Reborn My Husband's 'Therapy' With His First Love Was a Lie

The moment I saw the results on the blood panel, my fingernails dug into my palms so hard they drew blood. Droplets fell one by one onto the floor beside my feet.

The doctor's voice echoed in my ears.

"Ms. Barnes, your bloodstream contains dangerously high levels of diazepam, a powerful sedative, as well as immunosuppressants. That's why you've been experiencing chronic dizziness and fatigue."

"These substances cause irreversible neurological damage to a fetus. I strongly recommend you terminate the pregnancy as soon as possible."

My hand drifted to my lower belly. Tears spilled down my cheeks again, hot and relentless.

"I'm so sorry, baby. Mommy thought she could protect you this time around. I'm so sorry I failed you."

"I hope you find your way back up to heaven and pick yourself a good mother. One who can give you a whole lifetime of happiness."

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and forced my voice steady.

"Doctor, please schedule the procedure. I consent to the termination."

He nodded.

Two hours later, I lay on the freezing surgical table, feeling the sharp instruments scrape inside me, stroke after agonizing stroke, taking my baby away.

A sour, stinging pressure flooded my eyes. I squeezed them shut and forced it back down.

By nine that evening, the IV drip was finished. I dragged my hollow, trembling body home.

The instant I pushed open the door, a flicker of surprise crossed Oliver's face. It vanished just as fast, replaced by a scowl.

"Are you done throwing your tantrum?"

"Look at yourself. Getting pregnant has made you even more impossible. Paranoid, controlling, lashing out at everyone. Do you have any idea how upset Mamie is because of you?"

I looked at Mamie, nestled against Oliver's chest, eyes red-rimmed with perfectly performed hurt.

I laughed. A low, hollow sound.

I walked over slowly and slapped the surgical discharge form onto the coffee table.

"Oliver, your child is gone. And here you are, fussing over your little mistress. Don't you even want to know why?"

Oliver's eyes narrowed. The second he read the words on that paper, the color drained from his face. He shoved Mamie aside, seized my shoulders, and roared.

"Bernice! How could you be so heartless? Just because you were jealous, you went and killed our baby? Are you even human?"

"You've completely lost your mind. I'm having you committed!"

He lunged at me, hands reaching for my arms. I laughed again, that same empty laugh, and swung my palm hard across his face the moment it got close enough.

"I'm the one who's lost her mind? Why don't you ask your precious little mistress what she's been putting in my soup?"

I pulled the lab report from my pocket and hurled it at his face.

"Read it, Oliver. Read every line. Then tell me who's heartless. Tell me who killed this baby."

He stared at me, bewildered, then bent down and picked the report up off the floor.

Three seconds. That was all it took. His pupils blew wide, and disbelief flooded his expression.

"You... how are you poisoned? How is your immune system this destroyed?"

I shifted my gaze to Mamie.

"Miss Winfield. You know exactly what's in my system. Don't you?"

Every drop of color vanished from Mamie's face. Her eyes darted between me and Oliver in open panic.

"Oliver, this has nothing to do with me! Maybe she's been eating junk food on her own and that's what caused it?"

She squeezed out a few tears on cue, her voice trembling with rehearsed fragility.

"Bernice, how could you do something so cruel? Just to get rid of me, you poisoned yourself with God knows what, and now you're pinning it on me?"

"Even if you hate me, the baby was innocent! That was Oliver's child too. Can you imagine how much pain he's in right now?"