On the day I was supposed to bring new life into the world, death knocked at my door—disguised as a psychopath.
I was already in labor, my body wracked with contractions when he stormed into my home. Trembling, I hid in the closet, clutching my swollen belly, and called my husband, Daniel Carter. A doctor. My protector—or so I thought. After dialing frantically five times, he finally answered. His voice, cold and impatient, grated through the phone:
"Sophia is hurt, and I'm treating her wound! Can you stop bothering me for no reason?"
I was stunned, my mind racing with the urgency of the danger I was in. My words tumbled out in a panicked plea, “Daniel, there's someone here. He—he’s trying to kill me!”
"If there’s really a psychopath," he sneered, "let them kill you quickly. At least then, you’d stop annoying me!"
The line went dead. So did my hope. I felt the weight of betrayal crushes my chest.
The next few minutes were a blur of blood and agony. The intruder found me, his knife flashing in the dim light. His eyes gleamed with sick delight as he slashed my body over and over. More than 200 stabs later, my face was mangled beyond recognition, my breath shallow, clinging to life for the sake of the baby I carried.
But my strength gave out. By the time I reached the hospital, I was teetering on the edge of death. As fate would have it, my husband was the attending surgeon, the one who could save me. But Daniel… He delayed. Delayed because Sophia Reed, his childhood sweetheart, demanded his attention.
I bled out, my child and I lost to the world as the 210th stab sent me spiraling into oblivion. My soul, unable to endure the searing pain, ripped itself free from my broken body.
Hovering above, I looked down at the lifeless shell I once called home. The man who had butchered me crouched beside my bloodied corpse, lifting my mutilated face with callous amusement. “Dead already?” he scoffed. “What a bore.”
He then shifted his twisted grin to my belly, where my baby still lay. His knife hovered dangerously close, its cold edge grazing my skin. “Now, it’s your turn, little one,” he hissed.
Even though I was unconscious, my hands, instinctively protective, clutched my belly. He snapped my fingers with brutal indifference, wrenching my hands away. Exposing my swollen abdomen, he readied the blade. With just one stab, he could snuff out the fragile life within me.
I screamed, my soul quaking with terror. No! I shrieked, clawing desperately to return to my body, willing to endure the torture all over again just to save my child. But it was futile. I was too far gone. My soul couldn’t return. I was helpless, unable to do anything but watch.
The man cackled, lowering his knife toward my womb. Blood bloomed like a crimson flower beneath the blade. In that moment of complete despair, when all hope had been extinguished, the front door burst open.
A delivery boy I had called earlier—an hour ago, when I first noticed my water breaking—rushed in. With a forceful kick, he sent the psychopath tumbling to the ground.
The man hadn’t expected anyone else to arrive. Panic flashed across his face. Without wasting another second, he scrambled to his feet and bolted.
The delivery boy was my last lifeline, the only help I could turn to after Daniel refused to believe me. The hour before had been a nightmare. I had called Daniel the moment my water broke, pleading with him to come home. But instead of rushing to my side, he accused me of lying. Jealousy, he said. He thought I was pretending, just to get him away from Sophia.
When the intruder broke in, I had no choice but to lock myself in the closet, shaking with fear, as I called Daniel again and again. His response chilled me to the bone, each word cutting deeper than the psychopath’s blade.
"Amelia," he scoffed when he finally picked up, "how many tricks are you going to pull? First, you say your water broke, then someone’s trying to kill you? What’s next? Are you going to tell me you’re dead?"
I couldn’t breathe. The man outside the closet door was banging violently, his voice filled with vile threats. My body was in agony, contractions intensifying, blood trickling down my legs. But all Daniel cared about was Sophia.
"I’m not lying..." I whimpered, but he was already dismissing me to someone nearby.
"Amelia’s just being dramatic. She’s always jealous over nothing. Ignore her," Daniel said. "Don’t worry, I’ll stay by your side until you’re better, Sophia."
Sophia’s sugary voice responded, “But is Amelia okay?”
“What could happen to her? She’s always playing the victim. I’m sick of it!” Daniel snapped before hanging up on me, leaving me frozen in shock.
Ten years of love. Three years of marriage. And this was how he treated me—like I was nothing.
I wanted to believe it wasn’t true. I called again, but before I could, my phone buzzed with a message. It was from Sophia. Attached was a photo of Daniel, kneeling before her, tenderly blowing on her wound. His expression was one of deep affection, the kind of love he once showed me.
Sophia: [Daniel said seeing me hurt broke his heart. He’s not going anywhere. You might as well give up. Oh, and enjoy the little surprise I planned for you!]
