The Billionaire Used Me as an Incubator

My fianc forced me through painful fertility treatments to bear him eight children, all for his first love who could never conceive.

At the banquet for my eighth pregnancy, Ken stroked my belly, smiling. The doctors say Sally needs a big family to cure her depression, he murmured. Deliver this last one, Sylvia, and Ill give you the grand wedding you deserve.

His friends laughed and placed bets on how much I would ask for this child. Every previous pregnancy, I demanded half a million dollars. This time, I pushed his hand away.

Keep your wedding, Ken. We are done.

He gripped my chin, eyes full of mockery. You sell your body for cash, so stop pretending. Is the price too low?

Stacks of bills hit my face, the edges cutting my skin. Everyone expected me to crawl for the money. Instead, I took off his ring and dropped it.

He did not know my mother had lost her battle with cancer last night. I no longer needed his money or to be the mother for his precious Sally.

"Looks like Ken didn't write a big enough check, and now his girl is pulling a stunt," someone snickered from the crowd.

"Half a mil for the final brat isn't enough? What, she wants a cool million now?"

"Never seen a woman so utterly greedy. Only Ken would put up with her."

The sarcastic whispers buzzed in my ears like poisonous flies.

Kens brow furrowed tightly. He grabbed another heavy brick of cash and threw it hard against my chest.

"Throwing a tantrum again? Take this. A million in total. Is that enough to shut you up?"

His freezing tone dragged me violently back to a rainy afternoon eight years ago.

That was the day I first found out Ken was giving our baby to Sally. I had a complete mental breakdown, smashing every piece of glass in our penthouse. I even stood outside Sallys corporate headquarters with a megaphone, screaming that she was a homewrecker stealing my child.

In the end, Ken dragged me away and locked me in a private psychiatric facility.

"Think about your dying mother in that hospital bed, Sylvia," he had whispered coldly before walking out. "Stop throwing these childish fits."

He used to love me so deeply. When my mom first got sick, he canceled a multi-billion dollar international merger, took his private jet back overnight, and personally vetted every specialist in the state for her.

But the very man who once promised to shield me from the world ended up using my mothers life as a weapon against me.

Seeing me stand completely still, he assumed I was holding out for more. A sneer twisted his handsome face.

"I gave you too much credit, Sylvia. At the end of the day, youre just a woman who put a price tag on seven of her own flesh and blood."

"Fine," he sighed, adjusting his expensive cuffs. "Ill tell the doctors to resume your mothers experimental targeted therapy."

"You refused to apologize to Sally last week. I couldn't bear to punish you, so I had to let your mother take the fall."

My entire body went rigid. The blood drained from my face. I stared at him, utterly horrified, as hot tears spilled down my cheeks.

"Just because I wouldn't get on my knees and beg Sally for forgiveness, you secretly cut off my moms life-saving medication?"

"Do you even know she passed away last night?" My voice violently shook, escalating into a broken scream.

A brief flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but it vanished in a split second, replaced by a cruel smirk.

"Theres no need to use your mother to emotionally blackmail me, Sylvia. I visited her yesterday. She was perfectly fine."

"She even asked when we were getting married. I told her the wedding is on, right after you pop out this final baby."

A laugh clawed its way out of my throat, but it sounded worse than a sob.

When the hospital called with the news, I couldn't even make it in time to see her take her last breath.

Her greatest regret was watching me waste eight years of my youth on Ken Sinclair, living as his dirty little secret without a ring or a marriage certificate.

She died without ever seeing her daughter walk down the aisle.

My eyes were bloodshot. The pure devastation radiating from me must have been too heavy to ignore. Kens expression softened, a flash of guilt finally breaking through his arrogant facade. He reached out, wanting to pull me into his arms.

But Sally stepped delicately between us.

"Sylvia, I know you hate me," she said, her voice dripping with practiced fragility. "But you really shouldn't lie about your poor mother dying just to get pity."

"Ken loves you so much. Why do you have to invent such cruel lies to break his heart?"

The crowd erupted in sneers. The socialites began whispering, claiming the apple didn't fall far from the tree. They mocked how my father had abandoned my mother, saying we were both pathetic women who used victimhood to trap men.

