The Stolen Child and a Doomed Lineage

On the eve of my due date, I received the news that Marcus Reeds yacht had exploded and that he was missing at sea.

The shock sent me into obstructed labor and massive bleeding. When I woke up, the doctor told me my baby had been born without a heartbeat.

The double blow of losing my husband and my child hollowed me out. I drifted through the hospital ward every day like a ghost.

Until late one night, the algorithm pushed me a video from an account called *Rosies Diary*.

The title read:

[A family of three escaping to an island. Love is the only salvation.]

In the video, a pair of long, well-defined hands gently held a woman in a lace dress. Between them was a newborn wrapped in a blanket.

On the inside of the babys wrist was a butterfly-shaped birthmark, red as blood.

The creator had been careful. The mans face was heavily blurred, and the wedding ring he always wore was gone.

But I could never mistake those hands.

Those hands had once pushed a burning beam away from me in a fire, leaving a long burn scar across the palm.

That scar was the medal of our seven years of love.

For one instant, I thought grief had made me hallucinate.

But if the scar was a coincidence, then how could I explain the butterfly birthmark on the babys wrist?

That birthmark was a maternal inheritance in the Whitaker family.

My grandmother had it. My mother had it. I had it.

With trembling fingers, I touched the skin on my own wrist.

It was a genetic brand. No one outside my family could possibly know about it.

If the scar was coincidence, what about this one-of-a-kind family birthmark?

I bit my lip hard, trying to use pain to force back the dizziness, but my fingers shook uncontrollably as I opened the comments.

Marcus really pulled off the fake-death escape. Congrats, man. When are you coming back so we can celebrate?

Keep it low-key. Only heaven and earth know about this. Dont let anything leak.

Dont worry, Marcus. Ill keep an eye on your wife.

Although the two accounts had default profile pictures, I would know that tone even if it turned to ash.

They were Marcuss two closest friends.

My nails dug deep into my palm, leaving sticky red crescents behind.

I never imagined that the husband who had sworn the day before to stay beside me in the delivery room would fake his death and run off with another woman the next day.

And even steal my child, the baby I had been told was stillborn.

Julia, why are you out of bed? Lie back down. The doctor said youre dangerously weak.

Travis pushed open the door, his face full of worry that almost looked real.

He hurried forward to support me.

Julia, the dead cant come back. You have to take care of yourself for Marcus. His death certificate and funeral arrangements are still waiting for your signature.

Funeral?

For a living man?

Maybe my dead, empty stare made Travis nervous.

His eyes flickered, and he tried to smooth things over.

Dont be too hopeless, okay? The search at sea still isnt over. They havent found a body. Maybe maybe there could still be a miracle.

You mean Marcus might not be dead?

My sluggish mind finally caught a thread of logic in the chaos.

I didnt understand what Marcus was trying to accomplish with this act.

Abandon his wife and child, then come back later as if nothing had happened?

Travis didnt dare meet my eyes.

Im just trying to comfort you. Anyway, you need to take care of yourself first.

As if afraid I would notice the holes in his story, he muttered something about paying the hospital bill and fled the room.

Two minutes later, my phone chimed with a special-follow notification.

[Your special follow just posted a new update.]

The moment I saw that first video, I had followed Rosies account with an old unused profile.

To avoid being tracked, Marcus must have cut off all contact back home. That womans account was his only window.

Dragging my body, torn with pain, I supported myself against the wall and moved step by step toward the door.

I knew this might be my only chance to tear open the bloody truth.

I clenched my teeth and quietly followed Travis.

Just as I turned the corner of the hallway, I heard him complaining in a low voice.

Marcus, what the hell is this? Julia looks like shes about to follow you into the grave.

Through the phone came the sound of waves and the familiar voice of that man.

Cold enough to freeze my blood.

Whats the rush? Stabilize her first. Have her handle the insurance claim and funeral matters. Once the heat dies down, Ill naturally come back.

Didnt you say you were just going on a honeymoon and coming back? Why drag it out so long?

Marcus laughed softly, his tone full of indulgence.

What do you know? There are too many annoying procedures back home. Rosie wants a once-in-a-lifetime wedding, so of course I have to give her one overseas.

The pulling pain in my abdominal incision reminded me that I had walked through the gates of death for this man.

But no physical pain could compare to even one ten-thousandth of what was happening to my heart.

In a daze, I remembered every time I mentioned holding the wedding we never had, Marcus always put me off.

He said, My career is rising right now. A wedding would be too distracting. Youre my best partner, Julia. You understand, right?

After I found out I was pregnant, he said, Honey, wearing a wedding dress with a big belly wont look good. After the baby is born, Ill give you the grandest wedding.

How ridiculous.

I once treated those lies as sacred promises.

From the other end of the phone came a womans sweet, clingy voice.

Marcus immediately changed into a gentle tone and coaxed her for a few words. Then he spoke coldly to Travis.

