Forever With My Children

The last thing I remembered was the cold, damp earth on my knees, kneeling before Liam' s grave as my wife, Olivia, stood over me, her beautiful face a mask of pure hatred.

"This is where you belong, Ethan. At his feet."

I had believed her promise of a child, an heir, would free me from her cruel games and secure our future.

Instead, her obsession with her dead childhood sweetheart, Liam, led her to deliberately delay the C-section for our twins, costing them their lives.

Then, she had her guards beat me to death.

But I woke up.

In a sterile white hospital room, the rhythmic beeping of a machine in my ears, I saw Olivia, seemingly unchanged, on the phone, ordering the very delay that doomed our children in my first life.

My heart, which I thought was empty, throbbed with a dull ache as she publicly declared another child - Liam' s son, Lucas - her sole heir, and callously ordered my own babies to be "gotten rid of."

Paternal love surged, and I rushed to protect them, only to be struck down.

I awoke again, beaten and framed for attacking them, mocked by Olivia and the fake Liam.

Then came the chilling realization: Olivia, too, remembered.

She knew about my "second chance" and taunted me with it.

She used my dying father, his life hanging by a thread in the same hospital, as leverage.

When I reluctantly agreed to her demands, she killed him right in front of me, shattering my world.

Imprisoned in the dark basement of our old mansion with the bodies of my dead children, utter despair consumed me.

How could this be happening again?

Why did she hate me so much, across two lifetimes?

Why couldn't I escape this nightmare?

But Olivia's twisted victory was short-lived.

The very betrayal she orchestrated began to unravel, revealing Liam' s true identity as a con man and Lucas as a stranger' s child.

The architect of my torment had built her empire on a foundation of lies, and now, it was all about to come crashing down.

The last thing I remembered from my first life was the cold, damp earth on my knees.

I was kneeling before a grave. Liam' s grave.

Olivia, the woman I married, the woman whose family saved mine from ruin, stood over me. Her beautiful face was a mask of pure hatred.

"This is where you belong, Ethan," she had said, her voice devoid of any warmth. "At his feet."

She promised me that if I gave her a child, an heir, she would finally let go of the past. She would dismiss the countless "muses" she kept around, the men she claimed were for artistic inspiration but were really just a constant torment to me. She swore our child would be the sole heir to her family's immense fortune.

I believed her. I was a fool.

When the doctor announced we were having twins, I was overjoyed. I thought my devotion had finally paid off.

But during the delivery, she deliberately delayed the C-section. She held onto some insane hope that Liam, her dead childhood sweetheart, would somehow return. Her obsession cost our children their lives. The twins were stillborn.

Then she brought me to this grave and had her guards beat me to death. My last sight was her smiling as she looked at the name etched on the tombstone.

And then, I woke up.

The sterile white of a hospital room filled my vision. The rhythmic beeping of a machine echoed in my ears. I felt a phantom ache in my bones, the memory of the beating.

But I was alive.

I looked down at my hands. They were clean, unbruised. I was wearing a simple shirt and pants, not the blood-soaked clothes I died in.

Olivia was sitting in a chair by the window, her back to me. She was on the phone.

"I don' t care what the doctor says," she snapped into her phone. "I' m not ready. Delay it. I' ll tell you when."

A cold dread washed over me. I knew this conversation. This was the exact moment. She was on the phone with her assistant, ordering them to stop the doctors from performing the C-section.

This was the day my children were supposed to be born. The day they died.

In my first life, I had rushed to her side. I begged her, pleaded with her to think of the babies. I reminded her of her promise. My desperation only seemed to fuel her resolve.

But this wasn't my first life.

I sat up slowly, the bed creaking under my weight.

Olivia heard the sound and turned around, her phone still pressed to her ear. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise when she saw me awake and so... calm.

"I have to go," she said curtly, and hung up the phone. She placed it on the table beside her and crossed her arms, studying me.

"You' re awake," she stated, not asked.

"Yes," I said. My voice was raspy, but steady.

She waited, expecting me to start pleading. Expecting the panic and the begging. I could see the anticipation in her eyes, the familiar look of someone who enjoyed watching me suffer.

I said nothing. I just looked back at her, my expression completely blank. I felt nothing for her anymore. No love, no hope. Just a vast, empty space where my heart used to be.