The laughter made my skin crawl. It felt like needles piercing my lungs with every breath I took.

Right then, the five-year-old boy in Sallys arms raised his cup of fruit punch and hurled the red liquid directly at my white dress.

"Wicked witch! You always make Daddy and Mommy Sally sad! Why don't you just die!"

This was the child I had carried for nine agonizing months.

The ballroom fell dead silent for a heartbeat before erupting into roaring laughter.

"Even her own biological son hates her guts. She really hit rock bottom."

"Thats karma for selling your kids to the highest bidder."

"A toxic woman left with nothing. Poetic justice."

The boy squirmed out of Sally's arms, glaring at me. "You sold my brothers for money! Get out of here! I only want Mommy Sally!"

My heart was brutally squeezed.

How could a child so young speak words so venomous?

Tears completely blurred my vision.

Years ago, desperate to scrape together the astronomical fees for my mothers surgeries, I signed a contract with Ken.

Voluntarily carry the children. Hand them over to Sallys custody. Receive half a million dollars per child.

Ever since then, my oldest son, who was now seven, threw things at me whenever I visited.

"Wicked witch! You didn't want us! Stop acting like you care!"

Even the youngest ones were carefully groomed by Sally to spit on my shoes and call me a monster.

And Kens response was always a dismissive sigh.

"Theyre just kids, Sylvia. Don't be so sensitive."

My hands shook violently as I pulled out a tissue, trying to wipe the sticky red juice off my dress.

But the moment I moved, Ken instantly stepped in front of Sally and the boy, shielding them as if I were an armed threat.

"Lets get one thing straight, Sylvia," he warned, his voice laced with venom. "Sally is gentle and kind. She would never teach a child to say those things. This is a result of your own toxic nature. Do not take your misplaced anger out on my son."

He looked at me like I was a feral dog.

Watching my fianc fiercely protect another woman and the children I birthed broke something fundamental inside me. The agony lodged in my throat, choking the air out of my lungs.

I couldn't stomach the sight of them for another second. I turned on my heel and walked out of the banquet hall.

The mocking voices followed me out the door.

"Doesn't even care about her own kids. What trash."

"Shes just putting on a show. Shell come crawling back when its time to cash in on the new baby."

I tightly clutched my slightly swollen stomach, feeling the faint, fragile fluttering inside.

I promised this baby, right then and there. I will never leave you behind.

Not long after leaving the hotel, I opened my phone and saw Sallys latest post.

It was a picture of her holding the boy, her other arm linked intimately with my fianc. They looked like the perfect, happy family.

From the very beginning, I was nothing but an incubator. An outsider.

The tears I had been holding back crashed down like a heavy storm.

I booked a flight for the next morning. I was going to pack my bags and disappear from their lives forever.

But the moment I pushed open the door to my bedroom, my blood ran cold.

The room was completely trashed. Drawers were pulled out, clothes shredded. My seven-year-old son, Oliver, stood in the center of the wreckage, staring at me with pure hatred.

"Wicked witch! You made Mommy Sally cry at the party! This is your punishment!"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the only surviving photograph I had of my mother and me. Right in front of my eyes, he ripped it into tiny pieces and let them flutter to the floor.

"You even lied about Grandma dying. Youre a liar! You should go die with her!"

Uncontrollable tremors wrecked my body. I bit down on my lower lip so hard that the metallic tang of blood flooded my mouth.

I remembered when Oliver was born. He was so sickly, so fragile. I stayed up for weeks nursing him, keeping him close to my chest.

When Ken forced me to give him up, Oliver was just old enough to understand. He had gripped the hem of my shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He cried, begging me not to leave. He had even run miles in the dark, stumbling from Sallys mansion all the way back to my small apartment.

Back then, I foolishly believed that the bond of blood could survive anything.

But it only took a few years for them to turn him into a stranger who hated the very ground I walked on.

"Haha! The wicked witch is crying! Serves you right for abandoning me!"

Oliver let out a cruel, triumphant laugh and reached for a glass vase on my vanity.

