CHAPTER 1: THE LABOR ROOM

"Push, Mrs. Sterling! Push!"

Pain spread through my whole body. I held the sides of the bed so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

"I can't," I gasped. "Something is wrong."

"You're doing well. Just one more push."

"That's what you said ten minutes ago!"

That morning, I had knelt at the temple and begged Lady Mercy to protect my babies. The doctor had warned me that my pregnancy was dangerous. I was carrying five babies, which meant there were five chances for something to go wrong.

"Please," I had whispered to the statue. "Let my babies come into this world safely."

Now, my prayer was being answered in the most frightening way.

"Clara!" Ethan's voice came from the other side of the door. He sounded angry, not worried. "Is she giving birth yet?"

"Mr. Sterling, you cannot come in right now," a nurse replied.

"I'm her husband."

"Then please wait outside."

"Wait outside?" Ethan laughed in disbelief. "I don't wait for anything."

"Take a deep breath, Mrs. Sterling. Push!"

I screamed. The room began to spin around me. Then I heard a sound I would never forget: the cry of a newborn baby.

The nurse smiled as she cleaned her hands.

"Congratulations. You have a daughter."

"A girl," I whispered, tears filling my eyes. "My first princess."

"Push again. There's another baby."

"Another one?" I cried. "Oh, God! It hurts!"

"You're almost there. Keep pushing!"

"I can't do it anymore. I'm running out of strength."

"Yes, you can. Look at me. Breathe with me."

"Breathe? You try breathing when it feels like your body is being torn apart!"

Within minutes, the room was filled with the cries of newborn babies.

Then the nurse looked up at me. Her expression changed.

"Mrs. Sterling," she said softly. "You have five little princesses."

I laughed through my tears.

"Five?"

"Five daughters. All of them are healthy."

"Five?" a woman's voice suddenly shouted from the hallway. "Did you say five?"

Margaret Sterling pushed past the nurses and entered the room. Her heels made sharp sounds against the floor as she walked. Ethan followed behind her, his jaw tight.

"Where is my grandson?" Margaret demanded.

"Mrs. Sterling," the nurse replied carefully, "your daughter-in-law has given birth to five girls."

Margaret's face turned red, then white.

"Five girls? Not even one boy?"

"Mother, lower your voice," Ethan snapped. But his own face had turned pale.

"Lower my voice? Do you know what people will say? Five girls in one birth!"

Margaret turned toward me. Her eyes were as sharp as glass.

"Five jinxes! How could you do this to my family?"

I stared at her, unable to believe what she was saying.

"I did nothing to your family. I gave birth to my children."

"You gave birth to bad luck!"

I pulled the blanket over my chest and held my daughters close to me.

"They are not jinxes, Margaret. They are my babies."

"Your babies?" Ethan gave a short, cold laugh. "The Eastwood family needs an heir, Clara. A son. Not a nursery full of girls."

"Ethan, look at them," I begged, my voice shaking. "Please. Just look at our daughters."

He did not move.

He stared at the tiny babies as if they were strangers. There was no love in his eyes. There was no happiness and not even a little kindness.

"I can barely look at them," he said coldly. "I need a son, not five useless girls!"

"They are your daughters!"

"And they are not useful to me."

Ethan reached into his jacket, took out a thick envelope, and threw it onto the bed. It landed beside my knees. Yellow tabs stuck out from the pages.

"Divorce papers," he said. "Sign them."

"Ethan, I just gave birth. I'm bleeding."

"Then sign them quickly. Before you do anything stupid."

"Stupid?" I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. "I carried these babies for nine months!"

Margaret stepped closer to the bed.

"Since you cannot give my son an heir, someone else will. Ethan has other choices."

"Choices?" My heart sank. "You mean another woman?"

"I mean a woman who can give this family what it needs."

Ethan bent over the bed. His voice became low so that only I could hear him clearly.

"And get rid of them, Clara. Before you sign. I want a son, not five useless girls. Do you understand me? Terminate them."

The room became silent.

The nurse dropped her clipboard.

I looked at Ethan, hoping I had heard him wrongly.

"You want me to end my daughters' lives?" I whispered.

"I want you to be practical."

"Sir, you cannot say that in this room," the nurse said firmly.

"I can say whatever I want in a room I paid for."

I looked down at my five daughters.

Their tiny faces were red and wrinkled. Their little fists opened and closed against the blanket. They were so small. So innocent. And they were completely mine.

They had done nothing wrong. They had only just opened their eyes to the world, yet their own father was already treating them like a mistake.

"Get out," I said.

For the first time that day, my voice was steady.

"Get out of this room."

Ethan straightened his cuffs. He looked at the babies one last time before turning his eyes away.

"Sign the papers, Clara," he said. "Then this is over."

"Over?" I cried. "We have just become a family!"

Margaret smiled as if she had already won.

"Be smart about this, dear. Men like my son do not change their minds."

Ethan turned toward the door.

"Wait!" I cried. "Who will take care of them when you are gone?"

He did not even look back.

"Not me."

"Ethan!"

"Let the nurses handle it," Margaret said. "They are good at handling girls."

The door opened.

Ethan walked out. The sound of his shoes slowly faded down the hallway.

I stared at the door, waiting for him to turn around. I waited for him to remember that he had five daughters lying in that room. I waited for him to remember me, the woman who had carried his children for nine months.

But he never came back.

My eyes filled with tears as I looked down at my babies.

I had dreamed of this day for so long. I had imagined my husband's smile, his gentle hands holding our children, and the happiness we would share as a family.

Instead, I was lying in a hospital bed, weak and in pain, with five newborn daughters and a husband who wanted nothing to do with them.

How could a man be so cruel?

Then, suddenly, a soft, clear voice filled the room.

The voice did not come from anyone standing there.

"Congratulations, Host. You have successfully delivered five little lucky stars."

I froze.

The nurse looked around the room, but nobody else seemed to hear the voice.

"Super Mom System activating."

I pressed my hand against my chest.

"Who is that?" I whispered. "Who's talking?"

No one answered.

But the air seemed to hum, and a bright blue screen suddenly appeared in front of my eyes.

I blinked several times, thinking the pain and tiredness were making me imagine things.

But the screen was still there.

Mission One: Keep your five lucky stars alive and safe.

I stared at the words, confused.

"Mission? What mission?"

Before I could ask anything else, the system spoke again.

This time, its voice sounded like thunder.

"Warning, Host. The man who just turned his back on his daughters will regret tonight."