My Child Has No Father Now

Jason said something to me once. I held onto those words for four years.

Hed looked deep into my eyes and said, The person who pulled me out of that water is the person Ill cherish for the rest of my life.

I had smiled back thena quiet, knowing smile. He didnt know how close Id come to dying at the bottom of that freezing river just to drag his broken body to shore.

But that was before. Before I was seven months pregnant, and Cynthia pushed me down the stairs from the second floor.

My stomach collided brutally with the edge of the steps. In an instant, a hot, terrifying rush of blood bloomed across the fabric of my dress.

Right then, the heavy double doors swung open, and Jason walked in, flanked by his private medical team. I reached out a trembling, blood-stained hand, crying out his name, begging for help.

But his eyes only lingered on me for a fraction of a second. Then, without hesitation, he stepped right past me, rushing to Cynthia, who was sitting on the floor with nothing but a superficial scrape on her forearm.

One of the paramedics saw the crimson pool spreading beneath me and lunged forward to assist. But Jason grabbed the mans arm, physically redirecting him to Cynthia.

"Take care of Cynthia first," Jason commanded, his voice cold and absolute.

I stared up at him through a haze of agony, my voice a ragged whisper. "Jason... how could you..."

Jason cut me off, his expression hardening into stone. "Don't look at me like that, Gwen. Years ago, when I was being hunted and bleeding out, you turned your back and ran. If Cynthia hadn't jumped into that river and saved my life, I'd be dead."

He looked down at me with a sickening mixture of resentment and pity. "This is just karma, Gwen. An eye for an eye."

Tears hot and bitter flooded my eyes, blurring his face.

All this time. Four years of marriage, and he believed Cynthia was his savior.

Weakly, my fingers fumbling over the screen of my phone, I dialed 911. And then, I sent a text to a number I had kept blocked for five long years:

Bring back the evidence of what happened at the river four years ago. Show him the truth.

A sharp, tearing pain ripped through my abdomen, and I could feel the warm, terrifying flow of fluid continuing to pool beneath me.

A few yards away, Cynthia was already being gently guided into the sleek private medical van, surrounded by a flurry of attentive doctors. A minor scratch on her arm, yet she received the royal treatment.

Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper, couldnt bear to watch any longer. With tear-filled eyes, she grabbed a soft throw blanket from the sofa, trying to slip it under my hips.

But one of Jasons security guards stepped forward, blocking her. "Don't make this harder than it has to be," he warned coldly. "You know how Mr. Hale gets."

Mrs. Gable sobbed, her voice cracking. "But Gwen is seven months pregnant! Shes bleeding out! Shes going to die!"

The guard barely glanced at the blood on the hardwood floor.

"Miss Gwen, you hurt Miss Cynthia. Mr. Hale is furious right now. I suggest you stop making a scene and wait quietly until we get Miss Cynthias test results back."

I closed my eyes, swallowing the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat.

This was the same man who once panicked and called a private surgeon in the middle of the night because I had nicked my finger while chopping vegetables. Now, he was perfectly content to let me bleed out on the floor.

Finally, the wail of a city ambulance echoed down the driveway.

The paramedics burst through the front door carrying their trauma kits. When the lead paramedic saw the sheer volume of blood on the floor, his face went pale.

But as a nurse rushed toward me, the guard stepped in front of the gurney, physically blocking her path.

"I'm sorry," the guard said smoothly. "No one leaves with her without Mr. Hale's direct authorization."

"Are you out of your mind?" the paramedic roared, slamming his stethoscope down onto the gurney. "This is an obstetric emergency! If she or the baby dies, are you going to take the fall for manslaughter?"

The guard didn't even blink. "The Hale family handles their own affairs. But right now, she stays here."

Grunting in frustration, the paramedic shoved past the guard, kneeling beside me.

"Ignore them," he snapped to his partner. "Check her vitals, get an IV started, we need to stop the hemorrhaging now."

Under the relentless pressure of the paramedics, they finally loaded me onto the gurney and wheeled me out to the ambulance.

Inside the rig, the paramedic applied firm pressure to my abdomen to staunch the bleeding while hooking up monitors that beeped frantically.

The pain was an agonizing wave that made me shudder violently. I bit my lip until it bled, forcing myself to reach out and grab the sleeve of the paramedic's shirt.

"Please," I sobbed, my voice trembling with raw panic. "Please save my baby. Do whatever it takes... just save my baby."

He squeezed my hand, his voice tight with urgency. "We're doing everything we can, sweetie. But you've lost a lot of blood. Where's your husband? We need a primary contact for emergency consent."

