Hearing My Unborn Baby's Voice

'If you go through with the early C-section, both of us—mother and daughter—will die!' the soft and sweet voice said.

I sat in the wheelchair, and the words sent a jolt through my whole body. In my last life, the cry for help I'd heard had always, unmistakably, come from a boy. So why was there suddenly a girl's voice now—and where was it even coming from?

Before I could puzzle it out, my husband, Jason Rexmonde, grabbed my wrist. "The doctor says the baby's already showing signs of respiratory distress. The surgical team's prepped and ready. We need to go, now!"

'His illegitimate son is dying, and he needs my cord blood to save him. Mommy, please don't say yes,' came the little girl's voice.

I frowned. A second later, the baby nurse, Chloe Watts, chimed in urgently. "Ma'am, there's no more time. Any longer and the baby will die!"

The little girls sounded again in my mind, 'It's their baby who'll die if you wait any longer. That's why she's so desperate.

'After you die, they'll switch the babies in secret and fake the DNA results to convince your parents that boy is their only grandchild. Your father will pour his fortune into raising him, and a kid who should've grown up in the slums will get to live like a prince instead.

'The boy's at Sterling Private Hospital right now. Go see for yourself if you don't believe me.'

Jason really had come from nothing—if I hadn't taken a chance on him, he'd still be back in the slums. And it was Jason who'd found this baby nurse for me in the first place, swearing up and down she was the best in the business, someone who'd take the burden of postpartum care off my shoulders.

"Find out whether there's a child with a blood disease at Sterling Private Hospital—one who needs cord blood." I turned to my assistant, Marcus Foster, and got the words out fast.

The nurse and Jason both went pale the second they heard it.

Jason grabbed my arm. "Miley, why are you suddenly asking about this? We can look into it after the baby's out. There's no rush."

"What are you all standing around for? Get this wheelchair to the car!" Chloe snapped, then turned to bark an order at the bodyguard beside her.

The bodyguard moved to grab me. Ever since I'd gotten pregnant, Jason had insisted I hand the household over to Chloe so I could rest. For the past six months, she'd run practically everything, until she'd started acting like she actually owned the place.

"I'd like to see him try." I looked the bodyguard dead in the eye, my voice gone cold. "Don't forget who signs your paycheck every month."

"Why bring money into this?" Jason's brow furrowed, his tone turning reproachful. "Chloe just took over the household. Undermine her like this in front of everyone, and who's going to respect her after? Be reasonable. Let's get you to the hospital."

"I'll go to the hospital."

Chloe's face lit up for half a second, then went rigid.

"But first, I want an ultrasound. I need to know whether I'm carrying a boy or a girl."

Crash. A cup shattered against the floor.

Jason rushed over, looking baffled. "Didn't we already agree it doesn't matter, boy or girl? Let's just get the C-section done. We'll know the second the baby's out. Any more delay and something could happen to the baby."

This baby was one Jason and I had wanted for three years. From the moment I found out I was pregnant, the whole household had tiptoed around me, terrified something might go wrong.

But now, the anxious boy's voice rang out again in my mind, 'Mommy, I really can't breathe. Please, hurry and do the C-section. I want to meet you. I don't want to die.'

But the soft, sweet girl's voice cut back in, 'Mommy, if you cut me out right now, it's either both of us die, or I come too early and don't survive being born—and you'll never be able to have another child after that.

'My rotten excuse of a father will blame you for waiting too long, pile on the guilt until you agree to adopt that other baby, and walk his illegitimate son through the front door like it's nothing—while you watch him and the nurse play house instead, until you finally jump off a building out of grief.

'This is my second time being reborn into this. You're finally listening to me this time. Please, don't have the early C-section.'

Listening to her, a flood of images surged through my mind, the memories of my last two lives pouring in all at once.

The first time, I'd gone through with the early C-section. My daughter and I had both died, and the illegitimate son had taken her place, posing as my own flesh and blood.

The second time, I'd heard that same voice again, but I'd held out for half a month before finally giving in. The baby died the moment she was born.

After that, Jason never let up. "If you'd just had the C-section sooner, my daughter would still be alive. You're the one who killed her!"

I'd just lost my daughter, and hearing him say that broke something in me. I pressed my hands over my head. "No—it wasn't me!"

"It was you." He stared at me, ice-cold, and said it again, crueler each time.

After that, we settled into a long, silent war. I drowned in guilt until I finally caved, agreed to adopt the other child, and signed the entire trust fund over to him.

But as the boy grew older, no matter how well I treated him, he only grew more distant from me and closer to Chloe. When I tried to fire her, my mother-in-law, Denis Rexmonde, guilted me out of it. "He's used to having Chloe around. You already got your own child killed—are you going to do the same to this one? You're a curse on every child who comes near you!"

Jason piled on too. "You're the one who agreed to adopt him in the first place. Now the boy's not close to you, and you can't see that it's your own fault, always moping around and making everyone miserable?"

In the end, I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped.

Watching it all flash through my mind, I felt as though I'd lived through every second of it myself.

The sweet girl's voice continued, 'My rotten father made a deal with a doctor at that private hospital ahead of time. He's going to insist you get the C-section, and you're going to die right there on the operating table.

'Mommy, the second time, you didn't die because you dragged for half a month before getting the procedure. You didn't die, but I did.'