Pregnant and On My Final Ride

The stench of blood hung heavy in the air, mixing with the faint scent of rust and damp earth. Hugh instinctively raised a hand to cover his nose, his expression twisted in discomfort.

"What the hell is that smell? What's Ava up to this time?!" His voice was impatient, as if all of this was nothing more than another one of my childish pranks.

His assistant stood to the side, forehead beaded with sweat. His hands clenched nervously, but his voice remained low. "Sir... perhaps you should see for yourself."

With a stiff motion, the assistant stepped aside, revealing the two shapes lying side by side on the bloodstained ground. Both were covered with white cloth—one larger, one heartbreakingly small.

Hugh's large hands hovered uncertainly between the two. His fingers curled and uncurled, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his usually cold eyes.

I clutched my chest, though there was no heartbeat there anymore, only the hollow ache of something long gone. I knew what was about to happen and the knowledge was suffocating. Still, I couldn't look away.

After what felt like an eternity, Hugh finally reached out toward the smaller bundle. His fingers trembled slightly as he pinched the edge of the cloth, slowly lifting it—

A sharp, high-pitched scream cut through the air before he could see anything.

"Hugh! What are you doing?! You're not actually going to touch that, are you? That's a stray cat's corpse!"

Sienna's shrill voice rang out as she stumbled toward him, her body trembling as she threw herself into his arms. Her face pressed into his chest, her small hands clutching at his shirt.

Hugh's body stiffened under her touch, but her words seemed to flip a switch in his mind. His expression darkened, disgust flashing across his face. Without another thought, his leg shot out, kicking the small bundle aside.

The tiny body rolled limply across the pavement, the once-pure white cloth unraveling just slightly, exposing a flash of soft, fragile skin.

"Get some dogs in here," Hugh barked, his voice cold and sharp. "Let them deal with it."

The order was carried out instantly. Stray dogs, drawn in by the scent of blood and flesh, swarmed the area within seconds. Their teeth tore into the small corpse without hesitation, their low growls blending with the wet, sickening sounds of ripping flesh.

I screamed, the sound tearing out of me like a wounded animal. I lunged forward, trying to claw at Hugh, trying to push the dogs away, trying to hold what was left of my baby. But my hands passed straight through everything.

I couldn't touch anything. I couldn't stop any of it.

But the pain—oh, the pain was real. It burned and twisted inside me, a thousand times worse than the agony of childbirth.

What had I done wrong? What had my child done wrong?

The dogs didn't stop until there was nothing left but scraps of cloth and dark, wet patches on the ground. As the last of the flesh disappeared, I caught a glimpse of Sienna, standing slightly apart from Hugh. A faint smile curled at the corners of her lips, a sinister gleam flashing in her eyes before she quickly lowered her gaze.

"Enough with these games!" Hugh's furious roar broke the silence. "Where's Ava?! Where the hell is she hiding?!" His fists clenched at his sides, veins bulging under his skin. "She drove Sienna to jump off a building and now she's trying to scare her with some dead cat? How did I never see how vicious Ava really is?!"

He turned, voice dripping with contempt. "Ava! Didn't you love that baby more than anything? If you don't crawl out right now, I swear—once the real baby is born, I'll divorce you on the spot. And don't even dream about getting custody. You'll never see that child again!"

I collapsed onto the ground, trembling with rage and heartbreak, my silent laughter mixing with tears I could no longer wipe away.

My parents were gone. Hugh, the man I had once trusted with my whole heart, had betrayed me without hesitation for Sienna. The only thing I had left was my baby. And now, my child—our child—had been torn apart by dogs, thrown away like trash and the man who fathered that child had stood by and watched.

Not even a body remained.

I swore, from the depths of whatever was left of my soul, that Hugh would rot in hell for this.

His voice rose again, loud and furious, demanding that I show myself. But there was no one left to answer him.

Finally, the assistant, pale and trembling, forced himself to step forward. His hands shook as he reached down, slowly lifting the white cloth covering the larger form. His voice wavered.

"Sir... Madam is right here. And your child... you just fed it to the stray dogs."