Nine Months Pregnant and my Husband Killed my Twins

I lost count of how many times they threw me off.

Each fall was the same—air ripping through my lungs, my body yanked back violently by the bungee cord, my screams swallowed by the darkness. Every time I was pulled back up, I begged for mercy, my voice hoarse and cracking. But no one listened.

No one cared.

The cycle repeated, again and again, until I couldn’t even scream anymore. My throat burned, my body was weak, and my arms hung limply at my sides. I felt like I was dying.

Maybe I was.

Night had fallen. I barely noticed at first—my mind was too foggy, too numb—but then the cold seeped into my bones. I was shaking, my dress soaked with sweat and tears.

I turned to the butler, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Please… please stop. I can’t… my baby…”

He hesitated. His eyes flickered with conflict, with hesitation. For the first time, I saw something in him that wasn’t just blind obedience.

He stepped away, pulling out his phone.

Scott.

I could barely make out the words through the ringing in my ears, but I heard them.

“Sir, we should stop. She’s too pale… she might not make it. And the baby—”

“Keep going.”

Scott’s voice was cold. Firm. Unwavering.

And then, in the background, I heard her.

Jasmin.

“But Scott, maybe she really can’t take it anymore,” she murmured, her voice dripping with fake concern. “What if something happens?”

“Then it happens,” Scott snapped. “She deserves it. Keep going until morning.”

The butler hesitated for only a second. Then, he turned back to me, avoiding my pleading gaze.

And he pushed me again.

I couldn’t fight it anymore. My body had nothing left. I fell, my limbs lifeless, the wind howling around me like a cruel lullaby.

But this time—something was different.

A sharp pain tore through my stomach.

I gasped, clutching my belly as a hot rush of liquid soaked my thighs.

No. No, no, no—

It was too early.

Not now.

Not like this.

A choked sob left my lips as the pain intensified. My body convulsed, my nails digging into my arms, my legs trembling as I tried—desperately—to hold on.

But then—

A feeling of something slipping. Something leaving me.

And then—

A splash.

A sickening, tiny splash.

And the world around me shattered.

My mind blanked. My breath stopped.

My baby.

My baby.

I couldn’t even see. I couldn’t move. My body swayed, and just as I felt myself being yanked back up by the bungee cord, my vision faded into black.

The next morning, a heavy boot slammed into my ribs.

“Get up.”

I barely felt it. My body was already broken.

Another kick. Harder this time.

“Stop pretending. You think you can fool me?” Scott’s voice dripped with irritation, as if I was nothing more than an inconvenience to him. “Get up.”

I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

I was vaguely aware of the butler approaching, his voice tight. “Sir… Miss Camille fainted. Her body was too weak to handle it.”

Scott scoffed. “Tch. Weak, my ass.”

He turned away from me, his gaze flicking toward the pool.

Then, he froze.

“What the hell?”

I barely registered his footsteps moving toward the water. But then, his voice cut through the air again, sharper this time.

“What did you do to the pool?”

Silence.

Then—

“Why is there something red in the water?”

My stomach twisted. I didn’t want to look.

I couldn’t look.

I heard the shift in his breathing, the slight tremor in his voice.

“Is that a toy? Two toys?” He paused. “Like a—like a baby?”

A chill ran through the air.

Scott turned back to me, his lips parting, confusion clouding his features. “What the hell is that?”

The butler hesitated. Then, he swallowed hard and spoke.

“Sir…” His voice was soft. Careful. “Miss Camille’s belly is flat.”

Scott’s eyes snapped toward me.

“What?”

The butler exhaled shakily. His hands trembled as he pointed toward the pool.

“Sir… those two figures in the water… I think they’re your twins.”