Her Unborn Baby's Voice

I curled up on the floor, a searing pain in my abdomen stealing the air from my lungs.

Brandon bound my hands behind my back with a nylon rope, his movements rough and practiced.

"So this is how the Confidential Bureau operates?" I gritted my teeth, cold sweat sliding down my temples. "No evidence, yet you accuse me of selling classified technology? No authorization, yet you restrict my freedom?"

Brandon let out a cold laugh, pressing the barrel of his gun against the back of my head.

"If you've got nothing to hide, why were you running? Don't even think about escaping, unless you want to die."

Just then, my son's voice rang out again, bright and cheerful, "Brandon is amazing! He caught Bad Daddy in one move!"

Mary approached with a frosty expression, gently stroking her swollen belly.

"Baby, where did Jerry move the data to?"

"Bad Daddy is too cunning. I don't know either. Mommy, you will have to interrogate him."

Mary lifted her head and exchanged a glance with Brandon. There was something in that look—something that sent a chill crawling down my spine.

"Take him to the interrogation room," she ordered curtly.

Brandon yanked me off the floor and shoved me down the corridor.

The interrogation room was cold and oppressive.

He forced me into a specialized chair. My arms were pinned to the armrests, and the automatic restraints snapped tight around my wrists and ankles.

I looked at the woman who had once been the closest person in my life, my voice carrying a final trace of hope.

"Mary… after three years of marriage, is that still not enough for you to know what kind of person I am?"

She stood with her back to me, facing the one-way mirror, her posture rigid.

"It's because I knew you too well before," she said, her voice distant, "that I find you even more disgusting now."

Suddenly, Brandon applied force. A sharp, tearing pain shot through my arm, as if it might snap at any second.

"Where is the data?!" His voice trembled with excitement. "Confess now, before it's too late!"

The agony brought a metallic taste to my throat. I clenched my teeth.

"I've never seen any data… Search all you want…"

Mary finally turned, her gaze slicing over me like ice.

"My baby is never wrong."

She bent down, gripping my chin. "Tell the truth, and spare yourself the pain."

At a single look from her, Brandon tightened the restraints. I was completely immobilized.

"Why are you being so stubborn?" Brandon toyed with a metal instrument in his hand. "For Mary's sake, I really don't want to use torture on you."

I struggled with all my strength, but it only made the restraints dig deeper into my flesh.

"This is coercion under torture!" I said, my voice shaking. "Have you forgotten all the Bureau's rules?"

I stared at Mary, hoping desperately that she would step in and stop this. But she only glanced at me indifferently before looking away.

In that moment, my heart sank into an abyss.

As Brandon adjusted his collar, a platinum tie clip caught the light—its gleam painfully familiar. It was the gift Mary had custom-made for our wedding anniversary, engraved with our initials. And now, it was pinned to another man's tie.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

"Why not just kill me and be done with it? At least then, I won't be in your way."

Brandon instinctively lifted a hand to cover the tie clip.

Mary strode forward and slapped me hard across the face.

"Watch your mouth!" Her voice was cold as ice. "Brandon and I are strictly professional!"

She, too, noticed the tie clip, her tone faltering slightly.

"It's just a tie clip. What does it prove? Rewarding a subordinate—is there anything wrong with that? You never used it anyway. It was just wasting space at home."

Something lodged in my chest, and a sharp ache rose to my throat.

I had always kept that tie clip carefully stored in my study. She must have taken it without telling me—only to give it to someone else.

When I'd asked about it back then, she brushed it off, saying she'd have a better one made.

Only now did I finally understand. In my previous life, her ruthlessness hadn't been driven solely by that eerie voice. It was because her heart had long since left me.

And once I understood that, a strange calm settled over me.

"Do whatever you want."

At that moment, Mary suddenly clutched her abdomen, and that familiar voice sounded again, "Bad Daddy… why are you making Mommy do something wrong?"

I froze.

It hit me all at once—the child in this life seemed completely different from before.

In my memory, just before my death in the previous life, that same child had been urging Mary—without hesitation—to pull the trigger.