To Save her Daughter, He Killed Mine

I gave my husband four children. I lost three of them.

Through every heartbreak, he held me and convinced me to try just one more time.

Even when the doctors warned another pregnancy could kill me, I risked my life for him.

Then, I overheard a conversation that shattered my world.

“Mr. Blackwood, the results are negative,” the doctor said. “Your newborn daughter is not a kidney match for Miss Sterling’s child.”

My husband’s reply was ice cold. “Another useless one. Looks like I’ll have to dispose of her, just like the other three.”

He didn't just break my heart; he turned our nursery into a graveyard.

He and his lover owe a debt. And I'm here to collect.

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1

I strolled down the pristine hospital corridor, carrying afternoon tea for my husband, Dario Blackwood.

I was just about to reach him when I overheard his conversation with the doctor. My feet were rooted to the spot.

“What about the kidney match results for Emma?” That was Dario’s voice.

The doctor’s reply was blunt. “Mr. Blackwood, the results are negative. Your newborn daughter, Sophia, is not a match for her.”

Dario let out a cold, sharp laugh. The sound was pure ice.

“Another useless one. Looks like I’ll have to deal with her, just like the other three.”

Ice flooded my veins. I continued to listen more.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

He actually killed our three children through...poison?

All this time, his desperation to have children with me wasn’t about building our family. It was about creating a kidney donor for Emma, the daughter he had with his mistress, Nora Sterling.

Tears flooded my eyes. I clamped a hand over my mouth, choking back a sob.

Just then, I heard Dario’s footsteps approaching. I ducked into a nearby restroom, my body wracked with tremors.

My mind raced to my one-month-old daughter, Sophia.

This morning, Dario had told me he was taking her for a routine newborn check-up, insisting I stay home and rest.

It wasn’t a check-up. It was a goddamn organ compatibility test.

Panic clawed at my throat. I had to get my baby back.

I flew out of the restroom just as Dario was walking out of the doctor’s office, holding Sophia.

I wiped my tears, forcing myself to look calm as I walked toward him.

He was cooing softly at Sophia. In a flash, I lunged forward and snatched her from his arms.

Thank God, she seemed fine, apart from a tiny pinprick on her little arm.

“Honey, what are you doing here?” Dario’s voice was as gentle as ever. He reached out to pull me into his arms. “You shouldn’t be out of bed. You still need to recover.”

This was Dario, the man I’d been married to for six years.

For six years, he had been the perfect husband. I was a well-regarded interior designer, he was the CEO of a top tech firm. To the world, we were the perfect couple.

He wanted children the moment we got married.

In six years, I gave him four children. Three of them died tragically young.

Each time, he held me and comforted me, telling me we were young, that we could always try again.

So I kept getting pregnant. I kept giving him children.

After losing three babies, my body was a wreck. My doctor warned me another pregnancy could be life-threatening.

But I did it anyway. I wanted to give him the child he so desperately craved.

And now I knew the truth. It was never for us. It was for Nora’s daughter.

“I just missed you so much,” I said, my eyes red.

I’ve always been good at controlling my emotions, and this time was no different.

Dario didn’t suspect a thing. He kissed my forehead.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart. I can’t have my baby girl getting worn out.” He smiled, taking my hand, but his eyes kept darting toward Sophia in my arms.

On the drive home, I dug my nails into my thigh, using the pain to stay calm.

I thought of my three lost children. The babies I had carried for nine months and brought into this world.

They were supposed to grow up happy and healthy.

Instead, their own father had murdered them with poison.

I swear, Dario. You will pay for this in blood.