Chapter 5
‘Marissa, what’s wrong?”
Caleb asked, his voice panicked as he tried to steady her.
But the moment his hand touched her, he froze.
His fingers were wet and sticky.
Slowly, he lifted his hand, his eyes widening in horror.
‘Blood… there’s so much blood!” he whispered.
Caleb,” Marissa whimpered, her face pale as a sheet.
My stomach hurts so much. Am I… am I going into labor?”
Her voice shook as she glanced down at her swollen belly.
‘But it’s too soon! The pastor said it needed to be a hundred days. It’s only been sixty!”
‘No! This can’t happen yet!” she cried, clutching Caleb’s shirt desperately.
‘The timing isn’t right–our baby can’t be born now!”
‘Stop worrying about that! Let’s get you to the hospital!”
Caleb barked, trying to lift her.
It was almost laughable how little he cared about the fact that I was standing right there, witnessing their pathetic
scene.
Marissa clung to him like he was her last hope, her grip frantic and desperate.
I watched them, arms crossed, a cruel smirk tugging at my lips.
If anyone else had been in the room, they might have mistaken this for a moment of deep love–a husband risking everything to save his wife.
Instead, I saw it for what it was: two people reaping what they had sown.
Caleb strained to pick her up, his body visibly weak and trembling.
He barely managed to get her off the ground when his legs buckled, and he collapsed like a rag doll.
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He lay there, twitching uncontrollably, his bloodshot eyes bulging unnaturally.
His entire body spasmed violently, and I couldn’t help but think he looked like a grotesque marionette.
Marissa screamed, clutching her belly.
Her cries filled the room as her swollen stomach rippled unnaturally, as if something inside was writhing and trying to break free.
“Help me! Please!” she sobbed, turning her tear–streaked face toward me.
“Lydia! Your husband–he’s dying! Call 911!”
I let out a low, bitter laugh.
“My husband?” I drawled mockingly.
“The man you used to ensure your precious child could be born? Now that’s what I call fatherly love.”
Marissa’s face twisted in shock.
“What… what are you saying? Do you know something?”
Feigning innocence, I shrugged and reached for the cross.
I tipped it slightly, revealing the hidden compartment at its base.
As I pulled out the folded paper and held it up, Marissa’s eyes filled with panic.
Her gaze darted between me and the paper, her lips trembling.
Unfolding it with deliberate slowness, I revealed the name written there–not Ivy’s, but Caleb’s.
“You… you switched it?” she stammered, her voice breaking with disbelief.
“Of course I did,” I said coldly, my smile razor–sharp.
“You think I’d let you sacrifice my daughter? This cross isn’t taking her life anymore–it’s taking his. And by the looks of it, it’s doing a thorough job.”
Marissa’s shock turned to fury.
She staggered toward me, pain and rage fueling her movements.
“How could you do this? Caleb is your husband! Why would you hurt him? Why would you hurt me?”
I scoffed.
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hapter 5
‘Hurt you? Marissa, do you really think you’re the victim here? Everything that’s happening right now–this is all your doing. You’re just paying the price for your choices.”
You bitch!” she screamed, her composure shattering as she lunged at me.
But as soon as she tried to stand, her strength gave out.
Her face flushed as blood drained rapidly from her body.
She wavered, then collapsed to the floor in a heap.
By now, the living room looked like a crime scene.
3lood stained the floor and Marissa’s clothes.”
Caleb lay limp and twitching, his face gaunt and pale.
sighed dramatically and reached for my phone.
‘Fine, I’ll call an ambulance,” I said, dialing 911 with a bored tone.
‘Though I don’t think either of you deserves it.”
When the paramedics arrived, the scene left them visibly shaken.
Blood was everywhere, and Marissa’s condition was critical.
Hours later, I received an update.
The doctors had been forced to induce labor to save her life, but what they delivered was not a normal baby.
The infant weighed nearly thirteen pounds but had deformed limbs and fused organs.
It didn’t have a recognizable face–just a mass of tissue that seemed more monster than child.
The baby didn’t survive, and truthfully, it had never stood a chance.
Marissa, upon seeing what she had birthed, fell apart completely.
Her screams echoed down the hospital halls as she blamed me for the loss of her child.
“She did this!”
Marissa sobbed hysterically, grabbing her husband Ethan by the collar.
“That woman–Lydia–she ruined everything! She has to pay!”
But Ethan wasn’t looking at me.
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He was looking at her with an expression of quiet rage.
Unbeknownst to Marissa, I’d sent Ethan everything–the photos, the videos, the evidence of her affair with Caleb.
He now knew the child she had carried wasn’t his.
“I’ve had enough,” Ethan said coldly, his voice sharp enough to cut through her hysteria.
Before Marissa could respond, his hand flew across her face, the slap echoing in the sterile hospital room.
“Don’t you dare blame anyone else,” he said, his voice like ice.
“You’re not upset about losing the baby–you’re upset it wasn’t Caleb’s. We’re done, Marissa. I’m filing for divorce.”
Marissa’s protests turned to incoherent wails, but Ethan didn’t look back as he walked out.
