Pregnant With His Lies

The day I agree to marry James Hunt, he is eager to announce our love to the whole world. Later, when I get pregnant, he even acquires a hospital so that I can rest easy and focus on the baby.

But during a checkup in my sixth month, I overhear a chilling conversation. "Mr. Hunt, the baby's developing well, but it's too large. The delivery could put the mother's life at risk."

James only laughs, cold and unbothered. "So what if she dies? I only married her to give me children."

The smile on my face freezes, and it feels like I have been plunged into ice.

His next words cut me even deeper. "She pushed Natasha into the water, and now Natasha can never have children. This is nothing but her retribution."

The perfect happiness I think I have is nothing more than a lie. So, I quietly register at another hospital and schedule an abortion.

James, I hope you live to regret this.

The prenatal report slipped from my hands as if jolted by electricity.

No wonder James Hunt was so quick to insist on IVF once I agreed to marry him.

Back then, I did not think much of it, assuming he just wanted a child as quickly as possible. Only now did I realize the truth. What he wanted was not a child with me, but with Natasha Smith, my stepsister.

For six months, I endured morning sickness, sleepless nights, swelling, and emotional collapse. Yet the baby I carried was not truly mine, but his and Natasha's.

I suffered through everything, and now they were planning to take my life as well.

"Mr. Hunt, here's this month's medication. If she keeps taking it, the baby will absorb nutrients faster and grow stronger.

"But if it gets too big, she won't be able to deliver naturally. She'll need a C-section." Through the door, I listened in shock as my husband calmly discussed how to risk my life.

My face went pale, and my nails dug hard into the railing along the hospital corridor. A storm of pain and bitterness churned inside me.

I wanted to burst in and confront James, but my feet felt like they were glued to the floor. In a daze, I stumbled against the door, making a noise.

"Who's there?" James asked, his voice panicked.

I quickly drew a breath, forcing myself to stay calm. "It's me, James. Are you finished? I'm tired, so I want to go home to have a good rest."

The moment the words left my lips, he rushed out, worry written all over his face. His eyes were filled with concern—so real and convincing.

"What's wrong? Were you standing too long? You should sit and wait for me. What if something happened to the baby?" He kept fussing over me, his voice full of care.

In the past, before I learned the truth, I would have been deeply touched. But now I knew that his concern was not