How could a father look at his own child and see nothing but a heart to be cut out and transplanted?
I didn't wait for them to come for me. I stuffed a backpack, flushed my SIM card, and climbed out the window into a thunderstorm. I caught a bus to the middle of nowhere, ending up in a seat next to a massive, predatory man named Hoyt who looked like he’d killed people for less than a seat preference.
He pinned my wrist with a grip like iron and growled, "Who sent you?"
I couldn't speak to defend myself, but as we rolled into a dying town called Blackwood Creek, I knew one thing for certain. I would rather take my chances with a stranger with a gun than stay another night with the family that wanted me dead.