The Deaths Of Three

“Why isn’t Jane screaming anymore?”

“Sir, do you think… something happened to the madam? She screamed so badly yesterday, and she sounded like she was in serious pain…”

Mark Frank, my husband, took a mouthful of his breakfast and huffed as if he did not agree with the butler. “No one knows Jane better than I do. She was just putting up an act! This time, I’ll teach her a lesson so that she won’t bother Rachel again!”

The butler cast a glance at the attic and stammered, “But the madam is pregnant with twins, and the doctor did say that she needs to be hospitalized ahead of her delivery date for a safe delivery…”

Mark paused while eating his breakfast and relented a little. “Is that so?”

He dug around his bowl for a bit before a hesitant look appeared on his face. “Fine. Have Jane make breakfast for me before she apologizes to Rachel. It’s her delivery date today, so if she delivers a sincere apology, I’ll send her to the hospital.”

He then heated up some milk and went to the guest bedroom.

On the bed was Rachel Foster, and she was breathing evenly. The blanket slid to her shoulders, and her alluring figure was visible.

It made Mark gulp. After staring at her for a long while, he finally looked away before bending down to kiss her.

Rachel opened her eyes slowly and stretched before she pouted and grumbled, “Mark, you’re being incorrigible again.”

Mark spread his legs and had Rachel sit between his arms while he caressed her waist.

“No man can hold himself back when you’re sleeping like this.”

Rachel buried her head in his arms and hummed in contentment. “But Jane is pregnant with your children. I’m a woman, too, so I can’t have you betray her while she’s at her weakest!”

Suddenly, she seemed to have remembered something and said anxiously, “Jane was screaming really loudly last night. Did she give birth? Ah… even if Jane was screaming so badly, I’m jealous. If I could carry your children, no matter how much it hurts during delivery, I’d still be happy.”

Would she still be happy?

I had become a ghost and was drifting around them.

The floor in the attic was covered in blood.

On the walls were deep gashes that were stained with bits of my flesh and nails because I had dug into them in pain.