The Seventh Letter in the Mailbox

The contractions came faster, harder—each one tearing through me as if my body were being ripped in two.

Trembling with pain, I felt my consciousness fraying at the edges.

Alan was no longer someone I could rely on.

I had to save myself.

With the last shred of my strength, I fumbled under the pillow for my phone. Muscle memory took over; my fingers dialed my parents in this world.

As soon as the call connected, I screamed, my voice raw and breaking. "Dad! Mom! Help me! I'm at the hospital… Alan is going to kill me…"

Before I could finish, a hand snatched the phone from my grasp.

Janet held it up, a victor’s smile on her face. Right in front of me, she pressed *end*.

"Still calling for reinforcements, Miss Ellie? At a time like this?"

She leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper meant only for me. "Do you really think they’d even be allowed inside?"

Straightening up, she turned toward Alan in the doorway, her expression melting into fragile concern. "Alan, Miss Ellie seems… unwell. Probably just very anxious. I’ll go downstairs to see if her parents have arrived and try to calm them."

Alan believed her completely, his gaze softening. "You’re always so thoughtful. Go ahead. I’ll watch things here."

Then she was gone.

Only Alan, me, and a few frozen medical staff remained in the delivery room.

Pain washed over me like a black tide, threatening to pull me under. But I couldn’t let it.

Then—that icy, mechanical voice echoed in my mind.

**[WARNING! Host's vital signs are declining! Host must strive to complete the mission!]**

A bitter laugh caught in my throat.

The mission?

My mission was to give birth to this child.

But the system never said *how*.

It only said that once the child left my body—alive or dead—the mission would be complete.

How ironic.

All this time, I believed I had to fight with everything I had to protect this child, to bring it home.

Only now did I understand: maybe I’d been wrong from the very beginning.

"Alan." With every ounce of my strength, I turned my gaze to him. "Do you really... hate me that much?"

He stood by the window, his back to me, posture rigid. But his voice was pure ice. "I don't hate you. I just despise you for occupying a place that was never yours."

"A place that was never mine..." The words tasted like ash. "The title of Mrs Ellie. *You* begged me to take it. Have you forgotten? Your family's empire was on the brink. You needed a 'miracle baby' to save it all. And I was the only one who could give you that child."

His body went rigid.

That was the Ellie family's deepest secret—the only reason I'd held the name of Mrs Ellie for four years.

Behind its glittering façade, the Alan's Group was rotten, clinging to life by a single thread: this unborn child.

"So what?"

He turned. His eyes held nothing but deep, unyielding revulsion. "You think I care? For Janet, I'd abandon the Alan's Group without a second thought. I'd give my life."

How noble. How utterly devoted.

And something inside me finally snapped.

Just then, Janet returned.

Gliding to Alan's side, she slipped her arm through his. "Alan," she said, her voice soft, "I've calmed your parents down and sent them home. I told them Ellie is fine, that there's nothing to worry about."

I stared, my gaze burning. How could one person be so utterly, irredeemably cruel?

She didn't just want me dead. She wanted to sever every lifeline.

Perhaps my expression was too raw, too fierce. Janet flinched—but then her smile only grew sweeter.

"Alan, look," she said, false concern threading her tone. "Ellie's labor isn't progressing. It starts and stops. That's not good for the baby." She paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "You know, during my internship abroad, I worked with a brilliant obstetrics professor. He taught me a method to help women in labor... Perhaps I could try it?"

Her "try" meant nurses bringing ropes to tie my wrists and ankles to the delivery bed.

Then she picked up a long syringe and drove the needle into my arm.

"Janet! What are you giving me?"

My scream was pure terror.

"Don't be afraid," she purred, all sweetness and poison. "It's to stabilize the pregnancy. You don't want to give birth, do you? I'm helping you."

Cold fluid entered my veins. The excruciating, tearing pain that had consumed me vanished as if by magic.

In its place settled a deeper, colder despair.

She was going to drain the life from me. Slowly. Deliberately.

Time ticked away—and with it, my life, draining drop by drop.

My parents never returned. I was certain Janet had deceived them.

Alan stood to one side, watching everything she did to me with cold detachment, never lifting a finger to stop it.

In his eyes, I was hardly even a person.

And I began to regret it all.

Regretting I had ever accepted this damned mission, that I had ever come to this hellish world.

If given the choice, I would never go home again rather than endure another moment of this pain.

Just as my consciousness began to fade, Janet spoke abruptly to Alan. “Alan, we can’t wait any longer. We have to operate now.”

He frowned. “But you said a natural birth would be better for the baby.”

“The situation has changed.”

Her expression turned grave. “The fetal support injection earlier—the dosage may have been too high. There’s a risk of hypoxia. We need to perform an immediate C-section!”

At the mention of danger to the “baby,” Alan stiffened.

“Then what are we waiting for? Hurry! Dr. Jeffrey, prepare for surgery—now!”

Dr. Jeffrey looked uneasy. “Mr. Alan, the anesthesiologist was just called to an emergency in another surgery. It’ll be at least half an hour before anyone can get here.”

“Half an hour?!”

Janet shrieked. “In half an hour, the baby will be dead!”

She turned to Alan, eyes reddening, tears spilling over. “Alan, what do we do? I’m so scared…”

He pulled her into his arms, his voice softening. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

Then he turned toward me, his gaze utterly cruel, as though I were nothing more than an object.

“If there’s no anesthesiologist, then we operate without anesthesia.”

He spoke slowly, coldly. “It’s just a cut across the belly. Endure it. It’ll be over soon.”

His words plunged the delivery room into a chilling silence.

Even Dr. Jeffrey looked stunned.

As for me… hearing those words, a strange calm settled over me.

I looked at that wretched couple and suddenly felt everything had become meaningless.

Fine.

Maybe dying like this would be a release.

I closed my eyes. Stopped struggling. Stopped crying out.

Seeing me so “cooperative,” Janet’s smile deepened.

She picked up a scalpel and walked toward me, step by measured step.

The cold blade sawed through skin—the sound sharp, clear, unforgiving.

I didn’t scream. Didn’t shed a tear.

I just kept my eyes open, fixed on the ceiling, trying to etch this world’s last light into my soul.

Excruciating pain wracked my body with spasms, but I made no sound.

Janet, dissatisfied, pressed harder, her movements growing brutal.

I could feel it—my child being torn from me in the cruelest way.

Then, a faint, weak cry. A weight lifted from my abdomen.

The baby was out.

With the last of my strength, I turned my head, desperate to see my child.

So small. So fragile. Blood-streaked, like a newborn kitten.

He was still moving. Still alive.

But Janet—that demon—snatched a gauze pad from nearby and, without hesitation, pressed it over the baby’s mouth and nose.

“NO—!”

My eyes nearly burst from their sockets as I unleashed the most agonized scream of my life.

My baby!

The child I’d carried for four years, suffered endless torment to bring into this world!

He hadn’t even had a chance to see it—

Alan saw it too. Shocked, he rushed over and shoved Janet away.

“Janet! What have you done?!”