Something inside me snapped. I couldn't hold it back anymore. I stepped forward and slapped him hard across the cheek.

He froze in absolute shock. A second later, he let out an earsplitting wail. "The bad woman hit me!"

The emergency alert on his smartwatch beeped. Seconds later, the heavy oak doors crashed open, and Ken stormed in.

Without a word, he grabbed my shoulder and shoved me violently away. I lost my footing. My lower back slammed brutally against the sharp corner of the mahogany desk.

"Sylvia! You embarrass Sally at the party, and now you come home to abuse a child?"

"When exactly is this psychotic episode of yours going to end?"

His eyes darted to the shredded photograph on the carpet. A flicker of hesitation crossed his features, but his tone remained sharp.

"Its just a piece of paper. We can print another one. No matter how angry you get, you do not lay your hands on my son."

Sally rushed into the room right behind him, sweeping the crying boy into her arms. She looked up at me with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"Sylvia, I know you resent handing the kids over to me."

"But the children are innocent. You shouldn't take your bitterness out on them."

"If you hate it so much, Ill just give them back to you."

The five-year-old hiding behind Sallys leg and the seven-year-old in her arms shouted in unison.

"We don't want the wicked witch! She only pretends to be sad! Shes mean to us!"

I swallowed the bitter ash in my throat and let out a broken, hollow laugh.

These were the children I had bled for. The children I spent years desperately trying to hold onto.

I blinked away the last of my tears. My heart was utterly, irreversibly dead.

Suddenly, Oliver pointed a trembling finger at my legs, screaming in horror.

"The wicked witch is bleeding!"

I looked down. A sickening wet heat soaked through my dress. Thick, bright red blood was trailing rapidly down my thighs, pooling on the floor.

A tearing, agonizing pain ripped through my abdomen. My knees buckled. I looked up at Ken, completely breaking down.

"My stomach. It hurts so much. Please. Take me to the hospital!"

His face paled. He instinctively reached out to scoop me into his arms.

But Sally instantly threw herself in front of his chest, her voice trembling, fragile, and terrified.

"Shes just trying to scare us with fake blood because we yelled at her."

"You know I have severe trauma regarding the sight of blood, Sylvia. Why would you trigger me on purpose?"

She clutched her head, her knees giving out as she swooned into Kens chest.

Kens grip on me vanished. I collapsed heavily onto the hard floor. He wrapped his arms tightly around Sally, barking orders at the staff in the hallway.

"Get the car! Were taking Sally to the ER right now!"

My vision darkened at the edges. I dragged myself toward his tailored shoes, my voice a ragged, desperate rasp.

"Ken. Im not faking. It hurts. The baby. Please..."

He glared down at me, his eyes devoid of any warmth.

"I know you have a vendetta against Sally. I already promised you Id marry you after this baby is born. Why do you have to stoop to such disgusting tactics to terrorize her?"

"You used to be so kind. When did you turn into such a monster?"

He snatched my phone from my trembling hand and walked out the door. The sound of the deadbolt locking clicked ominously in the silent room.

His final words drifted through the heavy wood.

"Im giving you twenty-four hours to lock yourself in there and reflect on your behavior."

"Don't force me to get rough with you, Sylvia. You know Ive always hated hurting you."

I bit entirely through my lower lip. The taste of copper flooded my tongue.

The blood beneath me spread wider, a dark crimson puddle. Using every last ounce of my fading strength, I dragged myself to the door and pounded on it.

Eventually, the darkness swallowed me whole, and I slumped lifelessly against the wood.

Right before my consciousness faded completely, I heard the muffled, panicked screams of the estate butler from the hallway.

When I finally forced my heavy eyelids open, I was staring at a sterile white ceiling. The smell of hospital antiseptic burned my nose. Ken was sitting at my bedside.

Seeing me wake, a look of genuine heartache washed over his face. He scooped up a spoonful of white porridge, blew on it softly, and offered it to my lips.

It took a long time before he finally spoke.

"Sylvia. Im sorry. I just checked with the doctors. I didn't know your mother passed away."

"Ive already arranged for a massive, dignified funeral. The best money can buy."

