Ava's Pov I woke up to an empty bed. The sheets beside me were cold, a clear sign that Richard had been gone for a while. I rolled over, my mind still foggy from sleep, and tried to shake off the unease that settled in my chest. I remembered how exhausted I felt last night, how I had fallen asleep almost instantly after... Well, after everything. Richard had seemed concerned, but I had brushed it off as nothing. But now, as I lay there alone, something felt wrong. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, hoping for some kind of distraction. Just as I picked it up, it buzzed in my hand. A notification. I frowned, wondering who would be messaging me so early. When I unlocked the screen, my heart stopped. It was a video message from an unknown number. My hands trembled as I tapped the screen, my breath caught in my throat. The video began to play, and my world tilted. "Ma-Mama... Papa, please... I'm scared." Tommy’s tiny voice trembled through the speaker, and I felt
Ava's Pov The door creaked as we stepped into the dark room, the air heavy with a damp, metallic scent. My heart pounded in my chest, but I kept my face neutral. Richard had asked me not to cause any trouble, and I intended to keep that promise, even though every fiber of my being screamed at me to run. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing across the walls, making the space feel even more oppressive. I could barely make out the figure in the center of the room. My breath hitched when I saw him. Matthew. My ex-husband from my past life, tied to a chair, his head slumped forward. Blood dripped from various wounds on his body, pooling on the cold, concrete floor beneath him. The sight made my stomach churn, but I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. How could this man—this monster—still have such a hold on my life? Was he so hell-bent on ruining everything for me, both in the past and now? I had thought I was done with him after I ensured he was sent to the correctional cente
Richard's Pov As I sat in the waiting room, time seemed to stretch into an eternity. The minutes dragged on like hours, and the silence in the hospital was deafening. The bright, sterile lights overhead did nothing to calm my nerves, and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall only served to heighten my anxiety. I had been here for three hours, and the night had fully descended, casting a heavy darkness outside the windows. The only thing I could focus on was the fact that Ava was still unconscious, and I had no idea what was wrong. I replayed the events of the evening in my head over and over again. The way Ava had suddenly gone limp in my arms, her eyes fluttering shut, and how she hadn't responded to my frantic attempts to wake her. The memory of it made my heart pound in my chest, fear gripping me like a vice. I couldn't shake the image of her pale face, her body so still and lifeless. What if something was seriously wrong? What if she never woke up? The thought was
Richard's Pov I had just finished filling the tub with warm water when Ava stepped in, letting out a sigh of relief as the warmth enveloped her swollen body. Mornings like this had become our little ritual, a time for her to relax and ease some of the discomfort that came with carrying three babies. I could tell she appreciated it, even if she didn’t say so outright. I grabbed the washcloth and gently started to soap her back, moving slowly, knowing how sensitive she’d become in these final weeks. Ava leaned forward, resting her head on her arms, eyes closed, a faint smile playing on her lips. “This feels amazing,” she murmured, her voice a soft whisper. “I could stay here all day.” “Maybe you should,” I teased lightly. “I can bring you breakfast, lunch, and dinner right here in the tub.” She chuckled, a sound that always managed to brighten my day, no matter how stressed or tired I was. “Tempting, but I think I’d turn into a prune if I stayed in here that long.” I laughed, a
Ava's Pov The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bustling household. The once-quiet home had transformed into a lively battleground, where the daily routines of life were anything but mundane. The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallways as Ava scrambled to get her children ready for the day."Tommy, come here, sweetie," Ava called out as she fastened the straps on his backpack. Tommy, now eight years old and full of energy, ran over to her with an excited grin on his face."Are you ready for school, my big boy?" Ava asked, ruffling his hair."Yes, Mommy! I can't wait to show my friends the new toy Daddy got me," Tommy replied, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.Ava smiled, her heart swelling with pride as she knelt to help him adjust his backpack. "That’s my boy. Remember to listen to your teacher and be nice to your friends, okay?"Tommy nodded eagerly. "I will, Mommy!"As she finished with Tommy, Ava’s attention was suddenly drawn
I awoke with a startle, my heart pounding in my chest. As my eyes adjusted to the soft, golden light filtering through the curtains, I realized I was in an opulent room filled with luxurious items—plush velvet furniture, rich mahogany woodwork, and delicate crystal chandeliers that glittered in the morning sun. This wasn’t my room. I wasn’t supposed to be here. “This is not my room. I’m supposed to be dead,” I thought, my mind racing with confusion and fear. I vividly remembered the horrifying moment when my stepsister and husband had pushed me off a cliff. The sensation of falling, the wind rushing past me, the sheer terror—it all came flooding back. So how had I survived, and more importantly, how had I ended up in this place? My legs trembled as I swung them over the side of the bed and stood up. Each step towards the door felt like a monumental effort, my body weak and unsteady. As I moved, I caught sight of myself in a large, ornate mirror. “This isn’t me,” I whispered, star
I looked up at the woman and asked, "Who is my husband?" She seemed taken aback by my question, her expression flickering with a mixture of surprise and caution. "Your husband... you don't remember him?" I shook my head slowly, feeling a knot form in my stomach. "No, I don't. Please, can you tell me who he is?" The woman glanced at Tommy, who was still clinging to me, his tears starting to subside. "Your husband is Mr. Richard Walker," she said quietly. "He's been away on a business trip for the past few weeks. He's expected back tomorrow." Richard Walker. The name sounded unfamiliar, like a distant echo that I couldn't quite place. I looked down at Tommy, who was now looking up at me with curiosity and a hint of fear. "Tommy, do you like your dad?" I asked gently. Tommy nodded hesitantly. "He's nice to me. He buys me toys and takes me to the park." I forced a smile, trying to reconcile this information with the blank slate of my memory. "That's good," I said, though I couldn't s
After Richard had left, I sat down, my mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The silence of the room felt deafening, amplifying the turmoil within me. Why would a woman harbor so much hatred for her husband I thought about my own past life, how I had always longed for the attention and affection of my husband, Anthony. The memories flooded back, bittersweet and poignant. Anthony and I had married under circumstances that were far from ideal. Our union was arranged by our families, and while I had hoped for love to blossom, it had never quite happened. I was not from a wealthy family, but I was left with a substantial inheritance. My husband had married me with the intention of gaining control of this inheritance. This bitter truth had come to light before the horrifying incident when my stepsister and Anthony had pushed me off the cliff. My life had been marked by struggle and rejection. I had always carried a scar on my face, a disfigurement that had marred my sel