Chapter 8

When I woke up several hours later, three tiny, perfect sleeping babies were resting safely in the incubator beside my bed. Damien was gently wiping the sweat from my forehead and body with a warm towel. His tall, lean frame towered over me, dark hair falling perfectly over his hypnotic eyes, chiseled jawline sharp and seductive. He looked exhausted but radiantly happy.

I was about to speak when I heard a piercing scream from the next suite. It was Isabella’s voice.

“I can’t do this anymore! I don’t want to birth any more children—just kill me, please, end the pain!”

“Miss Isabella, hold on! It’s almost over—push!”

Her cries mixed with the doctors’ urgent encouragements. Our private suites were separated by only a thin wall.

She was still in labor—hours longer than me.

“Sophia, that was tough on you,” Damien whispered, kissing my forehead. His gaze overflowed with worry, guilt for not being able to spare me any pain, and pure, overwhelming love. “Is it too noisy here? Should I take you and the babies home right now for proper rest and quiet?”

In my past life, after I gave birth, Alex had only had eyes for the child. He ignored my day-and-night ordeal, immediately shoving the baby into my arms and demanding I nurse while he celebrated with the board. He didn’t care about my torn body or exhaustion—only the power the heir brought.

But Damien’s focus had been entirely on me from the first contraction to the last. He hadn’t even asked me to tend to the three little ones—he had guarded them himself the entire time, never leaving my side.

“It’s fine,” I said softly, still weak but curious. “I want to check on Isabella’s delivery… for closure.”

This time I felt almost no birth pain. The three tiny babies had come out so easily I had literally slept through most of it. I got up slowly, leaving Damien to watch the children, and walked to the next suite.

Isabella lay on the bed, crying her heart out, face twisted in agony. Each time she nearly passed out from pain, the doctors kept her alert with sharp commands.

Half an hour later the final child came out fully.

When the doctor saw the baby’s appearance, she gasped in horror. “Miss Isabella has birthed a severely compromised child with multiple congenital issues!”

I leaned in and jumped back in shock. The infant had clear, visible deformities caused by the illegal fertility drugs she had overdosed on.

Alex heard the commotion and burst through the door. He froze at the sight, face draining of color.

Isabella wore a forced loving smile, but the deformed child latched onto her breast with loud, desperate sucking sounds.

“Ugh.” Alex gagged visibly, covering his mouth and running out of the room.

Isabella smirked sarcastically through her tears. “It’s his own child—how can he find it disgusting?”

Word of the Blackwood family birthing a severely compromised child spread like wildfire across every business network and gossip site. It even reached the top medical ethics boards. The specialist examined the infant and asked Isabella directly, “Miss Isabella, did you consume anything unusual during pregnancy? This child should have been perfectly healthy.”

Isabella’s face went deathly pale. Her right hand shook violently as she pulled a small vial from her purse and handed it over. “I… I took this. Can you save my child?”

The doctor opened the vial, smelled it, and nodded with grim understanding. “This is a banned, underground fertility enhancer from shady overseas suppliers. The safe dosage is one per day for thirty days maximum. Anything more causes exactly these kinds of severe complications.”

The supplier was immediately dragged in by Blackwood security.

Isabella spotted the man and lunged at him, grabbing his throat and screaming, “Why isn’t my child normal? Why did he turn out like this? You promised me twins!”

The man trembled in terror. Seeing the deformed infant, he shoved Isabella away and knelt before Alex, begging. “This is clearly because Miss Isabella didn’t follow instructions! She overdosed heavily—otherwise none of this would have happened!”

Isabella stared daggers at him. “Didn’t you say taking them for thirty days straight would guarantee pregnancy? So if I took them for sixty days, wouldn’t I get twins and lock in the heir faster?”

Isabella’s desperate, greedy words made everyone in the room understand exactly what had happened. If she had followed the instructions she would have had a normal child. But she had gotten too greedy, too impatient, too willing to destroy her own body for power.

This final mess turned the entire Blackwood family into the ultimate laughingstock of the business world. Their stock crashed another 18%. Rumors flew everywhere: “Alex Blackwood is struggling with fertility, his wife cheated with half the company and then used illegal drugs to force a pregnancy.”

Alex was in a foul, dangerous mood for weeks. Isabella’s days inside the Blackwood circle became pure hell—daily public humiliation, private torment, and complete loss of status.

A month later I was on my way home after buying the softest organic blankets and custom nursery furniture for my three babies when I spotted Isabella clutching a large basket tightly to her chest, sneaking into a dark service alley behind the hotel district. I had heard through discreet channels that she had been driven completely mad by Alex’s nightly brutal torment and the endless gossip. She had started stealing other people’s infants around the elite circles in desperate attempts to replace what she had lost.

I didn’t think much of it at first and headed home happily to see my little ones.

But when I walked into our penthouse the door was wide open. The nursery was empty. The three tiny babies were gone.

My heart stopped. In my panic I remembered the distinctive green silk cloth peeking from Isabella’s basket—it looked exactly like the handkerchief I had left on my desk earlier that day.

I grabbed the silver letter opener Damien had given me for protection and sprinted to the alley where Isabella had disappeared. Deep inside the maze of storage units I heard her twisted, singsong voice coming from a rundown unit.