Reborn as Their Child After He Killed Me Six Times

The delivery room doors were slammed open with a bang as Derek Lewis rushed in.

“Claire, what happened?”

Claire White collapsed on the delivery bed, her damp bangs clinging to her forehead. She pointed at me in the nurse’s arms, her face filled with terror.

“Derek… how could this happen… how is this possible?!”

The room reeked of blood mixed with disinfectant, dulling the senses.

Derek followed the direction of her finger. The moment his gaze landed on me, he froze in place.

My face was a mirror of the one he remembered—Sherry Warren’s.

Even the faint beauty mark on the tip of the nose was exactly the same.

He looked down at me as if struck by lightning.

“How could this be…”

His throat went dry as he took me from the nurse. His fingers turned pale from gripping too tightly, and a trace of guilt and longing surfaced in his eyes.

Claire was immediately triggered by that look.

Wrapped in her hospital gown, she screamed, “This isn’t my child! Throw it away! Get rid of it right now!”

I heard that and thought, “Are you serious?”

Absolutely not.

I had just started this new life. No way I was getting eliminated at the starting line.

I burst into loud cries, pushing my voice to the limit. But the moment my eyes caught Derek, I abruptly cut it off, leaving only soft, aggrieved sobs.

Tears clung to my lashes as I stretched out my tiny arms toward him, telling him to hold me.

The man froze where he stood. Something soft in his chest tightened under my tears and extended hands, throwing his breathing off rhythm.

He looked down at me, guilt surging in his eyes like a rising tide, almost spilling over.

“Claire…” Derek’s voice was hoarse.

“The heart beating inside you still belongs to Sherry. Perhaps that's exactly why the child looks like her.”

Claire refused to listen. She grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him.

“I won’t accept this. This is not my child!”

Derek raised one hand to block it, pulling me into his arms, his voice firm and leaving no room for argument.

“Claire, stop this. She is our child.”

With that single sentence, my fate was decided.

Derek’s attitude was exactly what I had expected.

We had been married for four years, and he had always wanted a child, but fate had other plans—he had a low sperm count.

IVF, herbal treatments, artificial insemination… we had tried almost everything, and all of it failed.

If I hadn’t chosen Claire’s womb as a vessel, he would never have become a father in this lifetime.

Seeing that Derek had made up his mind, Claire glared at me with open disgust.

But she could only grit her teeth and swallow her anger.

After all, in the Lewis family, Derek had the final say.

After being discharged and returning home, Claire couldn’t even be bothered to keep up appearances.

She didn’t even spare me a glance and directly handed me over to the nanny.

“Feed her formula from now on. Don’t bother me unless it’s necessary.”

As if I would let her have her way.

The moment the nanny brought the bottle to my mouth, I sucked once, then immediately turned my head.

Pfft!

I spat the entire mouthful of milk onto Claire’s favorite silk nightgown. The milky stain spread across her calf, warm and sticky.

She shrieked and jumped back.

“You little brat. Eat if you want. If not, then starve!”

So, I went on a hunger strike.

I refused formula and a wet nurse.

In just two days, my face turned sallow from hunger, my cries loud enough to shake the house.

Derek was urgently called back from overseas overnight.

The moment I saw him, I stopped crying.

My tiny hand grabbed onto his index finger, and I let out a soft giggle.

The man’s heart instantly gave way. He lowered his voice and gave an order, “Have Claire feed her personally.”

Claire was dragged over by the servants, reluctantly undoing her buttons.

The moment I latched on, I bit down. My gums were soft, but it was still enough to make her gasp in pain.

Once I was full, I stretched my arms out again, asking Derek to hold me.

He scooped me into his arms, his tone calm but laced with warning, “Claire, the baby only takes your milk. Feed her on time from now on. Don’t let her go hungry again.”

From then on, the moment I felt hungry, Claire had no choice but to bare herself.

Her skin was left marked and raw from my bites, yet she could only dig her nails into her own palm, swallowing every scream.