Chapter 3

I was back in bed, pretending to be asleep, when Ethan returned.

He was carrying a baby, wrapped in a blue blanket.

His face was a careful construction of joy and relief.

"Sarah, my love," he said softly, approaching the bed. "Look. Our son. Anson. He' s a miracle."

He held the baby out for me to see.

A beautiful, healthy-looking baby.

But not mine. I knew, with a chilling certainty, this was not the child I had carried for eight months.

This was Jessica' s baby.

My heart shattered into a million pieces.

I wanted to scream, to rage, to claw his eyes out.

But a terrifying calm settled over me. I had to play along. For now.

"He' s... beautiful," I managed, my voice a hoarse whisper.

Ethan beamed. "He looks just like you around the eyes, don't you think?"

A lie. Every word a lie.

He placed the baby in a bassinet beside my bed.

"The doctor said you need stronger pain medication," Ethan said, his expression full of fake concern. He held up a smoothie. "I had them mix it into this. It' ll help you rest and recover faster."

The sterility drug.

He was going to poison me, to take away my future, my ability to ever have another child.

All for Jessica.

I looked at the smoothie, then at his smiling face.

The mask of the loving husband.

If I refused, he' d know I suspected something.

I had to drink it.

"Thank you, Ethan," I said, my voice flat.

He helped me sit up, holding the straw to my lips.

The liquid was thick, sweet. Each sip felt like swallowing poison.

He watched me drink every last drop.

"Good girl," he said, patting my hand. "Now get some rest. I'll take care of Anson."

He left the room, taking the empty cup with him.

A few hours later, the pain started.

Not the dull ache of postpartum recovery. This was different.

Agonizing cramps gripped my abdomen, doubling me over.

I started bleeding. Heavily.

I pressed the call button, panic rising.

Ethan rushed in with the same private doctor.

They exchanged a look.

The doctor examined me, his face grave.

"It appears to be a rare postpartum complication, Mrs. Hayes," he said, his voice devoid of genuine sympathy. "Severe hemorrhaging. We'll manage it, but..."

He paused, letting the unspoken words hang in the air.

Ethan put his arm around my shoulders, his touch making my skin crawl.

"What is it, doctor?" Ethan asked, his voice laced with false anxiety.

"I'm afraid," the doctor said, looking at me with pity that felt rehearsed, "it's highly unlikely you'll be able to conceive again."

The words hit me, even though I knew they were coming.

Irreversible.

Ethan held me close, murmuring words of comfort.

"It's okay, Sarah. We have Anson. He's all we need."

His only heir.

I closed my eyes, the tears escaping, not for the loss of future children, but for the child I had already lost, and for the depth of the betrayal that was still unfolding.

The agony in my body was nothing compared to the agony in my soul.