He Chose His Sister Over Our Daughter

Serena’s POV

The curtains in the VIP ward were drawn tightly shut. Post-surgery weakness and the lingering aftereffects of a miscarriage still clung to me, yet I insisted on staying in the same room with my son, who had yet to regain consciousness.

These past few days, Adrian had been unusually gentle to me. He was so gentle that he’d even tested the temperature of my food several times before feeding me, his voice low and coaxing.

“Serena, I know you’ve suffered too much,” he murmured. “It’s my fault for not protecting you… and our baby.”

“You can’t have children anymore, and I can’t give you another baby. But if you’d like, we can adopt one. I’ll treat them as if they were my own flesh and blood,” he suggested.

I pulled my hand from his grasp, unable to even look at him without feeling sick.

He froze for a moment, a flicker of confusion flashing in his eyes. But quickly his brows knitted, irritation creeping in.

“I know you’re still mad at Clarissa… but she’s just spoiled. Growing up in the Whitmore, she never suffered a single grievance. She truly wants to apologize this time,” he said. “I’ll wait for you to come around.”

Seeing I remained unmoved, he had no choice but to leave.

He’d been gone for less than ten minutes when the door to the ward was suddenly shoved open from the outside.

A group of young people, grinning and laughing, strolled in. They carried bottles of alcohol and lugged in a portable speaker.

At the front stood Clarissa, her posture bold and her smile triumphant. “Serena, it’s my birthday today, and I thought—why not share my happiness with my dear sister-in-law?”

“This is a hospital ward, Clarissa!” I shot to my feet, ready to throw them out.

But her smile only widened. She leaned in, her tone dripping with mockery. “Oh my, such a big temper. But I guess it’s understandable—you lost both children, and I heard you can’t have any more… So what will you use to compete with me for my brother?”

Her smirk stretched even wider. “The more miserable you are, the happier my birthday feels!”

My face went pale, fury rising in my chest. I couldn’t stop myself—I slapped her hard across the face.

The sharp crack rang through the ward.

Clarissa’s smile froze. For a heartbeat, she stood still—then she lunged at me, her hands wrapping around my throat.

“Bitch! Who do you think you are to hit me? You think you’re still the rightful wife of my brother?” Her face twisted with rage, her eyes wild.

I struggled weakly, my body still frail from the miscarriage. Not even a cry could escape my lips.

The suffocating pressure closed in; darkness crept into my vision until suddenly, she released me and smiled.

He scoffed. “I almost killed you there. But no, no, that won’t do. If you die, then my brother and I will have no one left to take the bullets for us.”

Before I could react, several women at her side rushed forward. They forced me to the floor, covered my mouth, and bound my wrists and ankles with strips of gauze.

I thrashed in panic, but I was no match for them.

“Put her in there,” Clarissa ordered with a wave of her hand.

The next thing I knew, I was shoved into the wardrobe of the VIP room.

I fought to make noise, but not a single sound escaped.

Outside, Adrian finally returned.

“Why are you here alone? Where’s Serena?”

Clarissa leaned against him, her voice soft and sweet. “She wouldn’t let me help buy food. She insisted on going out herself. I tried to stop her.”

She sighed dramatically and commented, “She’s been in a bad mood lately, always taking it out on me. Don’t blame her.”

She pouted, and then she added, “Her emotions have been so unstable lately… But hey, since I’ve been taking such good care of her and her son, shouldn’t you reward me?”

She suddenly leaned closer, her voice soft and flirtatious. “Besides… she’s not here, and there’s only a living corpse in the room. Why don’t we have a little… fun?”

My breath hitched. My ears roared.

A moment later, I heard movement right outside the wardrobe door.

“Clarissa…” Adrian’s voice dropped. “No.”

“But I want you, Adrian…” that lunatic whined coquettishly, rubbing against him.

I bit down hard on my lip, bile rising in my throat. Every word they spoke made the disgust churn hotter in my chest.

“If Mom and Died hadn’t died so early, and if adoption couldn’t be undone, you would’ve married me. That woman would’ve never stood a chance,” Clarissa purred.

“She’s just a shield,” Adrian’s voice rasped. “If we acted too close as siblings, people would start talking.”

“She’s been wanting a divorce anyway. You were terrified back then and begged her to come back. But now it’s fine—she can never have children again. I don’t have to worry about her clinging to me anymore.”

As she spoke, her breathing grew shamelessly lustful.