Remember to keep an eye on your sister-in-law. Make sure she recovers. Rosie says she wants a daughter, and then well have the perfect pair.

When I returned to the room, my phone screen was still lit.

The influencer called Rosie had started a livestream.

On camera, she wore a bohemian dress and smiled innocently.

Good evening, babes. The babys dad is way too shy. He refuses to appear on camera and wont even let me talk too much.

A large hand reached in from the side and affectionately pinched Rosies cheek.

The live chat exploded.

Oh my God, what kind of fairytale love is this?

So this is the rich heir who fought the whole world for love? Im obsessed!

New follower here. Whats the story?

Girl, this is true love wins. Rosies husband faked his death and gave up a billion-dollar inheritance to escape an arranged marriage!

On-screen, the woman lowered her head shyly.

We already exchanged vows at a local church. In the face of true love, a marriage certificate is just paper.

As soon as she finished, the man outside the frame leaned in and kissed her forehead.

The livestream was full of their shameless flirting, while in the background, a babys weak crying could be heard.

Am I the only one who thinks that baby sounds miserable? His throat sounds hoarse.

When Rosie saw the comment, her face changed slightly. She reached over and dragged the baby into frame.

Her stiff way of holding him made him cry even harder.

Hes an abandoned baby my husband and I adopted. Ive never had a child before, but Ill love him as my own. Hell be the luckiest baby in the world.

The comments were full of praise, calling her beautiful and kind.

Only I caught the disgust that flashed in Rosies eyes when she lowered her head.

And the hand hidden under the blanket, pressing too hard.

My child.

I covered my mouth tightly as tears broke free without sound.

When Travis came back, he arranged top-tier VIP care for me.

I did not refuse.

Even if it was paid for with my husbands death money, I needed to recover as fast as possible.

Only then would I have the strength for revenge.

In the days that followed, I lived like a ghost and watched through a screen as Marcus and his true love held a lavish wedding in Bali.

From the release of white doves to the champagne roses scattered across the ground.

Every detail was taken from the dream wedding I had once drawn for him in my notebook.

I still remembered showing Marcus my hand-drawn plans with excitement.

He had looked so carefully, his eyes warm enough to melt.

He said, Whatever you want, Ill give it to you. Even if you ask for the stars.

Back then, I was so moved I held him and said I only needed him.

Now, he had indeed recreated my dream perfectly.

Only the bride had changed.

Watching the man on-screen kneel on one knee and swear his loyalty, I lifted my hand without expression and wiped away my last tear.

Snap.

The rosewood prayer bracelet on my wrist suddenly broke, scattering beads across the floor.

Marcus had once climbed the steps of a mountain shrine on his knees to ask for that bracelet.

Back then, my family had fallen apart. My father jumped from a building. My mother lost her mind. Debt collectors cornered me until I almost ended my own life.

It was Marcus who stood in front of me, took the beating for me, and said through blood:

Julia, as long as Im alive, no one can touch you.

He put that bracelet on my wrist and swore:

The priest said these beads block disaster. If they stay, I stay. If they break, I die.

His vow still rang in my ears.

And now the bracelet had broken.

I looked at the beads rolling across the floor.

The last soft filter I had over my youth shattered completely.

This was fate.

The toxic bond was over.

My son is barely gone, and youre sitting here eating grapes one after another? You curse of a woman!

Before I could bend to pick up the beads, brute force dragged me off the sofa.

Marcuss mother stormed in like a madwoman.

After postpartum bleeding, my body had been ruined. Add the mental torture of these days, and I was frighteningly weak.

But Mrs. Reed had spent her life doing farm work in the countryside and was strong as an ox. I was shoved around like a rag doll.

I said from the beginning you had the face of a woman who would ruin her husband! And look now. You killed my son, and you didnt even leave behind a grandson. Give me back my son!

Mrs. Reed wailed and struck me at the same time.

Travis peeked in from the doorway, calling out hypocritically.

Maam, calm down. Julia is a victim too.

He said he was helping, but his feet were rooted to the spot. He did not take a single step forward to separate us.

What kind of victim is she? Living in my sons house, spending my sons compensation money! What use is a hen that cant lay eggs?

Mrs. Reed and I had always had a tense relationship.

She despised me as a fallen heiress, too delicate and too expensive.

Marcus used to protect me. He even sent his mother back to her hometown over it.

That only made Mrs. Reed hate me more.

Now that Marcus was no longer there to restrain her, her malice burst open like floodwater.

Ugh!

Her elbow rammed into my abdomen.

The wound that had barely healed tore with sharp pain.

In my daze, I wondered whether Marcus had imagined this scene before staging his death.

Of course he had.

Maybe this had been part of the plan.

I closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, only icy resolve remained.

If no one would protect me, then I would protect myself.

I grabbed the heavy crystal ashtray from the coffee table.

With a loud crack, I smashed it against Mrs. Reeds forehead.

Blood instantly ran down her cheek.