Cord Blood Lies: The Whole Family Begged for Forgiveness

Eight months pregnant, my family threw me a loving baby shower.

When fire broke out, my parents instantly shielded my blood-cursed sister and fled, leaving me behind to die.

My husband, Lysander, rushed into the flames to save me. His back was scorched raw, yet he only cradled my belly, whispering, “You and the baby must be safe.”

I thought that was love.

Until I accidentally saw his messages to my sister—

“Once she gives birth, the cord blood will save you. Just hold on a little longer.”

I touched the life kicking inside me and smiled silently.

The next day, I scheduled a termination.

And on the day of the procedure, they stormed into my hospital room with sedatives and restraints.

...

I had just gotten the appointment slip for the termination when I walked right into Lysander helping my stepsister, Elara, to her check-up.

Seeing me, Lysander’s steps faltered.

“Aria? What are you doing at the pack clinic? The Healer said your next check-up wasn’t for another week.”

He stared at my stomach, his face a mask of tension.

I used to think it was concern. Now I knew the truth. I was just a living container, incubating the cure for her.

“Just… not feeling right. Thought I’d get checked.”

His response was immediate, his grip on my arm tightening. “What’s wrong? What did the Healer say? Is the pup alright? Did they run the scans?”

He pulled me closer, his hand splaying over my belly, his eyes full of a desperate, possessive care.

Elara shot me a venomous look. “Can’t even carry a pup properly. Useless. If anything happens to that bloodline, I’ll make you regret it.”

Wordlessly, I handed him the ultrasound result I’d just gotten.

He scanned it, and his shoulders slumped in visible relief. “Good. The pup is strong. You should go home and rest. Elara has more tests. I’ll be back after.”

His other hand never left Elara’s back.

I used to excuse his excessive attention to her as affection for my family. I was a fool.

I watched them walk away, then followed.

They entered the office of the head Healer for blood ailments—my father.

I pressed against the door, my enhanced hearing picking up every word.

“Elara’s condition is deteriorating. The blood curse is accelerating. We can’t wait,” Lysander’s voice was strained.

My father’s tone was grim. “We need the cord blood from Aria’s birth. Just two more months.”

“She might not have a month!” Lysander snapped.

“Then we induce early. Eight months is viable for a pup.”

A new voice, cold and clinical, came from the corner. My mother. A senior Healer from the birthing suites.

It felt like silver claws raking through my chest, shredding my lungs. They were all in on it. Every single one. And I’d actually believed, for one pitiful moment, that carrying the future Alpha’s heir had finally earned me their love.

“But… the pup. Aria’s body. An early forced birth carries risks,” Lysander said, and a pathetic spark of hope flickered in me.

My mother’s voice cut through it. “Elara’s survival is paramount. Nothing else matters.”

I stared at the woman who bore me, my heart howling in silent agony.

Elara’s weak, simpering voice chimed in. “Lysander… you sound so worried about her pup. Don’t tell me you’ve developed feelings for your… temporary mate?”

Lysander’s reply was swift, laden with disgust. “Never. I bonded with her to nurture a pure-blood heir whose cord blood would save you. Once the pup is out, she is nothing to me.”

Tears blurred my vision. My hand clenched around the small pouch in my pocket—the wolfsbane and silver-dust mixture the rogue Healer had given me. A draught to quietly end a pregnancy. A way out they’d never see coming.

I tipped my head back and swallowed the bitter contents whole.