Chapter 1

Nine months into my pregnancy, my husband's first love, Evelyn, moved into our house under some pretext.

Every time she saw me, she would clutch her chest, feigning heartache.

My husband, Alexander, was convinced that I was deliberately flaunting my pregnancy to upset Evelyn.

"Evelyn is too weak to bear children! You're constantly showing off your baby bump in front of her to provoke her! Looks like you won't learn your lesson unless I teach you one!"

He ordered his men to lock me in the long-abandoned attic and forbade anyone from bringing me food.

I struggled and begged, telling him that the ultrasound showed the twins were too large, and the doctor had advised me to be admitted to the hospital today for delivery.

But he laughed as if he had heard a joke, his voice as cold as ice shards:

"Your due date isn't for another three days! Stop playing the victim! Go to the attic and reflect on your actions! This is what you get for upsetting Evelyn!"

My contractions were so painful that I broke my nails clawing at the door, but no one came to open it. My agonizing screams echoed in the attic for a long time.

Until I was lying in a pool of blood, with the unformed fetuses still stuck in the bloody hole between my legs.

Three days later, Alexander, sipping a bowl of rice porridge that didn't suit his taste, said:

"Tell Lily to come out and make me a bowl of porridge, then apologize to Evelyn. If her attitude is sincere, send her to the hospital to give birth."

No one dared to respond.

Because the blood from the attic had already spread to the second step of the stairs.

...