My Sister Stole My Husband And My Life

Emmeline’s lunch was brought to her room by Brittany Arnold, but she didn’t touch a bite. Once she was sure everyone downstairs had left, she packed a canvas bag and slipped out the door.

Her stomach ached fiercely from the attack she had endured the day before, and the bleeding was worrying enough to fill her with fear of internal damage. Reluctantly, she decided a hospital visit was necessary.

When she asked the driver, though, she learned the backup car was still broken down, and the Rolls-Royce Cullinan Henrik often drove was gone—Henrik had taken it, along with Quinn Larson. Since she couldn’t drive, she had only two options: call a cab to the hospital or walk.

The nearest hospital was three kilometers away. After being kidnapped by a cab driver the day before, she couldn’t stomach the thought of getting into another cab, so she decided to walk.

She was usually in good shape—she’d even joined a hiking club in college—but the menstrual cramps made everything worse, leaving her more drained than she’d been after the assault. After walking a little over a kilometer, her energy was completely gone. Spotting a bus stop nearby, she decided to take the bus.

But before she reached it, everything went black, and she fainted.

When she came to, she was lying on an operating table in the hospital. The memories of the attack flooded back, and panic seized her. She feared she was about to become a victim of organ harvesting.

“Who are you? Why am I here?” she cried, struggling against the restraints.

“Miss Larson, I’m sorry. You fainted on the street and were brought in by a good Samaritan,” a doctor said as he approached. Seeing the fear in her eyes, his expression softened with sympathy.

“Upon examination, it appears you’ve had a miscarriage due to external trauma. The miscarriage isn’t complete, and without a D&C procedure, there could be severe complications—infection or heavy bleeding—which might affect future fertility...”

The doctor’s words came at her muffled and far away, leaving her in shocked disbelief. She was pregnant? No wonder her period had been more than ten days late.

She remembered the attacker’s brutal kicks to her stomach, and a pain seized her heart as if her very soul was bleeding. She had waited three years for this child. Ever since she’d married into the Dean family, the elders had pressed her and Henrik to have a baby soon. She hadn’t objected. She’d wanted it too—a child who shared both her blood and Henrik’s.

They’d tried many times, but her health had always made it difficult. Now, finally, they had succeeded...

Why? Why did she have to lose the baby now?

“I don’t want to lose my baby!” she cried, her eyes red as she shook the table furiously. The nurses exchanged uneasy looks and turned to the doctor.

With no other choice, the doctor pulled her phone from the canvas bag and handed it to her. “Miss Larson, you’re very emotional right now. If you’re having trouble deciding, please ask a family member to come and discuss it with us. The baby is already gone. Without the procedure, the risks are serious...”

Emmeline grabbed the phone, dialing Henrik’s number with trembling hands. Yes, she needed to call Henrik. He had wanted this child as much as she did. He wouldn’t let them take it from her.

The first call did not connect. She tried again, only to hear the same endless, despairing busy tone. On the third try, it connected—but the voice on the other end was Quinn’s, a soft, intimate moan: “Henrik... be gentle...”

Something inside her snapped. The last thin thread of her sanity tore.

She hurled the phone to the floor and lay back on the table, hollow with resignation. “Just do it.”

As the anesthetic took hold, Emmeline drifted away.

In the dream, a tiny baby girl lay cradled in her arms, its sparkling eyes gazing up at her with innocent wonder. Astonished, she reached out and touched the baby’s soft cheek. The baby smiled—so sweet, so gentle.

That smile was heartbreakingly sweet.

Tears filled her eyes, and she held the baby close. Then, without warning, the baby went limp and thin. She looked down in horror. The tiny body was melting in her arms like candle wax.

The scene shifted. Quinn and Henrik appeared before her, naked. Quinn kissed Henrik, her belly swelling like a balloon. Then she slid a knowing glance toward Emmeline. “Give it back,” she said. “Give everything you have back to me.”

Emmeline woke with a start in a hospital ward. The faint smell of disinfectant hung in the room. Two young women lay in the beds beside her. One was awake, tearfully pleading with her boyfriend on the phone.

“I had the abortion. Please don’t break up with me,” she begged.

The man’s voice on the other end was ice. “Are you really that stupid, or are you pretending? If I truly cared about you, I wouldn’t have made you abort the baby. Let’s break up. Stop bothering me.”

Emmeline’s fingers tightened around the bedsheet. The words hit her like a revelation. How could anyone who truly cared let her lose this child?

She had called him for help yesterday—why hadn’t he come? Before this, she had not been this heartbroken.

She had wanted to write off yesterday as if it had never happened. The attacker hadn’t really hurt her, after all. But now resentment swallowed her whole.

He had taken her most precious child. Grief pressed down on her chest like a thousand-pound stone.

Staring up at the glaring ceiling, tears streamed down her face, unstoppable.

Nearby, a nurse was starting an IV for the other woman. When she noticed Emmeline was awake, she spoke as if this were just routine.

“Miss Larson, your D&C is done. If you’re feeling all right, you can pay your bill and go. We have limited beds, and you don’t need to stay overnight for this.”

Wiping her tears, Emmeline got out of bed in a daze, ready to settle her bill. Then she overheard the nurse mutter, “Young women these days have no self-respect. If they knew they would regret it, they shouldn’t have fooled around in the first place.”

She took a deep breath, raised the IV stand beside her, and hurled it at the nurse.

---

Arielle Arnold drove with her jaw tight, frustration bottled behind her face. Emmeline sat beside her, expression blank.

It was the fourth exasperated sigh Arielle had let out during the drive.

After Emmeline’s outburst at the nurse, things hadn’t blown up into a major incident—but the nurse had demanded compensation and threatened to call the police.

In the end, Arielle had gone to the station, apologizing and paying for the damages to get Emmeline released.