I stared up at the flickering fluorescent lights of the ambulance ceiling as my vision began to fade around the edges.

Years ago, I had braved the freezing currents of the river to drag Jason out of the jaws of death. Now, I was carrying his flesh and blood, and he was the one leaving me to die.

Slowly, my fingers slipped from the paramedic's sleeve. "I'll sign it myself."

The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the emergency bay. But before they could even wheel me into the trauma room, Cynthia's whimpering voice echoed from the far end of the corridor.

"Jason, I'm so scared... My head is spinning so fast..."

Then came Jasons familiar, deep voice, carrying that cold, commanding weight.

"Get the chief of obstetrics over to Cynthia's room immediately. Gwen's situation can wait."

Through the half-open door of the trauma room, every single word sliced through me like a razor.

The emergency room physician was staring at my charts, sweat dripping from his brow.

"The patient is showing severe signs of threatened miscarriage, and the bleeding isn't stopping. We need an OB-GYN consult on the double!"

The nurse spoke into her radio, but when she got the reply, her face drained of color.

"Dr. Jenkins, the on-call specialists, Dr. Harris and Dr. Cooper, have both been paged to the VIP wing."

"What?" the doctor shouted. "Why? Is there a patient over there in worse condition than a hemorrhaging pregnant woman?"

The nurse lowered her eyes, helpless. "It was a direct order from Mr. Hale. He said the young lady in the VIP suite is experiencing dizziness and abdominal discomfort, and he wants a full panel of specialists to check her over."

Outside, Cynthia's delicate, soft voice drifted in.

"Jason, really, it's fine. It's probably just a lingering symptom from when I jumped into the river to save you all those years ago. A little rest is all I need. Don't cause a scene for my sake."

Hearing that, Jason's tone softened with intense devotion.

"You ruined your health saving my life, Cynthia. I will never let anything happen to you again."

Listening to his tender, protective words, the last ember of warmth in my heart died.

Unable to stand it any longer, the ER doctor stormed out of the trauma room.

"Mr. Hale! Gwen is heavily pregnant and actively hemorrhaging! This is life-or-death, we cannot afford to wait!"

Jason didnt even deign to look toward my room. He merely offered the doctor a cold, indifferent profile.

"Shes the one who initiated the violence. If she had enough strength to push Cynthia down the stairs, shes strong enough to survive a wait. Let her wait."

Risking the wrath of the powerful Hale family, the ER doctor turned back and performed an emergency procedure to stabilize the bleeding.

I bit down hard on the edge of the hospital bedsheet, refusing to let a single sob slip past my lips.

It felt like hours before the doctor finally let out a long, ragged breath.

"The baby is stable for now, but it's incredibly touch-and-go. You need absolute bedrest in a high-dependency maternal care room immediately."

When I drifted back into consciousness, the nurse's whisper that the baby was still breathing made tears spill silently down my temples.

Gently, my trembling fingers traced the high curve of my stomach. Don't be afraid, sweetie. Mommy's here.

The heavy door clicked open. Jason walked in, followed by Cynthia. Her cheeks were flushed with healthy color, though she took pains to lean heavily against his side, feigning fragility.

The moment Cynthia saw the spacious, sunlit maternal suite I had been assigned to, she shrank back into Jasons chest.

"Oh, Jason... it's fine. I can just take a standard room. Gwen is pregnant, and her baby is so much more important than my health. I don't mind a little discomfort."

Jason fell silent for a beat. His cold gaze swept over my pale, hollow face. He turned to the attending physician who had followed them in, his voice cutting and absolute.

"Transfer Gwen to a standard ward. Cynthia takes this suite."

The doctors jaw dropped in disbelief. He shook his head frantically. "Mr. Hale, absolutely not! Gwen's pregnancy is extremely unstable. Moving her right now is a massive risk."

Jasons brow furrowed with irritation. "I said transfer her. If anything happens, Ill take responsibility."

I stared at this man. The man I had loved fiercely for four years. He had once sworn that I was his most precious treasure, promising that he would never let a single tear of sorrow fall from my eyes. Now, to appease a liar, he was willing to endanger not just my life, but the life of our unborn child.

Before I could speak, Cynthia staggered slightly. Her hand swung backward, catching on my IV line and ripping it completely out of my vein.

The needle tore through my flesh, and blood began to bubble and spill over the back of my hand.

Seeing the bright splash of crimson, Jasons hand instinctively twitched toward me. But Cynthia let out a sharp cry of pain, clutching her chest. Jason froze, instantly retracting his hand, and hurried to guide Cynthia onto the room's sofa.

Within the hour, I was wheeled down to a cramped, drafty standard ward on the lower floors.

