My Husband Killed Our Unborn Baby to Save his Beloved Woman
Three years after Theo Hayes and I got married, I finally conceived his baby.
Yet, around Valentine's Day, he personally performed an abortion on me.
With reddened eyes, he told me that my heart couldn't withstand the burden of pregnancy.
I was consumed with guilt and felt my body was not good enough and disappointed in Theo's deep love for me.
Behind a curtain, Theo was washing the blood from his hands.
"Theo, actually, if Dolores's current health is meticulously nurtured, there's a chance she could give birth to the baby. Why did you insist on..."
"I need the umbilical cord blood," Theo said coldly. "Teresa's condition requires a stem cell transplant from newborn umbilical cord blood.
Dolores's child is the best source, but a full-term delivery is too slow. Teresa can't wait so long.
So... I expedited the fetus's growth and induced labor at five months. Although the baby won't survive, the cord blood can be used.
Dolores wasn't going to live long anyway. It will be her final contribution to the Powell family that we used her baby to save Teresa.
Don't let Dolores know I expedited the fetus and induced it. Just tell her it was a stillbirth."
Dolores closed her eyes in despair, and tears streamed uncontrollably.
Her husband, Theo, killed their baby and even drained the last value from it.
He just used the baby's umbilical cord blood to save Soren Powell, my half-sister.
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Chapter 2
In less than twenty-four hours after surgery, every slight movement sent a searing pain through me.
Bella Powell, Teresa's mother, called me. ""Dolores, stop lying in bed! Get back home right now! It is a family dinner to celebrate Teresa's successful surgery this evening. Stop acting like you're dead."
My hand shook as I held the phone. "Mom, I just had surgery…"
"Shut up! Don't call me 'Mom.' Marrying Theo didn't make you one of us. You know your place in this family. Teresa just had a transplant and wants to have the soup you make. If I don't see that soup on the table by six, you can get out of the Powell family!"
The call ended abruptly.
I glanced at Theo. He was sitting nearby and engrossed in his documents.
He had heard everything, but he didn't even bother to look up.
"Theo, I…"
"If Bella wants you back, then go back." Theo turned another page and said in an indifferent tone, "Besides, Teresa wants to see you."
"But I just had surgery…"
"It was a minor procedure. Teresa's transplant was far more serious." He finally looked up at me, and his gaze was icy cold. "Teresa had a hematopoietic stem cell transplant. It was a major surgery. Your discomfort will pass if you just push through."
I looked at him and suddenly felt it was laughable.
In the past, when I had painful menstrual cramps, he had cancelled a meeting where he was discussing million-dollar deals to rush home, made me some warm soup, and warmed my stomach with his hands.
He used to say, "Dolores, you're my precious. I can't stand seeing you suffer even a bit."
It turns out that was only because I hadn't yet needed to sacrifice for Teresa.
When it came to Teresa, I was nothing more than a means to an end, a tool without feelings.
I forced myself out of bed and returned to the Powell villa, still weak from surgery.
The villa was brightly lit, filled with cheer.
I was the only dark cloud.
I tied on an apron and stood in the kitchen.
Recovering from surgery continued intermittently, and cold sweat soaked through the clothes on my back.
While chopping vegetables, waves of pain shot through my abdomen.
Two hours later, I served the steaming soup in the dining room.
The family was gathered around the table happily. They formed a picture of warmth.
As I entered, all laughter abruptly ceased.
Teresa, in silk pajamas, looked healthy. She was not like someone who just had a transplant at all.
She called out sweetly, "Theo, I want some soup."
Theo immediately stood up, took the bowl from my hands, blew on it gently, and brought it to her lips.
Teresa took a sip and suddenly frowned. "It's hot!"
With a flick of her hand, half the bowl of scalding soup spilled onto the back of my hand.
I gasped in pain—my skin burned and turned red.
Before I could react, Bella rushed over.
She grabbed my arm and shook me sharply. "You are careless! Are you trying to scald Ruben to death?"
She inspected Teresa's hand over and over again.
Though there was no visible mark, she shed tears as she felt so sorry for Teresa.
My father, Kevan Powell, frowned and slammed his spoon onto the table. "Can't you do anything right? Go wait outside until you've calmed down and learned some sense!"
