My Unborn Son Wants Me Dead

My wife, Quinn Foster, had become the youngest Section Chief in the Bureau of Classified Operations, all thanks to the supposed voices of the baby in her womb.

I was visiting her on a holiday leave when I first heard that chilling voicea phenomenon that had reportedly helped her root out a mole in the Bureau.

The whisper, clear as a bell inside my head, was horrifying:

[Oh no, its the Bad Dad! Hes the one who stole and sold the core technology!]

In my previous lifethe one that had just ended seconds agoI hadn't even had a chance to speak. Quinn had instantly leveled her standard-issue service pistol at my shoulder and fired.

"Who did you sell the tech to? Talk!"

I remembered the searing pain as I tried to explain, but her face was a mask of cold fury. Before I could finish, she raised the gun again. A single, decisive shot to my head.

[Mommy is so strong! The Bad Dad is finally gone, and the data he stole is hidden in that flash drive!]

I died that day, utterly baffled, never understanding how I became the traitor, the classified information leaker.

Now, I was back. Reborn into the very morning of that fateful visit.

I looked at her familiar, yet already hardening face, and then at the man beside herher trusted deputy, Chris Valen, whom the 'voice' called the "Good Uncle."

I reached into my pocket, pulling out a flash drive. I held it out to my wife.

"If this is the evidence you want," I said, my voice steady, "then go ahead and shoot me."

Quinn took the flash drive, her brows furrowing slightly.

When she flipped through the contents, she found nothing but a folder filled with photosjust old snapshots of us.

"What is this?" she asked, confusion coloring her icy tone.

"You heard the baby's 'voice,' didn't you?" I asked. "It says I stole core technology."

"This is the 'evidence' it pointed to."

In the last life, someoneI still didn't know whohad planted classified files onto my personal drive, setting me up perfectly.

The moment I woke up in this life, Id scrubbed the drive clean. Every single byte.

Quinns expression shifted, a flicker of alarm crossing her eyes as she was about to ask how I could hear the baby's voice.

At that exact moment, the door burst open.

A uniformed man charged in, his weapon instantly fixed on me.

"Don't move! Hands up, now!"

His gaze was sharp, accusatoryit was Chris Valen, Quinns partner and deputy.

Quinn was genuinely startled. "Chris, what are you doing? Put the weapon down."

She didn't sound like she was faking it. She truly hadn't expected Chris to show up like this. It confirmed my suspicion: Chris had planned this ambush.

"Section Chief, Ashton Vance is leaking critical military technology. He needs to be arrested, immediately"

I raised an eyebrow, a grim smile touching my lips. "Hold on. How do you know Im leaking anything?"

I turned to Quinn, demanding an answer. "Did the Bureau already issue an order for my arrest, or is this a little off-the-books operation between the two of you?"

Chris scowled, his voice cold and hard. "What are you trying to spin? Isn't the flash drive the evidence?"

His eyes darted to Quinn, urging her on. "Section Chief, the suspect is right here. Why are we hesitating?"

Quinns face was devoid of expression as she tossed the flash drive back to him.

"See for yourself. Its only photos of me and Ashton. Nothing else."

She pursed her lips, a reluctant admission escaping her. "The baby must have been mistaken this time."

Chris was incredulous, vehemently shaking his head. "Impossible. Thats impossible. The baby has never been wrong. It's always been right."

He jammed the drive into a portable device, frantically scrolling, checking, and rechecking. "There has to be something we missed."

It was a chilling realization: Chris knew more about this "babys voice" phenomenon than I did, the child's own father.

My eyes darkened. I closed them for a brief moment, forcing myself back to neutral. "Since you two have work to do, I wont interrupt."

I held out my hand to Chris. "Hand it over when youre done looking."

Chris glared at me, his desperation obvious as he searched the empty drive a few more times. Finally, defeated, he snapped it back at me. He spun on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door.

I gathered my things and reached for the door handle.

Then, the voice started again.

[The Bad Dad must have moved the data and hidden it somewhere else. Mommy, grab him and interrogate him!]

