My Husband Killed Our Unborn Baby to Save his Beloved Woman

Three years after Theo Hayes and I got married, I finally became pregnant.

Yet, around Valentine's Day, he made the decision to end my pregnancy for medical reasons.

With red-rimmed eyes, he told me my heart condition couldn't safely sustain a pregnancy.

I was overwhelmed with guilt, convinced my body had failed him-and that I'd disappointed the man who'd always claimed to love me deeply.

Behind a curtain, Theo was washing the blood from his hands.

"Theo, actually, if Dolores's current health is meticulously nurtured, there's a chance she could give birth to the baby. Why did you insist on..."

"Teresa's condition is critical," Theo said coldly. "She needs a rare type of transplant-one that only a closely matched donor in our family can provide. Dolores's child is the best source, but a full-term delivery is too slow. Teresa can't wait so long. So... I expedited the fetus's growth and induced labor at five months. Although the baby won't survive, the cord blood can be used. Given Dolores's fragile health, this was the only way to help Teresa in time. It's a sacrifice, but one that serves the family.

Don't let Dolores know I expedited the fetus and induced it. Just tell her it was a stillbirth."

Dolores closed her eyes in despair, and tears streamed uncontrollably.

Her husband, Theo, killed their baby and even drained the last value from it.

He just used the baby's umbilical cord blood to save Soren Powell, my half-sister.

...

In the quiet recovery room, I slowly came to from anesthesia.

My lower abdomen felt hollow, and a deep ache spread through me-like something precious had been taken without my consent.

In the corner, two nurses were tidying up the instruments. They were talking in low voices.

"It's heartbreaking... She was so far along."

"Shh, keep your voice down. It's Theo's decision. He is the director of the hospital."

"Using the pregnancy like this-to save the Powells' daughter-it just feels wrong."

Tears slid from the corners of my eyes into my hair. It was icy cold.

I repeated in my mind, "Theo, is this what you meant? You told me the baby has an 'unexpected developmental halt'."

He had tearfully told me that it was "for the sake of my heart".

Beyond a pale blue curtain, the sound of running water echoed.

Theo was washing his hands. "Is everything dealt with?" he asked.

The assistant's voice trembled slightly. "Yes, it's done. The cord blood has been extracted and is being sent to be examined."

"Good," Theo replied. His tone was emotionless. "Remember, tell Dolores it was a stillbirth. She doesn't need to know the truth."

"But Mr. Hayes, if Dolores finds out it was to save Teresa..."

"She doesn't need to know it," Theo interrupted with an authoritative finality. "She's always known her place in this family. This is how she serves it. Consider it her purpose."

My heart clenched fiercely. Was it my honor?

It was our child, a living, breathing five-month-old baby.

But to Theo, it was nothing more than a vessel for Teresa's cord blood?

The curtain was abruptly pulled aside.

Theo entered and wore the familiar mask of tenderness I once knew so well.

He approached the bed and tucked in the blanket with a gentle gaze.

"You're awake? Does it hurt?" He offered me a cup of warm water with a straw. "Have some water. You lost a lot of blood," he said softly.

I looked at his face.

He had sharp brows, starry eyes, and a high nose bridge. I'd loved him for a decade.

Yet now, my stomach churned violently.

He had just ended our child's life before it even began.

And now, he could nonchalantly show concern about me.

I opened my mouth and took the straw.

The warm water flowed down my throat, but it couldn't quell the nausea rising within me.

I pushed him away suddenly and retched, spilling water and bile onto his shirt.

Theo was stunned.

A flicker of disgust flashed in his eyes before he quickly concealed it.

He took out a tissue and first wiped his sleeve and then my mouth. "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

I stared into his eyes and hoped to see a shred of guilt.

But I failed.

There was only feigned concern and a deep-seated impatience.

"I miss my baby..." My voice was hoarse.

Theo sighed. "Dolores, the baby is gone. It was a stillbirth. Your heart isn't well. If you saw it, you would be more grieved. I've already taken care of it."

How did he take care of it?

Did he discard it like rubbish?

His phone vibrated briefly then.

He glanced at the screen, and his eyes lit up instantly. Then he said to me, "Dolores, have a good rest. There's an urgent matter at the company I need to attend to. I'll come back later."

Without waiting for my response, he left in haste.

I knew where he was going.

