Two Women, One Rescue

When Ryan stabbed me five times, my white dress was quickly soaked with crimson blood. He pressed the bloodied knife against my vulnerable neck.

"Call David," he said. His hand trembled with rage.

Pale-faced, I hesitated briefly before dialing, "I've been taken by Ryan. He's stabbed me several times, up on our neighborhood rooftop. Come rescue me quickly." My voice quivered.

A moment of silence followed, then a response devoid of concern—cold and dismissive: "Really? What timing. Ashley falls apart and tries to kill herself, and now you're being stabbed," David said. His tone was utterly detached.

"How could Ryan possibly know our new address? I was so careful with my confidential work," he didn't believe me.

"Next time, try to come up with a more believable lie before your little performance, okay?" he said. The sarcasm dripped from his words.

The icy words crackled through the phone. Ryan's dark eyes blazed with intense hatred, his grip tightening. A fresh crimson line appeared on my neck.

Terrified but fighting to appear calm, I pleaded, "I'm not trying to stop you from saving Ashley. If you don't believe me, just send two of your people to check—" My breath caught in my throat.

"Enough!" David cut me off impatiently. "Stop acting. I don't have time for this. I'm going to save Ashley," he said. His voice was sharp and dismissive.

He turned to the operator, "Mark the 'rooftop stabbing' as a false report. Don't process any calls about this," he instructed. His command was cold and final.

The phone went dead. Silence crashed around me.

Ryan's hatred intensified. A suffocating despair washed over me.

I never imagined David could be so ruthless.

In my previous life, when Ryan—harboring resentment toward David—first kidnapped me, he had also started by stabbing me five times, "I'll make you pay," he muttered. His eyes gleamed with vengeance.

Terrified of losing my child, I had made countless phone calls begging David to come and save me, "Please, you have to help me," I sobbed. My voice broke with desperation.

Eventually, David gave in to my pleas and rushed to my rescue, "I'm coming," he said. His tone was distant.

When Ashley learned about this, she suddenly broke down and set fire to her rental apartment, burning herself alive, "I can't go on," she whispered. The flames engulfed her.

That night, sensing something was off, I asked David if he was angry, "Are you mad at me?" I said. My hand trembled.

He changed his demeanor instantly, gently touching my belly, "How could I be angry with you?" he said. His voice was soft and reassuring. "She died because she deserved it. Don't worry, my love. Just focus on giving birth."

During that time, David cared for me meticulously, "I'll take care of everything," he promised. His eyes seemed to hide something.

I thought he had finally understood, "Thank you for being here," I whispered. My hope was fragile.

Until the day I gave birth, when he tied me to the hospital bed, his eyes blood-red, and stabbed our baby dozens of times, demanding we join Ashley in atonement, "You'll pay for what happened," he growled. His knife glinted menacingly.

"It was just a few knife cuts. You weren't going to die. Why did you force me to leave that day?" he said. Rage burned in his eyes.

"If you hadn't lied about how serious the situation was, I wouldn't have left. I can't believe I fell for your nonsense," David continued. His words were like ice.

"She died alone. She was always afraid of being lonely. How desperate must she have been?" he said. A twisted sympathy crept into his voice.

"Rachel, you always wanted a child. Now I'll let you experience what it's like to lose someone you love most," he whispered. His smile was cold and calculating.

David stabbed again and again. Our baby's tiny body gradually became a mangled mess of flesh.

I desperately tried to explain the real danger I had been in, "Please, you have to listen," I begged. Tears streamed down my face.

But this only made him more violent. He didn't believe me, "Lies," he spat. His rage knew no bounds.

I still remember my full-term baby's horrific death—not a single patch of intact flesh remained. Even the bones were exposed.

After our baby died, David set the VIP hospital room on fire, ensuring I would burn just like Ashley, "Now we're even," he said. The flames licked the walls.

When I recalled my previous life, that feeling of hopeless despair nearly consumed my remaining sanity.

Seeing that I couldn't get David to come, Ryan's eyes turned blood-red, and he stabbed me more than ten times, each stab filled with hatred.

A hot stream of blood flowed down my legs, dripping onto the rooftop's black floor.

In my moment of absolute despair, my mother-in-law suddenly appeared.

Seeing me covered in blood, she nearly collapsed.