That’s when I knew my heart had shattered.
Chapter 2: The Gift of BetrayalIt wasn’t until the man dragged me out of the closet that I finally understood the "gift" Sophia had cruelly hinted at. The real gift wasn’t just her betrayal—it was a hired killer. She had actually paid someone to take my life.
I tried to scream, but the killer’s hand clamped over my mouth with a crushing force, making my jaw feel like it was about to snap. My eyes welled with desperate tears, each drop fueling the man’s sick pleasure. His lips curled into a twisted grin as he raised the knife, slowly dragging it across my skin. Every cut was precise and methodical, exposing layers of muscle and bone, the blood spilling out like a flood.
Through muffled sobs, I could only think of Daniel. He had once been my anchor, my protector. Even the smallest sign of discomfort used to send him into a panic, fussing over me. Where had that man gone? Why had he changed?
The killer reveled in my suffering. As I lay there, broken and bleeding, he snatched up my phone and took a picture of my mutilated body. Without hesitation, he sent it to Daniel. The screen lit up with a notification, and my heart—what was left of it—froze when Daniel’s reply came through.
Daniel: [Amelia, I told you to stop sending me this disgusting nonsense! If you want to die so badly, then just die already!]
I stared at his cold, heartless text. My world turned to ash.
By the time the delivery guy came back and chased the killer away, it was already too late for me. He rushed me to the hospital, to the very place where Daniel worked. The medical team was horrified at the sight of my butchered body. My pulse was faint, barely there, but still fighting. Dr. Harris, one of the senior doctors, glanced at my injuries and barked an order to the nurses.
"The injuries are too severe. I’m not confident I can save her. Find Dr. Carter immediately!"
That name—Daniel—ripped my soul from my body, pulling me into the corridors of the hospital, straight to where he was. The nurses and doctors were frantically searching for him. But he was too busy—too busy doting on Sophia.
"Sophia, don’t worry," Daniel soothed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I’ve used the best medicine. There won’t be any scars, I promise."
Sophia leaned into his embrace, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "Daniel, you’re too kind. I’m so envious of Amelia… she’s so lucky to have married someone like you. I wish I could have someone like you to take care of me."
Daniel didn’t miss a beat. Wrapping his arms around her, he whispered, "Don’t be silly. What we have is special, Sophia. Even though I’m married, that doesn’t change anything. I’ll always be here for you, protecting you."
Sophia looked up, her eyes gleaming with manipulation, "Really? So... if you had to choose, between me and Amelia—"
Daniel cut her off without hesitation, his voice firm, "You, Sophia. Always you."
I stood there, my soul suspended in disbelief. His words sliced through me sharper than any knife. The vows he had once made to me—the promises of love, protection, loyalty—they all crumbled into dust. Everything had shifted the moment Sophia came back into his life. The woman he had once called his sister was now the center of his world, while I had become nothing more than a nuisance.
I screamed in silence, my soul crying out, "Daniel, please! Hurry! I’m dying! At least... save our child!"
Just then, a young intern rushed into the room. It was Ryan Porter, one of Daniel’s juniors. I remembered him—an orphan who had spent holidays alone, eating cold dinners in the hospital ward. I had insisted Daniel invite him over one New Year’s Eve, trying to give him a semblance of family. Now, he was my last hope.
Grabbing Daniel by the arm, Ryan’s voice trembled with urgency. "Daniel! Amelia’s in critical condition—she’s dying! You have to come now!"
But Daniel only pulled his arm away, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "What is this? She couldn’t convince me herself, so now she’s sent you to play along with her little drama? I’m not falling for it, Ryan. She’s jealous, insecure—completely irrational! I’ve told her a thousand times that Sophia is nothing more than a sister to me, but she’s too twisted to believe it."
He turned back to Sophia, muttering, "If she wants to die, let her. I don’t care."
Ryan’s face paled, his voice faltering. "Daniel, this isn’t a joke! She’s dying! Please, just come with me to the OR!"
But Daniel waved him off, his cold indifference like a knife through my heart. This wasn’t the man I married. This wasn’t the Daniel who had once promised to stand by me through everything. He had become someone I didn’t recognize—a man who would rather let me die than pull himself away from Sophia’s embrace.
As I hovered there, invisible and helpless, my soul grew colder with every passing second. There was no hope left. Daniel had already made his choice.
And it wasn’t me.
Chapter 3: The Final BetrayalMeanwhile, Sophia, the mastermind behind it all, continued her sickening charade of innocence. Her voice dripped with concern, though the venom beneath it was palpable only to me. "Daniel, you should really go back! Amelia has gone through so much trouble just to get you to return; she must be upset. You shouldn’t argue because of me! Once my foot heals, I’ll go to her myself and apologize."
