Pray That I Don't Haunt You
As my due date approaches, my husband's precious mistress falls into the water at a banquet. After being rescued, she immediately accuses me of pushing her.
To "avenge" her, he throws me into a modified stainless steel water tank. I beg him, pleading for the sake of our unborn children.
But he only sneers. "Don't try to use the babies to guilt me! You've still got a week before you're due. I know exactly how vicious you are—any child of yours would be just as rotten. Stay in there and reflect on your behavior. I'll let you out when you finally admit you're wrong!"
Five days later, my husband returns home from a night out with his mistress, calling for me to come downstairs and serve them, as always.
He doesn't know that my babies and I have already rotted beyond recognition.