Beyond His Betrayal, A Mother Rises

I was overjoyed when I found out I was pregnant. I posted a simple, happy announcement on social media-a picture of tiny baby shoes, captioned "Our next chapter begins."

The next day, my husband Kaeden accused me of doing it to deliberately hurt his "fragile" friend, Clemmie, who was infertile. He said I needed to be taught a lesson in cruelty.

He strapped me to a table and, while Clemmie watched, ordered a man to electrocute me.

I begged him to stop, to think of our child, but he refused.

"Increase it," he commanded, even after being warned it could kill the fetus. He left me bleeding out on the cold metal.

But the horror was just beginning. I was rushed to a hospital, not to be saved, but to be harvested. I heard the doctor's triumphant voice: "It's a perfect match."

My husband was having me murdered to give my heart and kidneys to his mistress.

My last sensation was the cold steel of a scalpel on my skin. My last thought was of my baby, who would never draw a breath. The monitor flatlined into a single, unending tone.

Then, my eyes fluttered open. I was alive.

Chapter 1

The cold metal bit into my wrists and ankles. I was strapped to a table in a room that smelled of sterile cleaning fluid and something metallic, like burnt wires.

"Kaeden, please," I begged, my voice cracking. "Stop this. Whatever she told you, it's not true."

My husband, Kaeden Burris, stood a few feet away, his handsome face a mask of cold fury. He didn't look at me. His eyes were fixed on the woman beside him, Clemmie Odonnell.

"Daria, you did this to yourself," Kaeden said, his voice low and dangerous.

Clemmie was clinging to his arm, her face pale and tear-streaked. She looked fragile, like a porcelain doll. I knew better.

"Kaeden, she's in pain," Clemmie whispered, her voice trembling with fake concern. "Maybe this is enough."

He turned to her, his expression softening instantly. He gently stroked her hair. "She needs to learn, Clemmie. She needs to understand the pain she caused you."

He gestured to a man in a lab coat standing by a machine with dials and wires. "She cyberbullied you. She shamed you for your infertility, for your depression, just by flaunting her own pregnancy. She needs to feel a fraction of your suffering."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "I didn't! I just posted an announcement. It was a happy thing, Kaeden. For us. For our baby." I instinctively tried to curl around my stomach, but the restraints held me flat. "Please, think of our child."

At the mention of the baby, Kaeden' s face hardened again. "You should have thought of the baby before you decided to hurt Clemmie."

He nodded to the man. "Turn it on. Let's start with a low setting."

A gut-wrenching jolt seized my body. Every muscle screamed. A raw, guttural cry was ripped from my throat. It felt like my bones were on fire.

"Please, stop!" I sobbed when the current ceased. "I'll do anything. The baby..."

"Kaeden, she's promising to be good now," Clemmie said, burying her face in his chest. "I can't watch this."

He held her tighter. "It's almost over, my love." Then he looked at the man by the machine. "Increase it."

The man hesitated. "Sir, this level could be dangerous for the fetus."

"Do it," Kaeden commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Another wave of agony, more intense than the first, slammed into me. My vision went white, then black. I could feel the life draining out of me, and a terrifying cold spread through my womb.

Through the haze of pain, I locked eyes with Kaeden. "I will never forgive you," I spat, blood mixing with my saliva. "If I die... I will haunt you. I will curse you and that monster forever."

Kaeden just laughed, a short, ugly sound. "You're not in a position to make threats, Daria."

Clemmie peeked out from his arms. "Oh, Daria, don't say such things. We just want you to understand. We don't want to hurt you."

Her hypocrisy was more painful than the electricity.

They left me there, strapped to the table in the silent, cold room. The two guards outside the door ignored my desperate cries for help. My body was a wreck, shaking uncontrollably. A dark, warm liquid was pooling beneath me. I was bleeding.

"Help me," I whispered to one of the guards through the crack in the door. "Please, my baby."

The guard looked away, his face impassive. "Mr. Burris pays our salaries. We don't get involved."

"He'll take good care of you," the other guard added with a cynical smirk. "You're in the best hands."

The door clicked shut, plunging me back into suffocating silence. Hope died, and a chilling blackness began to creep in at the edges of my vision.