He Stole My Babies' Hearts , So I Burned His World Down

It wasn't until my third pregnancy that I learned the truth about my husband, Bertram Delgado, and the kind of man he really was.

My mother-in-law handed me a bank card and told me to have the baby, then disappear. If I refused, she'd dig up my mother's grave.

I laughed in her face, snapped the card in half right in front of her, and told her she didn't know the first thing about love.

That night, I was kidnapped. I called Bertram ninety-nine times. He didn't pick up once.

A baseball bat slammed into my lower abdomen. Blood soaked through the hem of my dress.

By the time everything was beyond saving, Bertram finally showed up.

His eyes were red as he personally dealt with every last one of the men who'd hurt me. Then he pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair again and again. "Prue, we'll have another baby. I swear I'll find whoever did this and make them pay."

I thought that was the worst thing I'd ever endure. I had no idea it was only the beginning of hell.

Not long after, my mother-in-law personally led a crew to desecrate my mother's grave. My father collapsed from a heart attack on the spot.

I stumbled my way to the surgical ward, and just as I reached the doors, I caught sight of Bertram and his mother around the corner.

"She disrespected you, Mother. I simply gave her a small punishment."

"And now what? Alexis is your sister. All we had to do was wait for this third baby to be born and she'd finally be cured for good. The first two were useless; their hearts were too weak. If we keep dragging this out, Alexis's body won't hold."

"Don't worry, Mom. If there's no baby, we'll just take her heart instead. She owes Alexis that much."

So the killer he'd sworn to hunt down was himself all along.

He'd stolen my children under the guise of miscarriages and given their hearts to another woman.

I collapsed onto the freezing floor, both hands clamped over my mouth.

All this time, I hadn't thrown myself into love. I'd thrown myself into a game where I was the sacrifice.

Everything I was, everything I had, was nothing more than cold medicine to keep Alexis Pruitt alive.

I wiped my tears. With trembling hands, I dialed a number.

One week. In one week, this game would have a new player writing the rules.

...

"I'll marry you."

My voice shook as I said it, and no amount of willpower could push down the bitterness rising in my chest.

Silence on the other end. Then a quiet laugh. "Well. I never thought the devoted Mrs. Delgado would say those words to another man."

"There's one week left in the divorce cooling-off period. Don't worry. I don't love him anymore."

I hung up and stared at the two torn halves of my marriage certificate in my hands. My heart felt like it was being carved apart piece by piece. The shredded red booklet slipped from my fingers and fluttered to the floor.

Three weeks ago, I'd finally conceived Bertram's third child.

Zara Delgado came to me directly and told me to leave.

"Bertram's status is special. You're not worthy of him. There's enough money on this card to keep you comfortable for the rest of your life. Have the baby and get out. You've already killed two of them. Don't kill a third."

I looked at the bank card she'd tossed at me, and the memory of my first two babies, born without ever drawing a single breath, cut through me like a blade.

Ten years ago, Bertram Delgado, a man notorious for his indifference to women, fell for me at first sight.

To win me over, he quietly studied my habits and preferences. When I came down with a fever, he sat at my bedside for three days and three nights without leaving.

To thank him, I agreed to go with him to a college reunion. On the way there, the brakes failed.

He pulled me into his arms on instinct. The impact shattered several of his ribs.

In that moment, the wall I'd built around my heart, the one I thought nothing could ever break, came crashing down.

After that, we fell together naturally.

Once we were married, he spoiled me until I became the "princess" everyone in our circle talked about. He taught himself the difference between foundation shades just so he could pick the perfect one for me. When I hit a wall with my studies, he whisked me away on trips to clear my head. When I felt lost in my career, he was there with encouragement and unwavering support.

Because of all that, I never once doubted what we had.

Remembering this, I looked Zara dead in the eye, laughed coldly, and snapped that card in half with my bare hands.

"You've got it wrong. I never loved cold numbers on a screen. And Bertram would never let me walk away from our child."

Her face twisted with the sour humiliation of being shut down. She sat in silence for a moment, then snatched up her purse.

As she passed me, her voice dropped to something frigid.

"You won't hold that seat as Mrs. Delgado for long."

That night, I was taken by strangers. They placed bets with cash, wagering on how many swings of a bat it would take to kill a three-month-old baby still inside its mother.

I called Bertram ninety-nine times. Not once did he answer. On the hundredth call, it finally connected, and I told him our baby was gone.

Silence on his end. Then: "I'm sorry, Prue. I swear I'll find whoever did this and make them pay. Just hold on."

He told me not to hang up. He was on his way.

But the very next second, a woman's tearful whimper came through the phone. It was Bertram's foster sister, Alexis Pruitt.

"Bertram, my ankle hurts so bad... ah..."

"Alexis!"

That single cry of alarm did something I'd never witnessed in ten years of marriage. It shattered the composure of a man who never lost his cool, and it stopped my heart dead.

In a decade together, I had never once heard Bertram Delgado sound panicked.

Through the phone, I listened to him bark hoarse orders at over a dozen private physicians to treat Alexis. Every frantic shout, every note of tender anxiety that crept into his voice when he spoke to her, poured into my ears, and the agony in my chest pulled at my abdomen until it felt like I was being ripped apart.

It hit me then. He wasn't a man who stayed calm under pressure. He simply hadn't met the person worth losing his calm for.

By the time night had fully fallen and blood pooled around my lower body, Bertram finally arrived with his people in tow.

"Sorry, Prue. Traffic was bad."

He scooped me up into his arms. That familiar face was as cold and unreadable as ever.

Looking at him, I couldn't reconcile this man with the one who'd been choking on panic just hours before.

My throat sealed shut. I couldn't make a single sound. My heart felt like it was being flayed alive, one slow strip at a time.