“You’ll suffer naturally because you’re toxic,” my doctor husband sneered, blocking the nurses from performing a C-section for my giant 10-pound baby as revenge for his intern. I writhed in pain, clutching the bed rails until my knuckles turned white. When the grueling delivery finally ended, the heavy delivery room doors banged open. My husband staggered in, his face drained of color as he looked at the newborn chart, fell to the floor, and shrieked, “No… that’s impossible! Whose child is-“
“You aren’t a god of medicine, Bradley. You aren’t even a competent villain,” I whispered, delivering the final, fatal blow to his psyche. “You are just a cowardly murderer who required a naive girl to perform his slaughter.”
A sound tore free from Bradley’s throat—not a scream, but a fractured, hollow wail of a soul being permanently detached continue reading …