Chapter 1

Sarah Miller knew the pain was too soon, too familiar.

She lay in the sterile white hospital bed, her hands clutching her swollen belly.

The contractions ripped through her, a cruel echo of a life she' d already lost.

This time, she wouldn' t let it happen.

She fumbled for the small vial hidden beneath her pillow, the labor-suppressing drugs a desperate, forbidden shield.

Her reborn mind screamed a warning: Chloe' s child must be born first.

Only then, maybe, just maybe, would Ethan leave her and these twins alone.

A tiny, bitter hope.

She swallowed the pills dry, a grim ritual.

This was her only chance to change their fate, a sacrifice she had to make.

The monitors beside her bed beeped, oblivious to her secret war.

A nurse bustled in, all smiles and efficiency.

"Mrs. Sterling, how are we feeling? Any progress?"

Sarah forced a weak smile.

"Just... just some pressure."

A lie. The pressure was a firestorm.

News reached her, a cruel twist.

Ethan Sterling, her husband, was already at another hospital, a different wing.

He was celebrating.

Chloe Evans, his mistress, had just delivered a son.

Ethan paraded the infant as the true Sterling heir, his joy a public spectacle.

Sarah' s heart clenched.

This was it, the moment she' d maneuvered for, the outcome she' d forced with drugs and terror.

Chloe' s son was first.

Now, she thought, Ethan would have no reason to harm her babies.

She could finally let her own labor proceed.

A small, shaky breath escaped her.

The relief was a fragile thing, shattered in an instant.

Her first life surged back, a tidal wave of agony.

Ethan, his face contorted by a rage she hadn't understood then, Chloe whispering poison in his ear.

Chloe, pregnant with her child, the child Ethan believed was his true legacy.

Sarah remembered the cold room, the deliberate neglect as her first twins died inside her.

The doctors, bought and paid for, turning blind eyes.

Then Chloe died, perhaps in childbirth, and Ethan' s grief turned murderous.

His hands around her throat, squeezing the life from her.

The memory was so vivid, so brutal, it stole her breath.

This new life, these new twins, were her only chance to rewrite that ending.

The drugs she' d taken, the delay she' d forced – it was all to avoid that horror.

She pressed the call button, ready to tell the nurse the suppressants were wearing off, that the babies were coming.

But the door to her private suite burst open.

Not doctors, not nurses.

Ethan' s security team, their faces grim, their movements efficient and cold.

"Mrs. Sterling, Mr. Sterling requires your presence."

Panic seized her. "Presence? I' m in labor!"

One of them, a man with eyes like chips of ice, almost smiled.

"We're aware. Arrangements have been made."

They moved towards her, ignoring her cries, her pleas.

Her body was a vessel of pain, her mind a maelstrom of fear.

They were taking her, mid-labor, from the safety of the hospital.

To Ethan.

To whatever fresh hell he and Chloe had devised.

They didn' t take her to Ethan directly.

Instead, she was dragged, half-carried, into a lavish hotel suite.

Other women were there, pale and terrified.

Women Sarah recognized from gossip columns, women linked to Ethan, women Chloe clearly saw as rivals.

A new, more insidious dread settled in Sarah' s stomach, colder than the fear of childbirth.

Ethan' s security guards, acting with chilling precision, moved among them.

They held out small cups.

"A health tonic," one announced, his voice devoid of emotion. "Compliments of Mr. Sterling."

Sarah knew. Chloe' s hand was in this, disguised as Ethan' s will.

The liquid smelled acrid, chemical.

Some women drank, too scared to refuse. Others hesitated.

Sarah, already weak, already bleeding lightly from the strain of suppressed labor, tried to push the cup away.

A rough hand forced her jaw open, the bitter liquid poured down her throat.

A potent drug. To induce miscarriages.

She choked, gagged, but it was too late.

A searing pain shot through her abdomen, far worse than any contraction.

She doubled over, a scream tearing from her lips.

Blood, bright and terrifying, gushed down her legs, pooling on the expensive carpet.

Her labor, already active, was now a violent, uncontrolled hemorrhage.

Chloe Evans arrived then, a vision of demure concern, Ethan Sterling at her side.

Chloe rushed to Sarah, her voice dripping with false sympathy.

"Oh, Sarah, darling! What happened? You look dreadful!"

Ethan' s eyes, however, were chips of ice, just like his guard' s.

He looked at the scene – Sarah hemorrhaging, the other women moaning, some already collapsing – and his face hardened into a mask of cold fury.

He believed Sarah had orchestrated this, a jealous, desperate act to harm Chloe or her own standing.

A repeat, in his twisted, reborn memory, of the villainy he attributed to her in their first life.

"You did this," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous, pointing a finger at Sarah.

He turned to the other terrified women, his voice booming.

"She tried to harm you! She' s jealous of Chloe, of my son! Deal with her!"

Coerced, terrified, the women, some already in agony themselves, turned on Sarah.

Hands grabbed her hair, fists struck her face, her body.

She was already bleeding, already losing her babies, and now this.

Publicly shamed, publicly assaulted, at her husband' s command.