He Strapped Bombs to Our Babies—for Her

After an hour of sitting in silence, I finally forced myself to treat my split lip and wash away the last of the blood on my face. My body ached from the beating, but the part that hurt the most couldn’t be touched—my heart. It was done breaking. Now it just rotted.

The room was quiet. Until it wasn’t.

The door slammed open. Niccolo’s men stormed in. Their faces was unreadable, voices silent. I barely had time to stand before one of them gripped my arm. Another grabbed my wrist like I was a criminal. I tried to ask what was happening, but no one responded.

I was dragged out like garbage. No shoes. No dignity. Just a ruined woman being hauled through her own house.

They shoved me into a black SUV and locked the doors. No words. No explanations. I was taken straight to a private hospital building bearing the Salvacion name.

The moment we reached the top floor, I was thrown into a private suite. And what I saw made my stomach turn.

Margot’s parents were lying in hospital beds—bandaged from head to toe. Her mother’s face was completely wrapped, with only her eyes showing, one of them red and swollen. Her arms were wrapped in gauze. Her voice came out hoarse through a throat tube.

“She… she tried to kill us,” she rasped. “We were inside the car when it went up in flames…”

Her husband stood nearby with a cast on his wrist, eyes wet like he’d survived a war. “I pulled her out with my own hands,” he said, looking right at Niccolo, who had just entered behind me. “She would’ve died if I wasn’t there.”

Three unfamiliar men knelt on the floor. Crying.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am Geneva!” one blubbered. “We only did what you paid us to!”

“You said burn the car, make it look like an accident!” another one wailed.

I couldn’t speak. My lungs locked. My mind tried to make sense of how far they were taking this.

And then I saw her.

Margot. In the corner, hunched like some fragile child, her eyes puffy and red, makeup running just enough to look pitiful. She was clutching her elbows, pretending to tremble.

“Why… why, Geneva?” she whispered, like her soul was crushed. “Just because I love him… you went after my family? What did I ever do to deserve this?”

I didn’t answer. There was no use.

Niccolo stepped forward, jaw tight, eyes dark. He didn’t ask if I was guilty. He didn’t ask anything at all.

“You’re a fucking monster,” he said low. “I gave you everything and you turn into this?”

I opened my mouth, but before a word escaped, Grandma Salvacion stepped in and slapped me across the face. My head snapped sideways.

“You think we’ll let you keep humiliating this family?” she snapped. “You disgust me. If you want to stay under our name, then kneel!”

I looked at Niccolo. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. I didn’t kneel. So she forced me. Her bony hands gripped my shoulders and shoved me down hard.

I knelt on that cold tile floor. Staring up at the man I once called my husband. He didn’t flinch. Not once.

Then Margot’s mother suddenly gasped, clutching her chest like she couldn’t breathe. Her head rolled to the side. She whispered something I couldn’t catch, then her eyes fluttered shut.

Margot screamed. “Doctor! Hurry! She’s crashing!”

The doors burst open. A man in a white coat ran in, stethoscope swinging, voice loud and urgent. I’d never seen him before.

“Blood pressure dropping fast. She’s hemorrhaging. We need an immediate transfusion,” he said. “Her blood type is AB negative. Extremely rare. Check the database.”

A silence filled the room, sharp and suffocating.

“That’s a hard match to find,” the doctor added. “Only a few compatible donors are listed.”

Margot placed a hand over her belly. “I have AB negative,” she said softly. “But I can’t donate.”

Everyone turned to her.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, eyes wide, voice shaking just enough to sound fragile. “With Niccolo’s baby.”

My stomach turned. I felt sick.

Grandma gasped, covering her mouth, already tearing up. “A child... an heir,” she whispered.

Grandpa didn’t say anything, just nodded once, tight and approving. Niccolo looked at Margot like she was something sacred.

No one looked at me. Then all eyes finally turned.

“She’s compatible,” the doctor said. “Geneva Villacruz Salvacion. She’s a viable donor.”

Niccolo snapped. His boots thundered toward me. He grabbed my arm roughly, yanking me to my feet. “You heard the doctor.”

I pulled back. “She’s lying,” I said, voice shaking. “She faked all of this. She’s not even pregnant—”

“I said take her blood,” he barked at the doctor. “As much as it takes.”

I struggled as his men grabbed me. “Don’t touch me!” I screamed. “She’s lying, she planned this!”

“Shut her up!” Grandma snapped. “Get it done. Now.”

They strapped me into the chair. My wrists burned under the leather cuffs. Tubes jammed into my veins, metal cold against skin. The blood flowed. Too fast. Too much. I could feel it draining me.

The doctor looked uneasy. “She’s turning pale. We should slow down—”

Niccolo gave him a cold glance. “I said continue.”

My head started spinning. Margot stood at the side, fake tears streaking her face, rubbing her stomach like she was cradling something precious. Her eyes glinted when no one was looking.

“She’s losing color,” a nurse said.

My arms were cold. My fingertips tingled.

“She’s about to crash,” another voice called out.

I blinked slowly, breath shallow. My eyes fluttered shut.

Then the machines beeped.

“She’s going into shock!”

“Get her to the emergency wing—now!”

I couldn’t feel my body anymore. Only the thought in my head, circling over and over. They’re going to kill me before I ever get out.