Her words were carefully chosen—deliberately crafted to seem selfless, while only deepening the wedge between Daniel and me. And it worked. I could see the frustration building in him.
"Sophia, why do you always have to make yourself suffer? You did nothing wrong!" Daniel's voice grew sharp with irritation, his anger completely misdirected. "Remember last time, when she claimed her stomach hurt? I left you to rush to her side, and what happened? Absolutely nothing! Meanwhile, you couldn’t sleep all night because of the thunderstorm, and I wasn’t there for you!"
His words slammed into me like a brick. He was talking about that rainy night—the night I fell. My mind scrambled to remember the details through the haze of hurt. It was the night I had slipped on the wet pavement, pain ripping through me as I clutched my stomach. Our two-month-old fetus was fragile, and I had lain there, drenched and freezing, waiting for Daniel. The fear of losing our baby was overwhelming. But he never came. Not for hours. If a kind stranger hadn’t found me and driven me to the hospital, our baby wouldn’t have made it.
Yet, to Daniel, my near-miscarriage had been nothing more than a "false alarm," overshadowed by Sophia’s sleepless night.
Sophia’s voice was soft, but her manipulation was razor-sharp. "After all, you and Amelia are married. It’s only right that you leave me for her. I can handle being left behind... it’s really fine."
She made herself out to be the victim, knowing exactly how to play Daniel’s heartstrings. I watched as he took her hand, his gaze full of the affection that used to be mine.
"Don’t say that, Sophia," he whispered, brushing her knuckles gently. "How could I ever leave you for anyone else?"
Anyone else.
Those two words pierced me like a knife, twisting deeper with every heartbeat. In Daniel’s eyes, I had become "someone else." Our ten years together, the life growing inside me—none of it mattered anymore.
Ever since Sophia had returned from abroad, Daniel had started pulling away, treating me like an outsider in our own marriage. At every prenatal checkup, he found some excuse to be with her instead. When she called in the middle of the night, he would leave, no questions asked. And as he appeared more and more in her social media posts, he was home less and less.
It wasn't long before my heartbreak turned to suspicion, and then to certainty. Sophia was proud of her conquest, sending me photos meant to taunt, not just with their content, but with what they implied. There was the kiss mark on her collarbone, the seductive nightgown hanging off her shoulders. And always, just barely in view, a shadowy figure—the unmistakable form of Daniel.
I tried to keep it together, but eventually, I couldn’t. I confronted him, my voice trembling with the weight of my fears. "Daniel, what’s going on between you two?!"
His reaction was swift and cruel. He didn’t even try to deny it, his face contorting with anger as if my pain was an inconvenience. "Amelia, how dare you use your filthy mouth to slander Sophia?! She’s pure and innocent—unlike you! You’re always lying, always scheming! You’re nothing but a crazed, useless shrew!"
The words I wanted to say crumbled into nothingness, lodged in my throat by the weight of his hatred. Tears burned in my eyes, but Daniel didn’t even notice. He didn’t care.
"I regret marrying you more than anything," he spat before slamming the door.
The sound of the door closing behind him echoed like a death knell in the house that had once been our home. I knew where he was going—back to her, using whatever excuse he needed to spend yet another night in Sophia’s arms.
As his figure disappeared down the hallway, I stood there, staring into the emptiness he had left behind. My mind was a storm of questions I couldn’t answer. Where had the Daniel who once loved me gone? Had I changed, or had he? Was it my fault for wanting too much, for believing that our vows had meant something?
Or had I always been just "someone else" to him—nothing more than a placeholder, waiting for Sophia to return and claim what had never truly been mine?
Perhaps, I thought bitterly, he had been wearing a mask all along, and I had been too blind to see the truth. The man I had loved was never real.
Chapter 4: Shattered TruthsThe bitter truth unraveled after the New Year, delivering a pain I could never have imagined. But it wasn’t just me. Ryan, too, was grappling with disbelief, watching Daniel—my husband—casually ignore my life hanging in the balance, instead whispering sweet nothings to her, Sophia. The fury on Ryan’s face was unmistakable as he roared at Daniel, desperate to shake some sense into him.
"Daniel! I’m not lying to you! Your wife is dying! The operating room is five minutes away, and you can’t even spare that for her?" His voice cracked with anger and frustration, but Daniel’s heart had grown too cold to care.
"That’s right! I won’t waste even a second on her lies!" Daniel spat as if my suffering was an inconvenience he couldn't be bothered with.