A knot of panic tightened in my chest, a cold sweat breaking out on my back. I gripped the handle, fighting to appear calm as I pulled the door open.

"Ashton, stop right there!"

Quinns sharp voice cut through the silence.

I ignored her, pushing through the door.

"You traitor! Where do you think you're going?"

In the next second, Chris materialized from the shadows of the hallway and tackled me with a flying kick.

I crumpled to the floor, the agonizing pain in my abdomen stealing my breath. Chris was on me instantly, expertly and brutally binding my wrists behind my back with a heavy nylon restraint.

"Is this the Bureau of Classified Operations protocol?" I gritted out, the sweat pouring down my temples.

"You have no evidence to call me a traitor, and no warrant to restrict my freedom."

Chris let out a chilling laugh, pressing the muzzle of his pistol against the back of my skull. "If you've got nothing to hide, why are you running?"

"Don't even think about escaping. My bullets dont care who you are."

The baby's voice chirped again, full of unnatural glee:

[The Good Uncle is so amazing! He caught the Bad Dad in one try!]

Quinn walked closer, her face stone-cold, and gently stroked her swelling belly.

"Baby, where did Ashton transfer the data?"

[The Bad Dad is too cunning. I dont know either. Mommy will have to question him herself.]

Quinn lifted her gaze, meeting Chriss eyes. The look they exchangeda silent, unsettling understandingsent a shiver of pure dread down my spine.

"Take him to the interrogation room," Quinn ordered flatly.

Chris roughly yanked me up and shoved me down the long, cold corridor.

The interrogation room was sterile, cold, and oppressive.

Chris slammed me into the specialized chair, the restraints instantly locking onto my limbs. He pressed my arms down hard onto the armrests, and the automatic cuffs clicked shut on my wrists and ankles. I looked at the one person who should have been the most familiar to me, a last thread of hope in my voice:

"Quinn Foster, have three years of marriage meant so little that you don't even know who I am?"

She stood with her back to me, facing the one-way mirror, her shoulders rigid.

"Its because I thought I knew you," her voice was distant, clinical, "that I find this so disgusting now."

Chris suddenly wrenched my arm, and a searing pain shot through me, threatening to snap the bone.

"Where. Is. The. Data?!" His voice was tight with a disturbing thrill. "Spit it out now, and itll be easier on you."

The intense pain brought a coppery taste of blood to my throat, but I clamped down. "I haven't seen any data. You can search everything I own."

Quinn finally turned, her eyes like ice picks. "The baby never makes a mistake."

She leaned in, her grip tight on my jaw. "Just confess, Ashton. Don't make this hard for yourself."

A small nod of her head was all Chris needed. He tightened the restraints, and I was completely immobilized.

"Why the stubbornness?" Chris fiddled with a small metal instrument in his hand. "Out of respect for Section Chief Foster, I truly didn't want to resort to this."

I struggled furiously, only making the restraints dig deeper.

"This is illegal coercion! Torture!" I gasped out, staring at Quinn. "Have you forgotten every single Bureau regulation?"

I locked eyes with her, begging her to stop this.

But she barely glanced at me before looking away.

In that instant, my heart plunged into an abyss.

As Chris adjusted his collar, a platinum tie clip caught the light. It was painfully familiara custom piece Quinn had made for me for our wedding anniversary, engraved with our initials.

Now it was pinned to his tie.

I managed a hollow, bitter laugh.

"Just end it now."

"Save us all the trouble."

Chris instinctively put a hand over the clip.

Quinn lunged forward, a stinging slap connecting with my cheek.

"Stop with the nonsense!" Her voice was sharp as glass. "Chris and I have a purely professional relationship!"

She noticed the clip, and her voice wavered. "It's just a tie clip. What's wrong with rewarding a subordinate? You never used it anyway. It was just collecting dust at home."

A blockage formed in my chest, and a familiar ache burned behind my nose.

