My Water Broke, but a Secretary Manipulated My Husband

The pain was unbearable and I could not straighten my back, curling up on the ground instead.

"I'm really going to give birth. The baby’s only seven months old, it’s very dangerous. This is your baby too. Please, let me go to the hospital..."

An intense pain surged through my stomach. I was not sure if the fall had harmed the baby.

For the sake of the child in my belly, I swallowed my pride, reached out, grabbed his trousers and begged in desperation.

"Give me your phone. I’ll call an ambulance myself. Please..."

"This is your own flesh and blood."

Maxime kicked me aside and sneered at the carpet soaked in amniotic fluid with disgust.

The pain drained all my strength, leaving me collapsed on the floor like a lifeless animal.

Maxime crouched down, pinching my neck. His voice was colder than ever.

"Why are you pretending? You’re so addicted to acting. If I don’t teach you a lesson today, you’ll think you can sit on my head and piss on me forever."

"Put her in the toilet," he ordered.

"Get two waiters to clean up the urine stains on the carpet. It’s disgusting to look at."

Two low-level thugs seized my arms and dragged me into one of the toilets in the room.

I screamed for help, my voice weak. "Call an ambulance, please, someone call an ambulance for me..."

The young girl who had been accompanying the drinks looked concerned and spoke softly.

"Mr. Remington, she really doesn’t look well. Maybe we should just let her go, no? She’s pregnant, after all."

Juan grabbed the girl’s hair and slapped her across the face. "What’s it to you? Who are you to question my buddy’s decision?"

The girl did not dare to argue, offering only a nervous smile.

Several older women laughed at her.

"Sis, you're still too green. These are the tricks that wives use to manipulate their men. Believe me, if Mr. Remington sends her home, she’ll be fine in no time."

Lily was full of herself, pretending to offer advice. "Mrs. Remington, Max is doing this for your own good. He just wants you to stay in the toilet and clean up so you don’t embarrass yourself."

She twisted her graceful waist and settled back onto Maxime’s lap, turning to look at me. With a silent smirk, she flaunted her victory.

"You lose."

Outside the door, there was music and laughter while I was left behind, isolated and defeated.

I sat on the cold floor, my back against the wall and slapped the door with all the strength I could muster.

"Help…"

The door closed and my small cry was abruptly silenced.

Pain coursed through my body like a thousand iron nails driven in. I thought of the lessons from the pregnancy classes.

The contractions were coming faster now. I focused on my breathing, trying to keep calm and deliver the baby on my own.

Calm down, Sophie Marlowe, you can do this.

Your baby needs you.

Tears mixed with sweat as I screamed, almost losing my voice.

The lower part of my abdomen felt as though it was being torn apart. The air was thick with the smell of blood.

I had no idea how much time had passed, but the pain only worsened each second.

It hurt so much... the baby could not come out.

Panic set in, my heart racing. I gritted my teeth and felt the blood pooling beneath me.

With trembling hands, I scrawled on the frosted glass of the toilet door.

[SOS]

I slapped bloody handprints onto the door, desperate for anyone outside to notice.

The person who had just left the adjacent toilet froze in shock and shouted loudly.

"Max, something feels so wrong!"

"There are blood stains on the toilet door. Your wife might really be giving birth!"

When I heard someone finally recognize the danger, a glimmer of hope sparked within me.

My baby, please hold on.

Maxime, drunk and indifferent, sneered.

"What’s with the blood stain? She must’ve snuck in a bottle of red wine. How could a seven-month-old baby be born now? She’s just acting."

The man hesitated, fear creeping into his voice as he tried again to persuade.

"Max, why don’t you open the door and take a look first? Don’t be afraid of the worst, but be cautious about what might happen."

Maxime remained indifferent and Lily cooed softly from his arms. "Sophie has pulled this trick before, insisting that Max fire me. You don’t know her. She’s just upset because Max didn’t spend New Year's Eve with her and now she’s causing trouble."

The man outside the door fell silent, no longer insisting. My hope flickered, then began to fade.

The sharp pain in my stomach snapped me back to reality.

No. I can’t give up.

My dear, Mommy will save you.

I took off my coat and wrote a message with my bloody fingers for help with it.

With trembling hands, I removed my coat and scrawled a message for help on it with my bloodied fingers.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I struggled to climb onto the toilet, pushed open the small ventilation window above and attempted to throw my coat out the window.

But the agony made it impossible to straighten my back. My clothes got stuck.

I bit my lip, fighting back tears and finally managed to throw the coat out.

Just then, the sole of my foot slipped and I fell backward with a loud sound.

Bang!

The noise jolted the people outside.

My vision blurred and I faintly heard Maxime's voice.

"Sophie..."