I clutched my red, swollen hand and instinctively looked at Theo.
He was my husband.
Even if he no longer loved me, surely he would say something for the sake of the baby we just lost.
But he didn't.
Theo was focused on blowing gently on Teresa's fingers. "Does it hurt? Let me take you to put on some ointment."
As for me?
He didn't spare me even a glance.
I was like invisible trash, despised by all.
The door slammed shut behind me, cutting off the warmth and laughter inside.
Outside, it was snowing heavily.
Snowflakes landed on my shoulders and quickly melted into icy water that seeped into my clothes.
I sank onto the cold ground, my legs trembling from exhaustion and pain.
My heart began to beat erratically and pound against my chest.
Through the large windows, I saw Theo helping Teresa have fish, meticulously deboned.
Teresa smiled blissfully and planted a kiss on his cheek.
What a perfect couple they made!
And what was I?
Was I just a stepping stone in their love story?
Was I a supporting character destined for sacrifice?
A bitter taste rose in my throat.
I pressed a hand to my chest, coughing weakly as tears mixed with melting snow.
In that moment, I felt overwhelming shame—not for who I was, but for how desperately I'd wanted their love.
I was ashamed of having begged for belonging in a family that never saw me as one of their own.
I was ashamed of groveling like a dog, seeking a semblance of family affection.
I realized that I was so pathetic.
I saw them as family, but how did they see me?
My vision blurred with tears. For a moment, I thought I saw my mother's face in the falling snow—gentle, sorrowful, as if urging me to stop suffering in silence.
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Lolita begins as a woman discarded. Betrayed by her husband, Lyle, she is stripped of everything and thrown into the gutters of London. She is left with nothing but her wits in a world designed to erase her. Lyle didn't just leave her; he disposed of her like a spent asset, assuming she would quietly disappear. He was wrong.
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Through an intoxicating display of dominant power and erotic prowess, Lolita targets the man behind the machine. She doesn't just win; she breaks Franco's stoic, masculine code, forcing a full surrender of his will. She seduces the power away from the enforcer, turning the architect of the game into her most devoted subject. She proves that her dominance isn't just about force-it's about a total, soul-deep conquest that leaves the city's most dangerous man kneeling at her feet.
The Rags to Riches Ascent
The journey from a discarded wife to the Queen of the Apex Bloom is paved with the ruin of those who underestimated her. Lolita uses her sexuality and her intellect as twin blades, seizing the wealth and the territories of the men who thought they were players. By the time the dust settles, she has achieved unimaginable riches and undisputed authority, standing at the head of an empire built on the shattered remains of Franco's former life.
The Final Sovereignty
The book concludes with Lolita standing at the absolute summit. Her marriage to Franco in the Cotswolds is the ultimate victory lap-a coronation where the man who once ran the game now serves its new Queen. They are bound by blood and law, but it is Lolita who holds the reins.
The story ends with The Syndicate, the global masters of the underworld, watching in shock. They thought they were dealing with another street-level syndicate; instead, they have found a woman who took the most lethal survival game in existence and made it her own.
7.1
After five years in a federal prison, framed by my stepmother and fiancé, I was finally released.
Instead of a welcome home, my stepmother tossed me a one-way ticket to Geneva and a threat: renounce the family name and disappear, or end up in the Hudson River.
When our limo was suddenly ambushed by military-grade SUVs on the highway, their cowardice almost got us killed.
I took the wheel, crashed the attackers, and saved their lives.
But the moment the danger passed, my stepmother tried to slap me, called me a psycho, and abandoned me on the desolate roadside.
My ex-fiancé later cornered me in public, trying to assert his dominance by grabbing my arm.
They still thought I was the broken girl they sent to a cage just so they could steal my dead mother's biochemical research.
I didn't feel heartbreak, only a cold, absolute certainty.
They threw me to the wolves, not realizing the federal penitentiary had burned away my capacity for mercy.
I hacked into the dark web and found out Dante Meltoni, the most dangerous Mafia Don in New York, was tearing the city apart to find a legendary underground doctor.
I am that doctor.
I walked straight into his heavily guarded fortress, pulled out a syringe, and saved his dying grandfather.
