My Son Fed Me Cake to Kill My Baby

On the third day of my hospitalization after an induced abortion, I stared blankly at the grayish-white ceiling in silence.

My bulging belly had flattened. My daughter, whom I had been looking forward to for six months, was pulled out by iron tongs.

My heart ached so badly it felt like I couldn't breathe.

Warm tears slid down my hair from the corners of my eyes. I turned my head to look at the woman lying on the hospital bed next to me. She was lucky. From her hospitalization to the birth of her child, all her family members were busy tending to everything.

My husband and son only came once during my three-day hospitalization. Then, they left in a hurry because they had to rush to watch the premiere of Winona White's play.

I received a message. It was a video Winona sent.

The background of the video was a restaurant near the theatre. Winona was still wearing delicate stage makeup. The handsome man sitting beside her, who was cutting steak into small pieces, was my husband of six years—Sterling Quest. We had been married for six years, but he had never taken such good care of me.

The only time was when I got extended gel nails for my birthday. I asked him to peel shrimp for me. As a result, he called my manicurist, who had already gotten off work, to remove my nails right away.

What had Sterling said that day?

"Sienna, do you think it's appropriate for someone of my status to peel shrimp for you? You're already a mother, yet you're still being so dramatic."

He called me, his wife, dramatic. However, he was happy to cut steak for his childhood sweetheart, Winona.

All the excuses boiled down to one thing — I was just not worthy.

I was calm as the video continued to play.

Winona happily ate the steak Sterling fed her. She then raised her fingers adorned with exquisite gel extensions and picked up a piece of broccoli with a fork to feed my son, Zac Quest.

"Ah... Zac, be good. You'll only grow taller by eating vegetables."

Broccoli was Zac's least favorite vegetable.

In the past, he threw a tantrum just because I accidentally placed a small piece of broccoli on his plate. He smashed the plate and cried his heart out.

I eventually had to promise that I would never make broccoli for him again before he was willing to talk to me again.

Now, Zac ate the broccoli Winona gave him with a smile. One by one, he finished the whole bowl of broccoli. His eyes were round and bright as he looked at Winona's camera with trust and joy. "I like Ms. White the most!"

Winona smiled coquettishly and smugly, asking him, "You don't like your mom?"

Zac's delicate face immediately showed disgust, and his tone became vicious. "I hate her! I hate my mom the most. All she does is force me to learn piano and painting. She also forces me to study! I hate her! She's disgusting!"

The son I had carried for months before having a difficult birth was slandering me in front of outsiders. His father just listened quietly and indifferently. All his attention was on Winona.

It seemed I was greedy to ever think I could get the love of this pair of father and son.

Forget it. I was done with such a cold-blooded family!