Reborn From Fire: The Ex-wife's Revenge

The pain tore through Heidi's abdomen like a serrated blade.

She gripped the sterile white hospital bedsheets. Her knuckles turned a translucent white. Her fingernails bit so hard into her own palms that the skin broke, but the physical sting was nothing compared to the violent contractions ripping her body apart.

The heart monitor next to the bed emitted a frantic, high-pitched beeping. Her heart rate was spiking into the red zone.

Heidi forced her eyes open. Her vision blurred with cold sweat. She reached a trembling hand toward Nurse Laura, who stood completely still at the foot of the bed.

"Please," Heidi gasped, her throat raw. "The epidural. I need it."

Laura took a slow step back. Her face was a mask of cold indifference.

"Dr. Mercer hasn't given the order, Mrs. Page."

Another contraction hit. Heidi curled into a tight ball, a choked scream escaping her cracked lips. Her stomach muscles seized violently. She couldn't breathe. The air in the VIP delivery room felt thick, smelling of bleach and metallic blood.

Then, the heavy oak door pushed open.

The harsh, fluorescent light from the hallway spilled into the dim room.

Brigette walked in.

She wasn't wearing scrubs. She was wearing a custom Vera Wang wedding dress. The heavy silk and intricate lace dragged across the sterile linoleum floor, making a soft, sickening rustle. She stepped forward in five-inch stilettos, the sound echoing like gunshots in the quiet room.

Heidi's blurry eyes locked onto the fabric. Her breath hitched.

It was her design. The exact dress she had spent six months sketching in secret, hiding the pages because Christian always dismissed her art as the foolish doodles of a gold digger. She had poured her soul into that design for her own vow renewal, the one she never got to wear.

Brigette stopped beside the bed. She looked down at Heidi's sweat-drenched, agonizing form. A slow, mocking smirk twisted her red lips. She ran a perfectly manicured hand over the lace bodice.

"Why..." Heidi choked out, her chest heaving. "Why are you wearing that?"

Brigette reached out. Her cold fingers pinched Heidi's pale chin, forcing her to look up.

"Christian sent it to me this morning," Brigette whispered, her voice dripping with fake pity. "An engagement gift. He wanted to make sure it fit before the funeral."

Heidi's stomach dropped to the floor. A wave of nausea hit her so hard she gagged. The physical pain of labor was instantly swallowed by a massive, suffocating despair. Her lungs refused to take in oxygen.

The door swung open again. Dr. Helen Mercer walked in.

The doctor didn't even glance at Brigette in the wedding dress. She walked straight to the monitors.

"Fetal heart rate is dropping dangerously low," Dr. Mercer announced, her voice entirely devoid of emotion. "We have to make a decision now."

Brigette reached into her limited-edition Birkin bag. She pulled out her phone. The screen was already lit up with an active call. She pressed the speaker