He wasn't going to the company. He must deliver "nutrients" to Teresa.

I pulled the IV needle from my hand.

A drop of blood welled up, staining the sheet.

My phone vibrated.

It was a message from Teresa.

It included just a photo without any text.

A tube of fresh red blood.

Another message followed from her. "Dolores, thank you for your gift. I'll live well-for both of us."

I clutched the phone tightly.

Outside, many people were gathering during the holiday.

Their vibrant colors from fireworks cast shadows on the stark white walls.

Countless families were reunited happily now, meanwhile, my unborn baby had become a cold tube of blood.

I counted my heartbeats.

One, two...

In that moment, I realized that I, the woman who loved Theo, had died on the operating table.

In less than twenty-four hours after surgery, every slight movement sent a searing pain through me.

Bella Powell, Teresa's mother, called me. ""Dolores, stop lying in bed! Get back home right now! It is a family dinner to celebrate Teresa's successful surgery this evening. Stop acting like you're dead."

My hand shook as I held the phone. "Mom, I just had surgery..."

"Shut up! Don't call me 'Mom.' Marrying Theo didn't make you one of us. You know your place in this family. Teresa just had a transplant and wants to have the soup you make. If I don't see that soup on the table by six, you can get out of the Powell family!"

The call ended abruptly.

I glanced at Theo. He was sitting nearby and engrossed in his documents.

He had heard everything, but he didn't even bother to look up.

"Theo, I..."

"If Bella wants you back, then go back." Theo turned another page and said in an indifferent tone, "Besides, Teresa wants to see you."

"But I just had surgery..."

"It was a minor procedure. Teresa's transplant was far more serious." He finally looked up at me, and his gaze was icy cold. "Teresa had a hematopoietic stem cell transplant. It was a major surgery. Your discomfort will pass if you just push through."

I looked at him and suddenly felt it was laughable.

In the past, when I had painful menstrual cramps, he had cancelled a meeting where he was discussing million-dollar deals to rush home, made me some warm soup, and warmed my stomach with his hands.

He used to say, "Dolores, you're my precious. I can't stand seeing you suffer even a bit."

It turns out that was only because I hadn't yet needed to sacrifice for Teresa.

When it came to Teresa, I was nothing more than a means to an end, a tool without feelings.

I forced myself out of bed and returned to the Powell villa, still weak from surgery.

The villa was brightly lit, filled with cheer.

I was the only dark cloud.

I tied on an apron and stood in the kitchen.

Recovering from surgery continued intermittently, and cold sweat soaked through the clothes on my back.

While chopping vegetables, waves of pain shot through my abdomen.

Two hours later, I served the steaming soup in the dining room.

The family was gathered around the table happily. They formed a picture of warmth.

As I entered, all laughter abruptly ceased.

Teresa, in silk pajamas, looked healthy. She was not like someone who just had a transplant at all.

She called out sweetly, "Theo, I want some soup."

Theo immediately stood up, took the bowl from my hands, blew on it gently, and brought it to her lips.

Teresa took a sip and suddenly frowned. "It's hot!"

With a flick of her hand, half the bowl of scalding soup spilled onto the back of my hand.

I gasped in pain-my skin burned and turned red.

Before I could react, Bella rushed over.

She grabbed my arm and shook me sharply. "You are careless! Are you trying to scald Ruben to death?"

She inspected Teresa's hand over and over again.

Though there was no visible mark, she shed tears as she felt so sorry for Teresa.

My father, Kevan Powell, frowned and slammed his spoon onto the table. "Can't you do anything right? Go wait outside until you've calmed down and learned some sense!"

I clutched my red, swollen hand and instinctively looked at Theo.

He was my husband.

Even if he no longer loved me, surely he would say something for the sake of the baby we just lost.

But he didn't.

Theo was focused on blowing gently on Teresa's fingers. "Does it hurt? Let me take you to put on some ointment."

As for me?

He didn't spare me even a glance.

I was like invisible trash, despised by all.

The door slammed shut behind me, cutting off the warmth and laughter inside.

Outside, it was snowing heavily.

Snowflakes landed on my shoulders and quickly melted into icy water that seeped into my clothes.

I sank onto the cold ground, my legs trembling from exhaustion and pain.

My heart began to beat erratically and pound against my chest.

Through the large windows, I saw Theo helping Teresa have fish, meticulously deboned.

