My Husband Killed Our Daughter, All for His Mistress

Emily's POV

Sabrina walked toward me, smug and slow, holding the vial of antivenom between two perfectly manicured fingers.

Just as I reached out to take it, she let go.

The glass hit the floor and shattered instantly.

I stood frozen, staring in disbelief. But Sabrina leaned in, lowering her voice to a venomous whisper right beside my ear.

"Stupid woman. Why would I save your daughter? She should've died a long time ago. If she hadn't, how else would my baby be the only heir to Davidson Group?"

Whatever hope I had left was gone and snuffed out in a breath.

Something inside me snapped.

I lunged at her, knocking her onto the bed. My hands wrapped around her throat with a force I didn't know I had.

"You killed my daughter!" I screamed. "You're going to pay for it!"

She clawed at me, her eyes going wide, starting to roll back.

I used every ounce of strength, ignoring Gideon's furious shouts behind me, watching Sabrina's eyes roll back as she gasped for air.

She struggled and pleaded for help, but my mind was filled only with the image of my daughter in despair—Rosie's helpless, fading face.

All I could feel was rage, and my grip only tightened.

Then, a blast of electricity tore through me.

My body seized violently, collapsing to the ground as fresh pain erupted across my already gashed skin. The glass wounds from earlier open wider, now leaking yellow pus with the shock's flow.

I twitched on the cold floor, vision swimming.

When I looked up, Gideon was standing over me, anger in his eyes and holding an electric baton.

"Emily," he snapped, "you've lost your damn mind. You really tried to hurt Sabrina? Right in front of me? If anything happens to that baby, I swear to God I won't let you live!"

I laughed so hard my chest shook, until it felt cracked and hollow.

Through my tears, I pointed at him and choked out, "I am insane! You drove me insane! Gideon, you let our daughter die for the baby she's carrying!"

His face twisted, frowning like I'd insulted his intelligence.

"What the hell are you talking about? I'd never hurt my daughter. I told you that those snakes were fake!"

Just then, my phone rang.

I scrambled to answer it. The screen flashed with the hospital's number. I picked up immediately.

"Ma'am," the voice on the other end said, urgent and grim, "Your daughter is in full organ failure. She only has one breath left. You need to come quickly…"

The rest faded into static.

It felt like someone had carved a hole in my chest. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even think.

I turned and bolted for the door.

Then I heard Sabrina scream. "Help!"

She turned to Gideon and yelled, "Gideon, she's coming at me with a knife!"

Before I could react, Gideon shouted, "Stop her!"

In seconds, several of his security men charged in and slammed me to the floor.

I kicked, thrashed, clawed like a wild animal, screaming from the depths of my soul, "Let me go! Let me go! I need to see my daughter. Rosie's waiting for me! She's waiting!"

Tears poured uncontrollably down my face, but all I saw was Gideon's look of pure disgust.

He walked to the tray, grabbed a syringe, and stepped toward me.

"No, please don't!" I begged, shaking my head in horror.

But the needle plunged into my arm before I could stop it. The chill of the sedative spread instantly, making the world around me blur at the edges.

As my body went limp, I heard Gideon's voice.

"She's completely lost it. Send her to the psych ward."

...

I had a dream. A long one. One that felt too soft to be real.

In the dream, I had just found out I was pregnant.

Gideon's face lit up with the pure joy of becoming a father. He pulled me into his arms, practically glowing.

"Emily, this is amazing," he said. "We're finally having a baby! Don't worry. From now on, I'll protect both of you. I won't let anything harm you ever."

Ten months later, I gave birth to our daughter.

Back then, Gideon's world revolved around us. He came home early from work every night just to cook for us. He canceled every meeting and dinner, just to be there to rock Rosie to sleep.

One time, if I had a tiny hangnail or if Rosie cried once in the middle of the night, he'd be distressed for hours.