When He Begged

Pain ripped through my abdomen like fire, each contraction more vicious than the last. I gripped the hospital bed rails until my knuckles turned white, my body trembling with the effort to remain conscious. Blood soaked through the thin hospital gown beneath me, spreading like crimson wings across the white sheets.

"Breathe, Mrs. Sterling. Try to stay with us," the nurse urged, her voice distant through the haze of agony.

I wanted to scream, to rage against the universe for its cruelty, but all I could manage was a broken whimper. The monitors beside me beeped frantically, measuring the failing heartbeat of the tiny life inside me.

"I'm losing the baby, aren't I?" I whispered, already knowing the answer from the way the nurses exchanged glances.

The head nurse—Clara, according to her badge—placed a gentle hand on my arm. "We're doing everything we can, but... would you like me to call your husband?"

A bitter laugh escaped my lips, startling both of us. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with sweat and blood.

"Call Marcus?" I choked out. "Why bother? He's busy celebrating."

Clara's brow furrowed. "Celebrating?"

I closed my eyes, remembering. Remembering a different life, a different death. In that life, I had died here in this very room, bleeding out as my husband fucked his ex-girlfriend in the nursery I'd prepared for our child. The memory was so vivid it felt like it had happened yesterday instead of in another lifetime.

"I know where he is," I whispered. "And what he's doing."

The pain intensified, and I bit down hard on my lip to keep from screaming. Not this time. This time would be different. I wouldn't die. I couldn't die. Not until I made him pay.

"Mrs. Sterling, you're hemorrhaging," Clara said urgently, pressing the emergency button. "We need to get you into surgery immediately."

As medical staff rushed in, preparing to wheel me away, I caught Clara's wrist with surprising strength.

"Don't call him," I said, my voice suddenly steady despite the pain tearing through me. "Promise me."

Something in my eyes must have convinced her, because she nodded slowly. "I promise."

Hours later, I lay in a private recovery room, pale but alive. The baby was gone—I'd known that before they took me into surgery. But I was alive, and that was all that mattered now.

A soft knock at the door drew my attention. Clara slipped inside, glancing nervously over her shoulder before approaching my bed.

"Mrs. Sterling," she whispered, "I don't know if I should be showing you this..."

She pulled out a tablet and tapped the screen a few times before hesitating. "Security footage from earlier today. The system flagged unusual activity in the maternity ward."

My heart stuttered painfully in my chest. "Show me."

Clara placed the tablet in my trembling hands. The grainy security footage showed the hallway outside the maternity ward. The timestamp matched when I'd been rushed into surgery.

A familiar figure strode confidently down the corridor—Marcus, immaculate