I had kept that tie clip carefully tucked away in my study. She had taken it without a word and given it to him. When I'd asked about it before, she had simply brushed it off, saying shed order a better one.

Only now did I understand: her utter ruthlessness in the last life wasnt just about the cursed 'voice.'

It was because her heart was already gone.

Understanding brought a strange calm.

"Do what you will," I said flatly.

Just then, Quinn suddenly clutched her abdomen, and the distinct voice chimed in.

[Bad Dad, why are you making Mommy make mistakes?]

I flinched. I suddenly realized that the childs character in this life was drastically different from the one in my memory, which had actively encouraged Quinn to shoot me.

Quinns boot slammed into my ribs. The sharp, searing pain stole my breath. "Trying to make me violate Bureau protocol? Ashton, that's a brilliant plan!"

The voice immediately backed her up:

[Bad Dad is so awful! Mommy and Uncle Chris, hurry up and teach him a lesson!]

Chris glanced at Quinn. She gave an almost imperceptible nod. He brought the electric baton down hard on my temple.

Warm blood immediately tracked down my forehead, and the metallic taste of rust bloomed in my mouth.

"Confess!" Chriss voice was twisted with fervor as he struck me again. "Youre defiling Section Chief Fosters reputation!"

Waves of dizziness washed over me. I locked my eyes on Quinn.

"You are abusing your power! You're going to convict me based on a fetus's 'voice?'"

I spat a mouthful of blood onto the polished toe of her boot. "When the truth comes out, none of you will escape this!"

Quinn waved Chris to stop, then pressed the baton against my jaw.

"You know how I became the youngest Section Chief?"

She slammed my head against the wall.

"It's all thanks to the babys voice. I might be wrong, but it is never wrong!"

The voice chimed in again:

[The Bad Dad is about to die and hes still trying to frame me!]

[Does he really think he covered his tracks perfectly?]

Chris immediately leaned forward, his palm resting on Quinns belly. The gesture was sickeningly intimate, as if he were the father.

"Good boy, tell Uncle Chris. What else did your father do?"

"Uncle Chris will punish him for you."

I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "What a beautiful display of deep affection. Is this how you two usually run your investigations?"

That comment completely broke Quinns control.

She drew her pistol and fired, the bullet piercing my kneeexactly as it had in the previous life.

The agony was absolute, and blood quickly pooled on the floor.

"You will regret this!" I roared.

The voice returned, dropping a deadly bomb:

[The Bad Dad is collaborating with foreign spies!]

[His company is an intelligence relay station. Who knows how many secrets hes leaked?]

The accusation ignited Quinn's rage. As a core operative, she despised traitors more than anything.

She raised the gun to finish me, but Chris suddenly stepped between us.

"Chief, hold on. We still have no proof."

He glanced back at me. "And we can't let him die this easily."

To my surprise, Quinn actually lowered the gun. Given her stubborn nature, once she decided something, she never backed down. How much did she truly care about Chris?

I was gasping for air. "Quinn Foster, if you have the guts, just give me a clean death!"

In a flash, Chriss knife plunged into my thigh.

"You want to die? Not a chance!"

He switched on the chest-mounted recorder. "Ashton Vance, do you admit to colluding with foreign intelligence?"

I spat a mix of blood and saliva onto his face. "You're making baseless accusations!"

I struggled against the pain. "I, Ashton Vance, have always acted with integrity! You are manufacturing a confession!"

Chris smirked and turned off the recorder, then twisted the knife in my wound. The physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart.

After being reborn, I finally saw Quinn for who she really was.

Amidst my tortured groans, a piercing alarm blared.

The basement door was smashed open, and Bureau agents, weapons drawn, flooded the room. Chris was tackled and subdued before he could utter a word.

The Deputy Director, a man named Agent Thorne, rushed to my side and personally released my restraints.

"Agent Vance, are you alright?"

My hands shaking, I pulled a micro-recorder from my inner jacket pocket.

"The evidence... it's all here..."

The pain and the blood loss were overwhelming. I lost consciousness on the bumpy ride to the hospital.