My Husband Left Me to Die on Valentine's Day

On the eve of giving birth, my world turned into a nightmare. My husband’s sworn enemy broke into our home, seeking revenge. I was brutally cut open and my baby was ripped from me. Yet, I made the chilling choice not to call my husband for help.

In my previous life, desperate and terrified, I begged him to return home. He abandoned a Valentine’s dinner with a scholarship student to rush back. That night, the student was preyed upon in a bar, leading to her tragic suicide.

My husband’s wrath was unrelenting. Blaming me for her death, he locked me in a kennel, leaving me to be savaged to death.

“This is the pain Wynne endured because of you. Now it’s your turn to suffer!”

Given a second chance, I resolved to make a different choice. This time, I let him stay for his romantic Valentine’s evening with her. But when I returned home, he had spiraled into madness.

Cold sweat drenched my body as I opened my eyes. When I glanced at the date on my phone, I couldn’t help but gasp.

The house was pitch dark downstairs, yet I could hear faint breathing. Just as I was about to quietly lock my bedroom door, the housekeeper’s loud voice broke the silence.

“Ma’am, I made some chicken broth for you. Drink it before you go back to sleep.”

She grabbed the door I was trying to close and forced her way inside.

“Mr. Rivers said you’ve been picky with your meals lately. He told me to watch you carefully, so you’d better behave.”

Her smile was as warm and simple as always, but a chill ran down my spine.

In my previous life, I’d drunk the chicken broth Mary Warren gave me and passed out shortly after. When I woke up, I was already lying on the floor. My husband’s nemesis, Zack Johnson, stood not far away, speaking on the phone.

Mary had vanished.

I crawled into the bathroom, locked the door, and used my smartwatch to call my husband. But this time, I wasn’t planning to let myself fall into the same trap.

Mary stood at the door, refusing to leave until I drank the soup. Heavily pregnant, I couldn’t risk going head-to-head with someone as strong as her.

“Mary, my stomach feels unsettled. Just leave it here for now.”

Hearing this, she turned and left. Watching her figure disappear through the doorway, I hurriedly reached for my phone to call the police.

Suddenly, her menacing face appeared in the crack of the door.

She snatched the phone out of my hand, glaring at me. “Who were you trying to call? Were you planning to complain to Mr. Rivers and ask him to come back for you? Tonight, Mr. Rivers is hosting a special Valentine’s party for Miss Wynne Watson. You’d better know your place and stop causing trouble!”

She sneered and tossed my phone off the balcony.

I instinctively felt that Mary’s reaction was off, but in my panic, all I could do was grab her wrist.

“Mary, there’s an intruder in the house. Give me your phone so I can call the police.”

Her expression stiffened for a moment before she forced a smile. “Ma’am, you must be joking. The house is under surveillance; how could anyone get in?”

As she spoke, she ignored my careful effort to protect my stomach and gripped my shoulder, guiding me downstairs.

I hadn’t had a chance to put on my smartwatch and could only anxiously warn her, “Mary, don’t go downstairs! I’m the mistress of this house, and you’re supposed to listen to me.”

But at my words, the corners of her mouth curled into an unsettling smile.

“Ma’am, the master of this house is Mr. Rivers. I’m taking you downstairs to put your mind at ease. Or is it that you’re just looking for an excuse to get him to come back and be with you?”

Her voice lowered, sharp and taunting. “Our Wynne might be a scholarship student, but she’s beautiful and clever—a perfect match for Mr. Rivers. And if you lose the title of Mrs. Rivers, what will you be?”

When I became pregnant, Michael Rivers hired Mary, a highly sought-after housekeeper, at a generous salary to take care of me.

On most days, she was diligent and unassuming.

But whenever Wynne came to the house, Mary would become overly attentive.

I even caught her sneaking my supplements into Wynne’s bag.

And despite my preference for lighter meals, Mary repeatedly ignored my tastes, serving up tables full of spicy dishes just because Wynne liked them.

When I angrily confronted her, Mary responded with a look of grievance. “Ma’am, Miss Watson comes from a poor family. I just wanted to take better care of her. You should be kind to her. It would bring good karma for the baby you’re carrying.”

Michael even sided with Mary, scolding me for being petty and jealous, claiming I was nothing like Wynne, who was sweet and understanding.

Looking back, Mary’s affection and favoritism toward Wynne were utterly unwarranted.

But at this moment, the realization chilled me to the bone.

She thought I wasn’t good enough for Michael and believed getting rid of me was the only way to let Wynne stand by his side rightfully!

As Mary tugged harder to drag me downstairs, I clung desperately to the staircase railing. My grip was so tight that my nails snapped, and blood began to seep from my fingertips.

Seeing me resist, Mary impatiently shoved me from behind. “Ma’am, what are you afraid of? Being so paranoid isn’t good for you.”

Meanwhile, the heavy breathing belonging to Zack grew louder and more labored, echoing in the air.

My heart clenched in terror. Was I truly doomed to fall into their clutches after all?