My Husband Killed Our Kid To Save Hers Novels & Stories

He placed his hand on his shoulder and nodded his head. “Mortality rate of saving your wife is 30% while the child has a 10% chance of getting away from this, meanwhile if we take the baby out, the child can live and I am 90% sure. And if we can make it, there is a 10% chance we can revive her.” “Save my wife.” He would kneel and punish himself for making this choice against his child, but he has to do it.

The dead man isn't my husband Nathan, but his twin brother Nick! How weird! I'm dumbfounded. If Nathan is still alive, why did the texter insist that the man in the room wasn't my husband? Who killed Nick on earth? The only person who has a reason to do it is Nathan! He must have had an intense fight with Nick about the money, and accidentally killed him in a rage. "I have to call the police now!" I murmur to myself and take out my phone to dial 911.

Three months had passed since my husband vanished while hiking in the fjords. Then I spotted him in a VIP room at a Manhattan strip club, one arm wrapped around my adopted sister's waist, looking like he didn't have a care in the world. "Thank God you came up with this idea. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be free of that control freak." His friends raised their glasses and cheered, asking how much longer he planned to play dead. Alex swirled his drink as he considered the question. "Next week. Once the guilt and panic drive her crazy, I'll show up and give her a nice surprise." I stood in the shadows, watching him enjoy his newfound freedom. Then I called a friend who worked at th

He exclaimed as he told his story. "I killed her and dragged her body outdoors to the front porch. Her husband came back and saw me. I killed him too with Rafe's father's face and burnt their house down. The house was completely ablaze when I heard a child in there. I wanted to leave the child there to die too but I decided not to, and that was how I took you to foster care. I saved your life, Ivy" he turned and said to Ivy.

he shouted, completely losing control. "You already faked your own death just to hide from me. Getting a fake death certificate would be easy for you. I thought you were really dead. I spent forever investigating before I realized something was wrong. You can't joke about our child's death just to punish me. That's seriously irresponsible!" He refused to believe it. Even now, he was still living inside his own version of reality. He wouldn't admit that his stupidity had indirectly killed our child. Watching him fall apart like this, I only felt a strange mix of ridicule and pity.

After my husband picked up his secretary and our son, they went into the hotel for a business meeting. Photos of them were trending online. I gave him a call to ask him about it, but he hung up on me impatiently. “I’m meeting a client. Obviously, we’re meeting at the hotel! Can you stop being unreasonable?” I was busy contacting IT support to retract the trending topics. Two hours later, I received a call from the emergency department of the hospital. When I reached the hospital, my son was already dead.

"Everyone, I am devastated by the tragic death of my son. But all of this was a conspiracy!" He tearfully accused me, "My wife, Penelope Harper, married me from the start just to scheme for the Warren family fortune! She deliberately switched the two boys' clothes to trick me into making a mistake, then used it as an excuse to team up with my father and steal everything I had in the company!" He even dragged out Celeste, who had been kicked out of the Warren family mansion and was equally desperate, to testify for him.

she asked, her tone dripping with hatred and a urge to hit him again. “You stupid woman, I did it to save you,”he said in his defense, still unable to comprehend what in the world just happened. “Save me?” she scoffed, “what sort of husband doesn’t know what his wife wants, you killed my child to save me, you liar and pretender. Zenith couldn’t be more surprised but he recovered quickly.

“I understand that you’re going through a lot of emotions now, Mrs. Johnson, but his body was badly damaged in the crash. It’s best that you don’t see him in such a state.” Before I could say anything, my mother-in-law and sister-in-law rushed to the scene. “It’s all her fault, Mom! If she didn’t demand some cake, Hank wouldn’t have gone out in the rain and got hit by a truck!” “Why, you! Give me back my son, Rochelle!” Judy, my mother-in-law, came up to hit me, but I grabbed her arm and flung her to the side. She staggered back and tore into me. “You’re vile! You got my son killed and attacked me! My poor son!”

“You little troublemaker.” His mother stood beside them, watching with a warm, satisfied smile. I stood not far away, fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. Blood dripped down, but I did not feel a thing. One of them was my husband — Cedric Foster — the man I had been told died eight years ago during a mission. The other was his mother, who was supposed to be in a long-term care facility as a vegetative patient. Yet here they were — alive, well, and building a new family with another woman.