Late that night, the door to my room creaked open. A nurse quietly slipped inside, placing a bottle of high-end prenatal vitamins and a plush, soft cashmere blanket at the foot of my bed.

I stared at the luxury items, refusing to touch them. "Who sent these?"

The nurse avoided my gaze, shifting on her feet. "It was sent down from the administrative office, Miss Gwen. Please don't ask. Just get some rest."

I closed my eyes and buried my face in the stiff hospital pillow.

A slap in the face followed by a sweet treatit was his favorite cycle. But I was done. I didn't want his scraps anymore.

The ward was noisy, filled with the groans of other patients and the constant hum of machinery. I barely slept a wink, a dull, heavy ache throbbing continuously in my lower abdomen.

Just as I reached to press the call button, the door was thrown open. Cynthia walked in, draped in Jasons oversized designer suit jacket. She moved with a slow, deliberate ease.

Gone was the fragile, trembling victim she played in front of him. She turned around and locked the door behind her with a soft click.

Stepping up to my bedside, she looked down at me, a cruel, mocking smile spreading across her lips.

"Well, Gwen, I have to hand it to youyoure tough. Even after a tumble down the stairs and a night in this dump, that little parasite is still hanging on."

My heart went cold, and my hands instinctively flew to cover my belly. "Get out."

Instead of leaving, Cynthia leaned in closer, her voice a poisonous whisper.

"Do you really think bearing a Hale heir is going to make him love you again? Keep dreaming. In Jason's eyes, your life and that unborn brat's life combined aren't worth a single hair on my head."

I reached blindly behind me for the call button, desperate to summon security to drag her out. But Cynthia was faster. With a swift yank, she ripped the cord out of the wall outlet.

Then, she reached for my IV drip, spinning the dial to the maximum rate.

The cold, concentrated medication flooded into my vein. Sensing the danger, I lunged forward to stop her.

Cynthia slapped my hand away. "Whats the rush? I just want to see how much this baby can actually take."

I struggled to sit up, desperate to claw back the IV line, but a violent spasm of pain seized my abdomen. The color drained from my face, and cold sweat instantly drenched my thin hospital gown.

Cynthias eyes drifted to my pillow, where a hand-carved sandalwood amulet lay. It was a protective medallion Jason had hand-carved for me himself, engraved with our intertwined initials.

Jason was a staunch rationalist; he had never believed in gods or superstitions. Yet, during our early days, he had climbed the steps of a remote, sacred mountaintop temple just to secure this blessed piece of wood for my safety. He had stayed up for three consecutive nights, meticulously carving it with bleeding fingers.

Cynthia picked up the amulet, tracing the rough engravings. A flash of pure envy crossed her face.

"My, my. He really did adore you once, didn't he? How touching. Too bad he only listens to me now. Keeping this around is just pathetic."

I didn't care about the amulet; I only cared about saving my child. Summoning every ounce of strength left in my broken body, I shoved her away.

Caught off guard, she stumbled backward. The sandalwood amulet slipped from her grip and shattered against the linoleum floor.

Just then, the heavy, familiar sound of Jasons footsteps echoed in the hallway. Before I could process what she was doing, Cynthia snatched up a jagged wooden shard and sliced it deep into her own forearm.

"Gwen, please! I only came to ask you not to use the baby to blackmail Jason! Why are you doing this to me?" she wailed, her voice rising to a shrill pitch.

The door burst open. Jason stepped in to see Cynthia on the floor, blood dripping from her arm, surrounded by the splintered remains of the keepsake. She was sobbing hysterically.

"Jason... I'm okay. Please, don't be mad at Gwen. She... she said this baby is her ultimate leverage. She said shed rather let the baby die than let me have you."

Jason turned his gaze to me, his eyes dark with absolute disgust. "Gwen. Are you so utterly sick that youd use your own child as a pawn to win me back?"

The pain was blinding now, the contractions rolling over me in rapid, agonizing waves. I clutched the thin bedsheets until my knuckles turned white.

"She... she messed with my IV... She cut herself," I gasped out.

Cynthia shrank back, trembling like a leaf as her tears redoubled. "I didn't! I only came to check on her! But she accused me of stealing her husband... she pushed me and threw the amulet at me!"

Jason didnt even wait for me to finish. He marched over to the bed, slamming his hands down on either side of my shoulders, looming over me.

"How much lower are you going to sink, Gwen? Apologize to Cynthia. Now."

I forced my eyes open, staring straight into his cold, familiar face. "Apologize? For what?"

His jaw tightened, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "You hurt her. You will apologize."