Ryan stomped his foot, furious, but before he could reply, Sophia seized her chance to fan the flames. She leaned forward, her voice dripping with fake innocence. "Oh my, Dr. Porter, you seem awfully concerned about Amelia. Could it be... you have a special relationship with her?"
Her words were a knife, twisting in the tension, but Daniel's reaction shocked even me. For the first time, he snapped at her.
"Sophia, stop with the baseless accusations! Amelia would never betray me, not even in death."
For a brief moment, the room fell into a stunned silence. His words yanked my thoughts back to the past, to that third year of our relationship. The car accident. I had thrown myself in harm’s way to shield him from the wreckage, nearly losing my own life. I still remembered the tears in his eyes as he scolded me, begging me to never be so reckless again.
"Why did you do it?" he had asked, broken and scared.
"Because I love you. I couldn’t stand to see you hurt."
And now, all that love had been taken for granted. Daniel knew I loved him more than life itself, and he had been testing my limits ever since. But today, he had gone too far.
The tension thickened as Daniel finally relented, standing up with a sneer. "Fine, I’ll call her! I’ll expose her lies for what they are. Ryan, you’ll see soon enough. She’ll be begging for forgiveness."
He dialed my number with confidence, fully expecting me to answer, but all he got was silence. Call after call, only the hollow sound of beeps echoed back at him.
Why would I answer? A minute ago, my soul had slipped from my body. He had wanted me gone. Now, I was dead. Satisfied, Daniel?
Yet something nagged at Daniel, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. I had never ignored his calls before, no matter how angry or hurt I was. But he brushed aside the unease, chalking it up to one of my "tantrums." Frustrated, he sent me a voice message, his tone filled with irritation.
"Amelia! How old are you? You think disappearing like this is fun? I don’t have time for your games! Show up soon if you have any sense."
As the message ended, the prayer beads on his wrist—a set I had lovingly blessed for his safety—snapped apart, scattering across the floor. Daniel glanced down, surprised, and for the first time, a shiver of dread crept up his spine. Those beads had been a token of my love, each one a silent prayer for his well-being.
His unease deepened when he recalled Ryan’s grim expression before leaving, the weight of his words lingering in the air. Hastily comforting Sophia, Daniel bent down to collect the scattered beads and then rushed toward the operating room.
On his way, he overheard the nurses talking in hushed tones, their voices heavy with shock.
"Who could be so cruel? The woman’s face... slashed beyond recognition. Two hundred ten knife wounds—"
"And she was pregnant. How awful."
The word "pregnant" hit Daniel like a truck. His heart raced, panic setting in. Without thinking, he dialed my number again, his hands trembling, his breath quickening. For the first time, he was afraid.
Outside the operating room, the blood-soaked doctors filed out one by one, their faces grim. One of them, Dr. Harris, shook his head, a look of helplessness in his eyes. "We did everything we could. If Dr. Carter had arrived sooner, maybe... just maybe..."
The world around Daniel seemed to blur as he looked down the hallway. My lifeless body was being wheeled out of the operating room, draped under a white sheet. He hesitated, catching sight of the small bulge in my abdomen. My child—our child—never even had a chance to enter the world.
Daniel’s hands trembled as he reached for the sheet. When he pulled it back, he was met with a gruesome sight. My face had been butchered, my features obliterated by deep, jagged slashes. My ears were missing, my eye sockets hollow, and my skin had been peeled away in places, exposing raw muscle and bone.
He staggered back in horror. His mind raced as he recalled the photos sent to him from my phone by the killer. He had dismissed them as a sick joke, a cry for attention. But now, face-to-face with the truth, he couldn’t process it.
"No... This isn’t her. This can’t be Amelia," he whispered, clutching his phone like a lifeline. Desperately, he dialed my number again. "She’s still alive! This isn’t her!"
The phone rang, and this time, it connected. His heart leaped, a glimmer of hope sparking in his chest. "Amelia! Answer me! Tell me you’re okay!"
But the voice on the other end wasn’t mine. It was a nurse, holding up a phone that had been taken from my body. "Dr. Carter," she said softly, "this was found with the deceased."
"No!" Daniel screamed, shaking his head in denial. "You’re all lying!"
But even as he shouted, something caught his eye. My arm slipped out from under the white sheet, revealing the bracelet on my wrist—his bracelet. The custom-made prayer beads I had crafted just for him. The same beads that had broken moments ago.
Reality crashed down on him like a tidal wave. The evidence piled up, piece by piece, shattering the carefully constructed lies he had told himself. The color drained from his face as he staggered back, eyes wide, his body barely able to hold the weight of his guilt.