Pregnant and Betrayed

"Mrs. Mercer, your babies are healthy, and you are due next month. I see the ultrasound showing strong heartbeats for all three." The doctor lowered the medical chart, his expression grim and unyielding. "However, you mentioned having continuous blood draws at a private clinic. Look at the deep bruising on your arms. You cannot keep doing this. Your iron levels are dangerously low. It is a lethal risk to your unborn babies and your own fragile life! One more draw could send your body into shock."

The doctor's grave warning rang menacingly in Nora Mercer’s ears as she pushed through the heavy glass doors of the sterile hospital. The crisp afternoon wind hit her face, but she ignored the chill. Instead, she wrapped both arms protectively around her massive, nine-month pregnant belly. Inside her grew three tiny lives—triplets. She rubbed the tight fabric of her maternity dress, offering a gentle, reassuring stroke to the heavy weight at her front. A simple, innocent glow of happiness radiated from her mismatched features, fighting back the fear the doctor had just planted in her mind.

Standing near the edge of the busy hospital drop-off zone, Nora pulled out her phone. She opened her camera, angling the lens to capture a picture of her enormous baby bump bathed in the afternoon sunlight. Her fingers moved slowly across the screen, tapping out a message to her husband, Declan.

[Hey hon, this is our baby. The doctor said they are big and strong.]

She hit send and waited, seeking a desperate sliver of comfort. The screen remained agonizingly blank. She bit her lower lip, watching couples walk out of the maternity ward hand in hand. Other pregnant women had husbands carrying their bags or wrapping warm arms around their shoulders. Nora stood alone on the pavement.

[Can you swing by and pick me up, hon? Everyone else has someone with them during checkups. I miss you so much, hon.]

She clutched the phone to her chest. A year prior, Declan had found the disfigured, amnesiac Nora and brought her into his grand estate. She possessed only the mental capacity of a five-year-old due to her trauma, relying on him for her survival. He called her his "little dummy" and gave her a name because she had forgotten her own. She became his wife merely to fulfill his dying grandmother's desperate wish for a grandchild. Under Grandma Agatha's relentless push, they tied the knot, and soon after, she fell pregnant to give the frail old woman a great-grandchild before her time was up. For the past twelve months, Declan had been her entire universe.

Minutes dragged into what felt like an eternity. The bright sparkle in Nora’s eyes dimmed. The soft smile on her lips faded into a tight line of sorrow.

Unable to bear the agonizing silence any longer, Nora dialed his number. The line rang endlessly before connecting.

"Hello? Didn't I say not to bother me unless it is urgent?" Declan answered with a harsh, impatient reprimand.

Nora flinched, her grip tightening on the device. "Hon, I just finished my checkup at the hospital. Can you..."

Before she could process his coldness or explain her fear, the sweet, inquiring voice of another woman chimed into the background of the call.

"Declan, do you think I look good like this?"

Nora’s breath hitched. Her heart skipped a painful beat in her chest. She recognized that voice instantly. It belonged to Vanessa Rowell, Declan’s first love. The woman he cherished above all others.

"Stunning," Declan’s voice instantly softened, dripping with a tender affection he had never once directed at Nora. The warmth in that single word felt like a knife twisting in her gut.

Then, he spoke into the receiver again, and the freezing ice returned. "No time. Have the chauffeur pick you up. Rethink about our divorce."

The abrupt termination of the call hit Nora like a physical strike. She stood frozen, clutching the dead phone. Loss and deep confusion clouded her childlike mind. Divorce? Why did he want to send her away when she was carrying his babies?

When a sleek black company car finally arrived at the curb, Nora climbed into the backseat.

"Mrs. Mercer, Mr. Mercer sent me to fetch you," the driver announced, his tone flat and unreadable.

Grateful for the familiar vehicle, Nora leaned her head against the cool glass. But as the car rolled forward, a rising dread began to suffocate her. The driver aggressively veered off the bustling main roads, steering the heavy vehicle toward the decaying industrial outskirts of the city. The smooth asphalt turned into cracked pavement lined with dead weeds, rusted chain-link fences, and abandoned factories. The area grew desolate, devoid of pedestrians or passing traffic.

Nora sat up straight, her hands gripping the leather seat. The atmosphere inside the cabin felt thick and oppressive.

"Where are we going? Aren't we heading home?" Nora panicked, her voice trembling as she clutched her swollen belly.

The driver met her gaze through the rearview mirror. His eyes held no warmth. "Mr. Mercer's explicit instruction."

The car skidded to a halt in front of a desolate, decaying warehouse. Its corrugated metal walls were rusting, and the windows were shattered. Before Nora could unbuckle her seatbelt, the back doors were ripped open. Violent thugs reached inside, grabbing Nora by her arms. They yanked the terrified pregnant woman from the vehicle, dragging her clumsy frame into the dusty, trash-littered yard. She stumbled, barely catching her balance as her knees hit the dirt.