This time, I wouldn't try to save them by begging her. Her heart was a stone that could not be moved. This time, I would let fate unfold as it was meant to.

Her brow furrowed. My silence was not part of her script.

"Aren' t you going to say anything?" she asked, a hint of annoyance in her tone. "Don' t you care about your children?"

The words were meant to hurt me, and in another life, they would have shattered me.

Now, they were just noise.

"They are your children too, Olivia," I replied, my voice flat. "It' s your body, your choice. Do whatever you want."

I laid back down on the bed and turned my head to face the wall, a clear dismissal.

I could feel her stare on my back. It was sharp, confused, and for the first time, I felt a flicker of something new in her presence.

Doubt. She didn' t understand my reaction.

This was a new game, and I was no longer playing by her rules.

A short while later, the door to the private suite swung open.

I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. The shift in the room's atmosphere was enough. A cloying sweetness, a triumphant air that always followed him.

Liam.

Or rather, the man who called himself Liam.

"Olivia, my love." His voice was smooth, practiced. "I came as soon as I heard."

I heard the rustle of Olivia' s dress as she rushed to him.

"Liam! You' re here! And you brought him."

I finally turned my head. There he was, looking exactly as he did in my memories. He was holding a small boy in his arms, about four years old. Lucas.

Liam' s son.

The boy looked around the room with wide, innocent eyes, completely unaware of the poison his father carried.

Olivia' s face, which had been a mask of cold indifference towards me, had transformed. It was now glowing with a love so intense it was sickening. She wasn't looking at Liam; her entire focus was on the boy.

She reached out and gently stroked Lucas' s cheek.

"My sweet boy," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "My Lucas."

Liam smiled, a predator' s smile. "He wanted to see his mother."

The doctors and nurses who had been waiting outside for Olivia' s signal now stood awkwardly in the doorway. They had come to tell her it was time, that any further delay was dangerous.

But Olivia didn't even look at them.

She took Lucas from Liam' s arms, holding him as if he were made of glass. She turned to the assembled medical staff, her expression hardening once more. Her voice rang out, clear and absolute, for everyone to hear.

"This is my son," she declared, holding Lucas up slightly. "Lucas is my first child, and he is the sole heir to the Ashford fortune. Remember his face."

The room fell silent. The doctors and nurses exchanged confused, fearful glances. They knew she was pregnant with twins. They knew I was the father.

My heart, the one I thought was empty, felt a dull, heavy throb. The public humiliation was just as I remembered. But this time, it felt distant, like watching a movie I had already seen.

A senior doctor finally stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Mrs. Miller, with all due respect, your own babies... we need to perform the C-section now. It' s becoming critical."

Olivia shot him a look of pure contempt. "I' m busy. Do it without me." Then she turned to two of her personal security guards who stood by the door. "When they are born, get rid of them. I don' t want to see them."

"Get rid of them?" one of the guards repeated, his face pale.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Olivia' s voice was ice. "They are nothing. Blemishes. Take them away. I never want them to set foot in my house or my life."

My resolve shattered.

I had told myself I would let it happen. I had told myself I couldn' t change her. But hearing her call our children "blemishes," ordering them to be thrown away like trash... something inside me broke.

Paternal love, a force I didn' t know was still in me, surged through my veins.

As the doctors, now pale with fear, rushed to wheel Olivia' s bed out of the room towards the operating theater, I threw the covers off myself.

The guards were already moving to follow the doctors, ready to carry out Olivia' s horrific order.

"No!"

The word tore from my throat. I launched myself off the bed, my body weak but fueled by a sudden, desperate strength. I had to get to them. I had to protect my children.

I pushed past Liam, who stumbled back in surprise. I was running, chasing after the gurney that was disappearing down the hall.

I could hear the nurses shouting. I could hear Liam calling my name with false concern.

All I could see were my children, their lives hanging by a thread.

I was almost there. I could almost reach the gurney.

Then, a sharp, blinding pain exploded at the back of my head. One of the security guards had struck me from behind.

The world tilted violently. The bright lights of the hospital corridor smeared into a blur.

My last conscious thought was of two tiny, helpless babies, and my own complete and utter failure to save them.

Then, everything went black.