His voice was thick with guilt.

I remembered when we first started dating. He had knelt beside my mothers cramped hospital bed and sworn on his life that he would protect me from the world.

He didn't just break that promise. He was the one who killed her.

Just a second of recalling that memory sent a fresh wave of silent tears down my cheeks.

"This porridge is from that little bistro downtown you love. Eat something. Warm up your body."

I kept my mouth shut. I just stared at him with cold, dead eyes.

Waking up in this hospital bed finally gave me absolute clarity.

I was never going to swallow his toxic scraps of affection ever again.

My hand instinctively moved down to my stomach. It was completely flat.

My heart flatlined. Boiling tears slipped past my lashes as a ragged sob tore from my throat.

"Ken... where is my baby?"

"The baby is gone."

Those four casual words shattered whatever was left of my soul. I threw my head back and let out a guttural, agonizing scream, sobbing uncontrollably.

Seeing my hysteria, he pulled a tissue and impatiently dabbed at my wet face. His tone was irritatingly calm.

"Alright, enough. The kid is gone, but your health is what matters. As long as youre okay, were fine."

He pushed the spoon against my lips again. I violently smacked his hand away. The ceramic bowl shattered, splashing hot porridge all over his expensive suit.

"I gave you eight of my children, Ken Sinclair! What more do you want from me?"

"Get out! I never want to see your face again as long as I live!"

After my mother died, this unborn child was the only anchor keeping me tethered to this earth.

Now, my very last sliver of hope was butchered.

Watching my absolute meltdown, Kens brow knitted together in deep annoyance.

"Its just one lost pregnancy. We can easily have another one. Is there really a need to act like a lunatic?"

"Your mother is dead. Youre a woman who has been pregnant eight times. If you leave me, who else is going to want you?"

He reached out to touch my shoulder. I used every drop of strength in my battered body to shove him away.

"I will never marry you!"

The air in the room turned to ice. Kens eyes flared red. He raised his hand and slapped me brutally across the face.

"We have been together for eight years, Sylvia! You think you can just walk away?"

"If you dare leave this hospital, you will refund every single penny I ever spent on you!"

He roughly grabbed the jade pendant resting on my collarbone and violently yanked.

The chain snapped. This necklace was my mothers only heirloom. Years ago, I pawned it to pay for her chemo. Ken found out, bought it back, and fastened it around my neck himself.

He had held me so tenderly that night.

"Don't carry the weight of the world on your own, Sylvia. Learn to lean on me."

The jade shattered into jagged green pieces across the linoleum floor.

I sat frozen on the hospital bed, staring blindly at the wreckage.

Seeing the fight completely leave my body, his tone softened slightly, though the arrogant command remained.

"I told you yesterday to reflect on your actions."

"If youre dead set on leaving, I will have your mothers casket dug up from the cemetery and tossed into a mass grave."

"You owe me your life. And you will pay me back."

My soul had already turned to ash. His threats meant absolutely nothing to me anymore. I gave a slow, mechanical nod.

Seeing my submission, he coldly delivered his final orders.

"Your little stunt yesterday triggered Sallys PTSD. Her condition has worsened."

"Her therapist said she needs a public gesture of security. The wedding is tomorrow. You will attend, and you will stand at the altar and tell the press that you voluntarily surrendered the children to her."

"Once you do that, well go get our marriage license next month."

I gave another mechanical nod.

Satisfied with my absolute defeat, he adjusted his ruined suit.

"Don't overthink this. Ill compensate you tenfold."

"Sally and I are just putting on a show for the media. Once this is over, the whole world will know you are the real Mrs. Sinclair."

He didn't know I had already lost the will to breathe.

The flight ticket on my phone had expired.

And I no longer needed to run away.

After he left, I stared at the chat history with my mom for a long, long time.

I typed out one final message. [Mom. Im coming to keep you company.]

Dragging my hollow, bleeding body out of the sheets, I stumbled step by step toward the hospital window on the tenth floor. I pushed it open and closed my eyes against the biting wind.

I opened Kens contact and sent one last text.

[Ken Sinclair. Meeting you was the biggest regret of my life.]