My Vengeance Against the Cursed Husband

4: 4

I couldn't stop shaking.

But I did what Camille told me. That night, once the whole house was asleep, I crept over to the memorial tablet and started searching.

In under a minute, I found it — my own birth chart, tucked underneath.

The shock hit me like a physical blow.

I thought back to the matchmaking event six months ago, how Darren Harding had been polite but distant with everyone.

Until he heard my birth date. Then his eyes lit up.

After that he chased me relentlessly, fussing over me, giving me everything I wanted.

Under all that romance and devotion, I married him almost before I knew it.

I used to wonder, dazed with luck, how I'd ever stumbled onto such a wonderful family.

So it had all been planned from the start.

But there was no time to grieve. I messaged Camille at once:

"What do I do? If I run right now, is it too late?"

She answered almost instantly. "No."

"The fetal-feeding curse is already bound to the blood of your child. Leave now and you're dead for certain."

"If you want to live, you have to break the ritual. If you trust me, I can help you."

Like a drowning woman grabbing the last straw, I nodded, my head a mess.

What choice did I have but to believe her?

Following Camille's instructions, I swapped my birth chart for Deidre Gilbert's,

then went back to bed as if nothing had happened.

The next day my mother-in-law brought me another bowl of goose-egg custard. "Priscilla, eat it while it's hot."

When my fingers touched the bottom of the bowl, I ran them over it without thinking, and sure enough, I felt a raised ridge.

I forced myself to stay calm, and while she turned to ladle out soup, I quietly lifted the bowl.

One glance, and my heart clenched hard.

Carved into the bottom of the bowl was the exact same pattern as the one on my belly.

This was the fetal-feeding mark Camille had told me about.

Cold sweat soaked through my back in an instant. I no longer doubted a single word she'd said.

But I didn't dare show any of my terror.

I crushed the fear down and, under her watchful eyes, made myself scoop up a bite of the steamed egg.

Before it reached my mouth, her face changed and she shot to her feet.

"Priscilla Simmons, what did you do!"

I flinched. Had she found out?

"Mom, what — what's wrong? I didn't do anything!"

Her face was dark, her eyes fixed on me and refusing to let go.

She pulled out her phone and called my husband on the spot.

"Come home, now. She knows!"

My legs went weak. I backed away, again and again, and fled into my room.

Right then Camille called.

"Deidre's soul lost to the fetal-feeding curse. It's furious now, and it's going to strike back!"

Panic seized me. "Then what do I do?"

Camille dropped her voice low. "It's come to this. Let me borrow your body and face it myself!"

While I hesitated, bang, bang, bang — my mother-in-law was outside, pounding on the door like a woman possessed.

"Priscilla Simmons, open up! Open the door!"

Terror swallowed me whole.

Without a second thought I did exactly as Camille had said, cut open my finger and drew the charm, chanting:

"By my blood I make the pact, enter and take your place!"

I said it over and over, and a violent, wrenching pain tore through my belly.

Something was thrashing inside me, wild, until cold sweat streamed down my skin.

Just as my mind was going dark, Darren's voice came from outside the door, frantic, almost a scream.

"Priscilla! Stop! One more time and you really will die!"