A man stepped forward, aggressively shoving a printed document right into her face, demanding her signature.

Nora blinked through her tears, focusing on the bold letters at the top of the page. It was a divorce agreement. She thrashed against the men holding her arms, crying out in staunch denial.

"Declan did not sign this! I will not sign! I won't!" Nora screamed, refusing to believe her husband would orchestrate such brutality.

"Look at yourself," one thug mocked, pointing a dirty finger at her deeply scarred cheek. "Your scarred face is not going to attract Mr. Mercer. You really think he cares about a dummy?"

"I want to call my husband! I don't believe you!" she cried, trusting only the man who had given her a home.

The thugs exchanged cruel laughs. To prove their point, the leader pulled out his phone, dialed Declan on speakerphone, and held it out for her to hear.

Vanessa’s urgent voice echoed through the desolate yard first. "Declan, the doctors said the blood transfusion isn't effective anymore. The surgery must happen soon."

Nora froze, the breath leaving her lungs.

Declan’s firm, reassuring voice answered back. "I will make sure Nora delivers the babies quickly. Your blood types match. Her cord blood can save you."

The call ended. The devastating, reality-shattering conversation echoed in Nora's ears. The continuous blood draws that left her dizzy and bruised. The sudden urgency for her to get pregnant. The fake smiles. It was never about Grandma Agatha's wish. It was a meticulously orchestrated farm. She was nothing but a walking supply of cord blood, kept around just to save another woman.

"You heard the boss," the thugs sneered at her horror, stepping closer. "That is Mr. Mercer's intention. Now we intend to take that umbilical cord. Get her!"

Nora scrambled backward, clutching her belly in agonizing, ripping pain. "No! Do not hurt my babies!"

She tried to fight, but the men tackled her to the concrete floor of the warehouse entrance. The brutal impact and the sheer terror threw her fragile body into chaotic, premature labor. Sharp contractions tore through her spine. She screamed in agony as the men pinned her down on the filthy ground, showing zero mercy to the mother fighting for her children's lives. Amidst the ripping pain and her desperate screams, the trauma forced the sudden delivery of two of her triplets right there in the dirt.

Before the thugs could cut the cords or extract the third child, a deafening, thunderous roar echoed from the sky above. The sheer volume of the noise shook the decaying roof panels and rattled the loose metal siding. The attackers scrambled backward, looking up in absolute panic.

"Run! Someone is coming!"

Determined to erase the evidence of their crime, the thugs snatched the two crying newborns from the ground. The leader pulled a lighter from his pocket, struck the flint, and tossed the small flame into a pile of dry, chemical-soaked grass lining the warehouse walls.

The structure instantly set ablaze. The thugs sprinted toward their vehicle, tires squealing as they fled the scene with the stolen children.

As the roaring inferno rapidly consumed the structure, Nora lay bleeding on the concrete. She cradled her stomach where one baby still remained. The blistering heat licked at her skin, searing her arms. Her vision blurred. The crushing truth settled heavily into her fading consciousness. Declan had deceived her from the very start. Every touch, every word, every drawn vial of blood—all a lie to save Vanessa.

Through the suffocating haze of thick black smoke, a gentle, older voice pierced the roaring flames.

"Clara... my sweetheart," Grandpa Edgar called out, his footsteps rushing through the fire. "I am sorry for being late."

Miles away from the burning warehouse, the fleeing thugs sped down a dark, remote road. The leader dialed Vanessa, cradling the stolen children in the backseat.

"Ms. Rowell, everything is done as per your instructions. She signed the papers."

Filled with malicious spite, Vanessa sneered through the phone. "Good. That dummy must die in the fire. Bring the children to me."

"Yes, ma'am. There are twins," the thug confirmed, eyeing the crying infants. A greedy glint flashed in his eyes. "But considering the extreme risk we took to get them, you need to raise our payment..."

Mid-sentence, the thug froze in absolute terror.

The getaway car had been forced to a halt, and looming over the open passenger window was a towering, shadowy figure. The man exuded a lethal, oppressive aura that swallowed the light around them. Before the thug could react, the figure reached in, snatching the phone from his grip and crushing the device to end the call.

The shadowy figure extended a broad, threatening hand into the cabin.

"Give me the children."

Meanwhile, back in his pristine corporate office, Declan sat behind his mahogany desk, massaging his temples. His private phone buzzed, vibrating against the polished wood. He picked it up, expecting to hear from his transport team.

Instead, he received a deeply perplexing call from his actual chauffeur.

"Mr. Mercer?" the driver asked, his voice laced with heavy confusion. "What do you mean by sending me here? I have searched the entire hospital perimeter. I failed to find Nora."