Then I looked the terrifying Don right in the eye.
"Marry me. And let me use your empire to wipe my family off the map."
7.4
What's worse than being trapped in an elevator with your gorgeous, Rich boss?
Being trapped with all three of them.
Jack, Gavin, and Harrison aren't just my bosses; they're my brother's filthy rich best friends.
After a steamy, unplanned hookup when the lights went out, I'm about to become much more than just the girl next door.
There's Jack, whose touch drives me wild.
Gavin, the cocky CEO whose dirty orders I can't wait to obey.
And Harrison, the sweet, passionate one who pours his heart into everything... including me.
I've waited years for these men to finally see me. Now, I belong to them. My body is theirs to devour, my bed is theirs to break. But giving them my heart is a terrifying risk, and I just pray they don't shatter it.
7.8
Growing up as the maid's daughter in the glittering, suffocating Collins mansion, Nora Macie has perfected the art of being invisible. Enter Asher Collins. Rich, ruthless, and infuriatingly untouchable, unfortunately for Nora, her stepbrother has always had the power to ruin her with a single word.
The moment a private video she never intended anyone to see is accidentally sent straight to Asher Collins. Except Asher doesn't expose her. He becomes curious... and dangerously invested.
He will remake her. Not just into someone noticed, but into someone unforgettable, someone who commands attention the moment she walks into a room.
Suddenly, the boys who never knew her name are watching her. Through it all, Asher remains in control... or at least he should be.
Because the closer Nora gets to becoming everything he designed, the harder it becomes for him to remember that she was never meant to be his.
*
His fingers lifted, brushing lightly along the side of her throat. "I think you've been lying to yourself," he said. "Because your body already knows what it wants."
Her breath faltered. "I swear, I'll kill you if you don't back the hell up."
And then, without giving her the chance to retreat, he closed the final inch between them. "I would much rather you kiss me."
7.4
I was the wife of Damien Valenti, the most ruthless mafia Don in Chicago.
But to cement his power and marry a rival family's daughter, he exiled me to the slums without a single dime.
"Stay not as my wife, Izzy, but as my whore."
That was his final ultimatum before dumping me out of his black SUV like trash.
Terrified of losing me, my five-year-old son, Angelo, secretly hid in the car to follow me.
Two days later, in a squalid Indiana motel, Angelo caught severe pneumonia.
I had no money and no doctor. In sheer desperation, I sliced my own wrist with broken glass, pressing my bleeding arm to his pale lips, begging him to drink and live.
But my little boy died in my arms.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Damien was sipping vintage champagne with his new bride, casually dismissing the life of his own flesh and blood.
The grief turned me into a monster. I spent twenty years clawing my way through the underworld to destroy his empire, only to die with a bullet in my chest.
I gave him my absolute devotion, yet he traded our family for political power without a single ounce of hesitation.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in that hellish neon-lit motel room.
Angelo was burning with fever and fighting for air, but he was still breathing.
This time, I wasn't the naive girl who loved Damien Valenti. I was a woman holding two decades of their darkest secrets, and my vendetta had just begun.
7.7
In my past life, the bullet chambered in the gun on the desk was less lethal than the indifference of the two men standing beside me.
Dante and Matteo were supposed to be the future kings of Chicago, and I was their queen.
But they threw it all away for Sofia—a liar with a pretty face and a fake sob story about a gambling father.
They forced me into a gilded cage, making me serve Sofia like a maid while they played her saviors.
They let me rot in isolation until I swallowed a bottle of pills just to escape the coldness of their neglect.
They didn't even mourn me; they were too busy comforting the girl who would eventually destroy them.
I died realizing that my loyalty was my fatal flaw.
I had worshipped men who saw me as nothing more than an accessory, while they sacrificed their empire for a woman who played them for fools.
But the universe has a sick sense of humor.
It sent me back.
Back to the day that sealed my fate.
The Consigliere pushed the assignment papers toward us—the path to becoming Bosses.
"We are not going," Dante said, looking at me with cold eyes. "Sofia needs us. She is fragile."
In my past life, I begged them to stay.
This time, I stepped forward and picked up the pen.
"I will go," I said, signing my name in sharp black ink.
"I don't need your protection anymore."