He Harvested Our Babies To Save Her

After my third stillbirth, I hemorrhaged badly—a brutal consequence of the emotional rollercoaster I'd been trapped on.

That morning, John went to church, lit candles, and said a prayer for me.

I woke up in the hospital bed after surgery and was just about to ring for the nurse when I heard John's voice outside my door, talking to the doctor.

"John, this is your and Sarah's third child. Even the strongest woman couldn't endure losing three babies!"

"Ashley said she needed a baby's heart for some experimental treatment, and you… you sacrificed your own children for her? You've lost your mind!"

"I promised Ashley I'd cure her. Once she's better, Sarah and I will have a healthy baby. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to Sarah—treating her the way she deserves."

My hand trembled, gripping the thin hospital sheet.

So my children's lives were nothing more than medicine for Ashley.

Now that fate had forced the truth into the light, I wouldn't let John fool me again.

"Those three stillbirths, caused by the medication, have taken a serious toll on Sarah's body. Aren't you concerned about whether she can even handle another pregnancy?"

"She's your wife, John! What you're doing is unbelievably cruel. How is she supposed to cope with losing all those babies?"

John cut the doctor off impatiently. "That's enough. I came to you because I thought you were a friend. This is my family—my business. I don't need a lecture."

"Just make sure Sarah gets the best meds and recovers quickly. I need her pregnant again as soon as possible."

The doctor sighed, and I caught a glimpse of pity in his eyes. "Sarah's been pregnant three years in a row. With this hemorrhage, she needs at least a year to recover before even thinking about another baby."

"Ashley doesn't have a year. I don't care what it takes—I want Sarah pregnant right after she's discharged."

John's tone was hard, leaving no room for negotiation.

The doctor glanced at my chart one more time before turning to leave. Sympathy flickered across his face.

"John, we've all seen how much Sarah has given you over the years. How could you…? Never mind. Just think about what you're doing. Don't let this be something you regret."

"Just go prepare the medication."

John pushed the door open, and I shut my eyes just in time.

He rested one hand gently over my IV line, warming the cold fluid with his palm. With the other, he held his phone and sent a voice message to Ashley.

"Ashley, did you get the medicine? Take good care of yourself. Don't worry about a thing—I promised I'd cure you, and I always keep my promises."

Tears burned behind my eyelids, but I refused to let them fall.

The love I thought we had was nothing but a lie.

John's sudden proposal… it was all because Ashley was sick and needed her "medicine."

We got pregnant soon after the wedding. All the checkups were normal. But in the seventh month, I went into early labor and delivered a stillborn.

I was shattered—consumed by guilt and grief. John held me, kissed me, comforted me. "It's okay, sweetheart. We're young. This baby will come back to us. The most important thing is for you to rest and recover."

With his support, I slowly put myself back together. I climbed out of the darkness.

But a year later, I delivered another stillborn in the eighth month. The doctor called it bad luck.

John pretended to comfort me. He promised we'd have a healthy baby next time.