Chapter 1
I had never given birth to a child in my entire life, yet somehow I ended up suffering from a devastating case of postpartum depression out of nowhere.
My husband, Hunter Blackwood, was constantly worried and never once left my side, day or night.
Everything changed when I became unexpectedly pregnant. To help me recover from emotional trauma, we arranged for a clinical hypnotherapist to guide my healing.
Halfway through the session, a long-buried memory suddenly crashed into my mind without warning.
I was standing outside a door, holding my breath, when I heard Hunter lower his voice to our live-in housekeeper, Aimee Vale.
"Heather became pregnant three times, and every single one of those pregnancies ended because of your so-called ‘accidents’. Those were my children, too!"
Aimee pressed her lips together, tears gathering in her eyes.
"You promised me your first child would be with me. I thought you would agree with what I did."
"I know, I was wrong. I’ll give my life to make up for those three babies."
Hunter pulled her tightly into his arms and let out a heavy, helpless sigh.
"How could I ever let you do something like that?"
"You can throw all the fits you want at me, but you are never allowed to hurt Heather again!"
"This is the last time. Don’t let it happen again."
I kicked the door open and stormed inside. I lunged at them both, screaming and clawing like a possessed woman, demanding a divorce right then and there.
But before I could escape, Hunter locked me away and used experimental technology to erase my memory against my will.
I jolted awake, my whole body soaked through with cold sweat.
The moment I opened my eyes, Aimee was standing right in front of me, holding out a bowl of medicine.
"Ma’am, this is a prenatal tonic to stabilize your pregnancy. Please drink it while it’s still warm."
*****
As I stared at Aimee, white-hot hatred surged through every inch of my body.
I snatched the bowl of bitter liquid from her hands and threw it straight into her face.
"AAH!"
Aimee screamed in pain, clutching her face as she trembled and collapsed.
"Heather, what the hell are you doing?!"
Hunter burst into the room. His first instinct was to rush toward Aimee, pulling her up without hesitation.
I stared at the raw panic in his expression, and my heart twisted painfully even as hatred burned hotter.
His accusing voice echoed in my ears, and shattered fragments of memory surged back.
My first miscarriage happened because I slipped on oil in the bathroom.
Blood soaked through my nightgown as I screamed for help.
Aimee was nowhere to be found. When I called Hunter, he said he was in a meeting and hung up before I could explain.
By the time the ambulance arrived, our baby was already gone.
Lying on the cold hospital bed, I demanded to know why there had been oil on the floor.
But Hunter immediately stood in front of Aimee and pulled her behind him.
"She was just polishing the floor. Stop blaming others for your carelessness. It’s nobody’s fault but yours."
The second time, I was already several months pregnant when I missed a step on the stairs and fell all the way down.
Later, I checked the step and found it had been loosened.
But Hunter said I was being paranoid. No one would ever harm his child, he insisted.
By the third pregnancy, I became extremely cautious and barely left the house.
Even so, I suffered severe cramps after drinking the soup Aimee had prepared. By the time I reached the hospital, the baby was already stillborn.
Three consecutive tragedies shattered me completely. I did nothing but cry for days.
I could not understand why every pregnancy ended in a so-called accident until I once saw Hunter and Aimee holding each other and heard the truth.
Those weren't accidents. They were cold, calculated killings, one after another.
Right now, staring at Hunter’s face, a deep cold spread through my entire body.
I wanted to tear off his fake mask. I wanted to scream at him and demand why he allowed Aimee to steal my children over and over again.
But I couldn’t.
The last time I confronted them, Hunter locked me away, claiming my mental state was unstable.
That crippling terror of having my consciousness ripped away still sits in my very marrow.
I forced every screaming emotion back down my throat. It felt like swallowing shards of glass, tearing and burning all the way from my throat to my stomach.
"Hunter…"
Aimee chose that moment to burst into tears, her red-marked face trembling.
"I know Miss Heather is unwell… I didn’t mean to upset her. Even if I’m just a housekeeper, I still have dignity…"
She sobbed pitifully, tears streaming down her face, her shoulders shaking with soft sobs, as if I'd wronged her beyond all measure.
Hunter frowned deeply.
"Heather, I understand you're unwell. I've been putting up with your mood swings this whole time. But that doesn't excuse you from hurting other people!"
Then he turned to Aimee, and nothing could hide the raw ache in his gaze.
"Apologize to her."
"And give her your pearl necklace. It can be crushed into powder to treat her scar. A young woman can’t afford to be disfigured."
That necklace had been made from pearls cultured by my mother herself. It was her eighteenth birthday gift to me.
It meant everything to me. What right did he have to demand that I give it to his mistress to treat her injury?
Tears streamed down my face, but a hysterical, bitter laugh spilled out of my mouth anyway.
When Hunter saw my expression, his face darkened visibly before my eyes.
"Heather. Apologize."
I lifted my head, eyes burning red, and stared right at him. My voice came out ice-cold.
"Why on earth would I apologize to the woman who killed my children?"
