The Man I Helped Tried to Bury My Child Alive

I instinctively held the child tighter. “What are you trying to do?”

“How can I be at ease letting Ethan stay with you in your condition?”

“No!” I staggered back. “He’s my son! I won’t be separated from him!”

Victor’s gaze turned ice-cold as he forcefully pulled Ethan from my arms. The child wailed again, his cries piercing.

“Give him back to me!” I lunged forward, but he kicked me away. My waist slammed into the sharp corner of the cabinet, and a low cry of pain escaped my lips.

Victor hesitated for a moment, his back stiffening, but he never turned around. He helped Vanessa Bright up and left—carrying my son.

The door shut behind them. Before the last sliver of light vanished, I was consumed by darkness.

When I regained consciousness, everything was bathed in stark white.

It was the bedroom ceiling. I turned my head and saw Victor asleep beside the bed. He stirred the moment I moved, and his fingers lightly brushed my cheek. “You’re awake. Do you feel unwell?”

“I…” My throat was dry and raspy, barely able to form words.

Victor quickly held a cup to my lips. “You’ve been unconscious for a whole day and night. Why didn’t you tell me you had hypoglycemia? Do you know how scared I was when you collapsed?”

His worry and concern looked sincere—so much so that, for a fleeting second, I almost forgot he had locked me and our child in that storage room.

That gentleness nearly deceived me. Almost.

One day and one night. That meant in just four more days, I could finally leave him.

I struggled to sit up. “Where’s Ethan?”

He gently pushed me back down. “Don’t worry, Vanessa’s looking after him.”

“What?” My heart clenched. I instantly pushed him away and got out of bed.

The moment my feet hit the floor, Victor grabbed my wrist and threw me back down.

“What are you doing?” He shut his eyes, clearly trying to restrain his anger. “Claire, you need to rest now.”

Fear and fury surged through me. “You left my child with Vanessa Bright—how do you expect me to rest?”

“Claire!” Victor’s rage erupted. He paced beside the bed several times before finally snapping, “Why are you so hostile toward Vanessa? Didn’t you two used to get along?”

“Yes,” I laughed bitterly, “I once treated her like a sister. But what did she do? Have you ever asked? Have you bothered to find out?”

“You—”

A woman’s scream and a baby’s cry suddenly rang out from the next room.

I shoved Victor aside and rushed to the nursery. The sight before me turned my blood to ice.

Ethan was lying on his back in the crib, face flushed red, his tiny body convulsing with harsh coughs. Vomited milk stained his cheeks, his chest, and the sheets.

Vanessa Bright stood to the side, wiping her clothes with a baby wipe, her face twisted in frustration.

I hurriedly scooped up Ethan, patting his back anxiously. As I drew closer, I saw red rashes blooming across his forehead and chest.

Victor was the first to turn to Vanessa Bright. “How did this happen?”

I demanded, “Vanessa Bright, what did you give him?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, I just fed him milk formula.”

Victor wrapped her protectively in his arms. “Why are you blaming her? She’s still just a child!”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Yet you still trusted her to care for Ethan? Did you even check if he had allergies? Did you even look at him when you came in?”

“Enough!” Victor suddenly roared, “Vanessa did her best to care for him. And you? You’re always finding faults!”

“Claire, your jealousy and bitterness right now—it honestly disgusts me!”