Cynthia reached up, plucking weakly at the hem of his trousers. "Jason, let it go. Don't force her. I'm... I'm so worried about her stress levels affecting the baby."

Jason's face darkened further. He pulled out his phone and made a brief call. Within minutes, two of his towering security guards stood in the doorway.

"Get her out of bed," Jason ordered coldly. "Make her apologize to Miss Cynthia."

The attending physician rushed in, hearing the commotion, and tried to block them. "Mr. Hale, stop! Gwen cannot be moved! She is in active, severe premature labor! Any more stress and we will lose the baby!"

Jason didn't even look at him. "She seemed to have plenty of strength when she was throwing things at Cynthia."

The guards stepped forward, hauling me out of the bed. My legs gave out instantly under the weight of the agony. As I fell, my body pitched forward, heading straight toward the sharp metal corner of the bedside table.

Jasons eyes widened in sudden panic. In a rare flash of instinct, he lunged forward, throwing his own hand between my pregnant belly and the sharp metal edge.

Seeing this, one of the young nurses in the back couldn't stay silent. "Mr. Hale! Look at the IV! Someone maxed out her medication drip. This dosage is lethal for a fetus!"

Cynthias face went pale. Sensing she was losing control of the room, she immediately cried out, clutching her arm. "Jason! I'm so dizzy... I think I've lost too much blood..."

Jasons gaze snapped back to Cynthia. He hesitated for only a second before sweeping her into his arms.

"Take care of Cynthia first," he commanded, carrying her toward the door. "Gwen can wait until she's ready to apologize."

I didn't say another word. I lay on the floor, the sharp fragments of the shattered sandalwood amulet biting into the palm of my hand, drawing blood.

Inside my pocket, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Adrian: The evidence is fully restored. I'll be there in twenty minutes.

Cynthia was rushed to the VIP wing. Half an hour later, the chief of internal medicine came out, holding a thick folder.

"Mr. Hale, as you know, Miss Cynthia suffered a severe chronic pulmonary infection after her freezing rescue years ago. This recent blood loss has triggered acute respiratory distress. Shes in critical condition. We need to perform an emergency procedure using stem cellsspecifically, compatible umbilical cord bloodto stabilize her."

Cynthia was wheeled back past my room, an oxygen mask strapped over her face, weeping softly between shallow breaths.

"Jason... I don't want to make things hard for Gwen. I don't want to hurt her baby... But if I don't get this treatment... I don't think I'll survive. I can't bear the thought of leaving you."

Hearing the words saving your life, Jasons face hardened into a mask of grim determination. He strode into my ward and slammed a document onto my bedside table: a consent form for forced labor induction.

I stared at the bold letters at the top, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. He was going to force me into early laborat seven monthsjust to harvest the umbilical cord blood for Cynthia.

I snatched the paper and tore it into shreds, throwing the pieces in his face as I shielded my stomach. "Jason, she is your daughter! Your own flesh and blood!"

Jason's eyes were bloodshot, his voice cracking with a desperate, twisted conviction. "Cynthia gave me my life, Gwen. I owe her a life..."

I looked at this monstrous, delusional man. Reaching blindly for a pair of medical scissors on the side tray, I pressed the sharp point directly against my carotid artery. "If you let anyone touch my baby, I will plunge this into my neck. You will get two corpses, Jason. Two!"

Jasons pupils shrunk. He lunged forward, grabbing my wrist. "Gwen! Are you out of your mind? Put the scissors down! When you ran away and left me to die by that river, did you ever stop to think about my life?"

Looking at his furious, self-righteous face, the tears finally spilled over, but I couldn't stop the cold, hysterical laughter bubbling up from my chest.

"Jason... when you opened your eyes on that muddy riverbank four years ago, you held my hand exactly like this. You wouldn't let go."

The words made him freeze for a split second, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes. But he quickly shook it off. "Cynthia saved me, Gwen. Stop trying to steal her place."

He turned his back to me, his voice flat. "Prepare her for surgery. If she resists, sedate her."

The guards stepped forward, pinning my shoulders down. I thrashed wildly, screaming, but my exhausted body was no match for their brute force.

Just as they began to drag me toward the operating room, the double doors of the ward were violently kicked open.

The thunderous bang echoed through the ward, freezing everyone in their tracks.

Adrian stood in the doorway, his dark trench coat damp from the rain, flanked by a dozen burly security guards of his own. He strode in with a terrifying calm, lifting a heavy manila envelope and hurling it straight at Jasons face.

"Jason Hale," Adrian said, his voice dripping with pure venom. "Do you honestly believe Cynthia was the one who pulled you out of that river?"