Teresa smiled blissfully and planted a kiss on his cheek.

What a perfect couple they made!

And what was I?

Was I just a stepping stone in their love story?

Was I a supporting character destined for sacrifice?

A bitter taste rose in my throat.

I pressed a hand to my chest, coughing weakly as tears mixed with melting snow.

In that moment, I felt overwhelming shame-not for who I was, but for how desperately I'd wanted their love.

I was ashamed of having begged for belonging in a family that never saw me as one of their own.

I was ashamed of groveling like a dog, seeking a semblance of family affection.

I realized that I was so pathetic.

I saw them as family, but how did they see me?

My vision blurred with tears. For a moment, I thought I saw my mother's face in the falling snow-gentle, sorrowful, as if urging me to stop suffering in silence.

I woke up in the hospital corridor.

Theo didn't bring me there, but a passing security guard found me fainted in the snow and called an ambulance.

The doctor looked at my test results and shook his head. "Miss Powell, your heart condition is serious. You'll need specialized treatment and ongoing medication-likely costing several hundred thousand dollars."

Five hundred thousand.

I had the money.

Although I didn't hold any real power, I actually worked on the ore projects at the Powell company.

At the beginning of the year, the company distributed year-end bonuses based on performance, and I had a fifty-five-thousand bonus.

I'd earned that bonus through months of grueling work on the ore projects.

Dragging my ailing body, I rushed to Theo's office.

As I pushed open the door, I froze.

Theo was sitting in his chair, playing with a check in his hand.

Across from him sat Teresa, eagerly browsing an auction catalog on her iPad. "Theo, I really like this antique piano, but it's a bit expensive. It costs five hundred thousand."

Theo smiled indulgently and handed her the check. "Buy it. If you like it, no matter the price, we'll get it."

I saw the number on the check clearly.

It was fifty-five thousand.

It was precisely my year-end bonus.

I was overcome with anger as I rushed forward and pressed down on the check. "This is my money!" I stared at Theo with intensity. "This is my year-end bonus! It's the reward for my work on the projects!"

Teresa was startled and shrank back into Theo's arms. "Dolores, why are you so fierce..."

Theo frowned and brushed my hand away. "What do you mean? Your money? The company belongs to the Power family, so naturally, the money does, too. Teresa just had surgery and is in a bad mood. She needs to buy something to cheer up. You're her sister. Do you really want to squabble over this money?"

I stared at him in disbelief. "Squabble over this money? Theo, I need that money for my treatment!"

I pointed to my chest and said in a trembling voice, "The doctor said without proper care, my condition could become life-threatening!

Theo pulled out a file and frowned. "Your last check-up showed only mild arrhythmia. Why are you making it sound so dire? Is this really about the money?"

I looked at the report and felt as if struck by lightning.

The report wasn't mine-or at least, not the full truth. Someone had downplayed my condition long ago.

So Theo never trusted me.

Even when I collapsed from pain, he never believed me.

In his eyes, it was all an act. It was a ploy for sympathy.

"Theo, don't blame her." Teresa feigned innocence, tugging at his sleeve. "Since she wants the money so badly, just give it to her. I won't buy the piano."

"No way," Theo was resolute. "We can't indulge her when she is so greedy."

He took out a black bank card from his wallet and tossed it at me. "Use this. Stop acting like you haven't seen the world. Shame on you."

I picked up the bank card.

It was a supplementary card with a very low limit.

But I had no choice.

I need to survive. I had to buy the medication.

Swallowing my humiliation, I ran to the pharmacy. "Give me two boxes of imported targeted heart medication."

The pharmacist took the bank card and swiped it through the machine.

"Beep-" The red light came on.

The pharmacist handed the bank card back and looked peculiar. "Miss, this bank card is frozen."

I was stunned. "Impossible! This is Theo's bank card!"

Unwilling to give up, I asked him to try again.

It still didn't work.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a message from Theo. "Teresa has her eye on a piece of jewelry, and the limit isn't enough, so I froze your bank card's limit. "If your condition isn't as serious as you claim, basic supplements should suffice."

Staring at those words, a chill spread through my body.

The pharmacist sighed and set the medication aside. "If the payment doesn't go through, I can't release these."

I stood at the pharmacy entrance and watched the bustling street.

In that moment, I understood: to Theo, my well-being meant less than a trinket for Teresa.