I Died in the Rain, so I signed a Marriage Contract to Reborn

The ceiling was a blinding, clinical white.

For a fraction of a second, my mind was blank. Then, the memory of the crushing metal.

My hands instantly flew to my stomach.

Flat.

Empty.

"My baby!" I screamed, thrashing against the crisp hospital sheets. "Where is my baby?!"

Nurses rushed in, their faces a blur of panicked pity. They held my shoulders down as I fought them with every ounce of my shattered strength.

I demanded answers, begging and sobbing, but they only offered sympathetic murmurs and a sharp prick of a needle in my IV line.

The sedative dragged me back under, drowning my hysteria in a heavy, unnatural darkness.

When I woke up again, the room was dimly lit. My body felt like lead, but a desperate, frantic need pushed me to move.

I had to find my child. I had to know.

I gritted my teeth against the agonizing pull of my stitches and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.

I ripped the IV from the back of my hand, ignoring the warm trickle of blood.

As I leaned against the wall for support, a soft murmur of voices caught my attention.

It was coming from the adjoining private lounge of my VIP suite. The door was cracked open just an inch, spilling a sliver of golden light into my dark room.

I dragged my battered body toward the crack, my breath catching in my throat.

Through the narrow gap, I saw them.

Dominic was sitting on the edge of a plush leather sofa, his tie loosened, looking as handsome and untouchable as ever.

And sitting sideways on his lap, her arms wrapped possessively around his neck, was Jasmine.

"Are you sure she’s asleep?" Jasmine whispered, her voice sickeningly sweet, tracing the line of his jaw.

"They pumped her full of sedatives," Dominic replied, his hands resting comfortably on her waist. "She won't wake up until morning."

"I was so scared, Dom," Jasmine pouted, burying her face in his neck. "When I saw her car coming... I didn't know if it would work."

"You took a massive risk, Jas," Dominic said, though his tone wasn't angry. It was almost amused.

"I had to!" Jasmine insisted, pulling back to look him in the eyes. "She was eight months along, Dominic! If she had that baby, she would have tied you down forever. The Sterling heir... your grandfather would never have let you divorce her. I couldn't let her trap you with that brat."

The floor beneath me seemed to vanish.

"I saw her hands on her belly," Jasmine continued, a twisted, triumphant smile playing on her lips. "I aimed right for the passenger side. I floored the gas. I wanted to make sure that little problem was taken care of."

I waited for Dominic to explode. I waited for the man who had once kissed my stomach and whispered to our unborn baby to throw her off his lap, to call the police, to do something.

Instead, a low, dark chuckle rumbled in Dominic’s chest.

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind Jasmine's ear. "You're a ruthless little thing, aren't you?"

"I did it for us," she whispered, kissing him. "Is it really gone? The baby?"

"It's gone," Dominic confirmed without a single ounce of remorse. "Stillborn. The doctors took care of the remains. I've already had my lawyers draft the divorce papers. Once she signs them, she’s out of our lives for good."

"Finally," Jasmine sighed, resting her head against his chest.

I slid down the wall, collapsing onto the cold linoleum floor.

My tears had dried up. The hysterical, grieving mother who had woken up screaming was dead.

I wanted to burst through that door and tear them apart with my bare hands. I wanted to watch them bleed.

But I was weak. Broken. If I confronted them now, Dominic would squash me like an insect. I had to be smart.

I crawled back to my bed, every movement a silent vow of vengeance. I pulled the covers over my trembling body and stared at the ceiling, letting the hatred crystallize my heart into ice.

I will kill you both, I promised the empty room. I will burn your entire world to ashes.

Suddenly, the door to the hallway clicked open.

I squeezed my eyes shut, feigning sleep, expecting a nurse to check my vitals.

Instead, a hushed, urgent whisper broke the silence.

"Mrs. Sterling?"

I opened my eyes. A man in a white lab coat stood by my bed. He quickly locked the door behind him and pulled the blinds shut. His name tag read: Dr. Evans - Head of Obstetrics.

"Leave me alone," I rasped, my voice dead. "My baby is gone. There's nothing you can do."

Dr. Evans rushed to my bedside, his eyes darting nervously toward the cracked door of the lounge.

"Mrs. Sterling, you need to listen to me very carefully," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. "Your husband ordered me to dispose of the child. He paid handsomely for a fake death certificate."

I stared at him, my heart stopping in my chest. "What...?"

Dr. Evans leaned in closer, his eyes locked onto mine.

"He's not dead, Sasha. Your son is alive."