The Quadfather Conspiracy

1
For three years of marriage, we’d longed for a child. After a year of grueling IVF treatments, my wife and I finally succeeded, expecting quadruplets. Her pregnancy had been a brutal journey, months of relentless morning sickness, her belly swelling round as a pumpkin. Doctors had suggested a reduction surgery, but she’d refused, her voice firm.
“Caleb,” she’d said, her eyes pleading, “these are all our babies. I couldn’t bear to lose a single one.” Seeing her gaunt face, my heart had ached, and I’d silently sworn to protect her and our children for the rest of my life.
Six months into her pregnancy, Sarah had started a betting pool with her friends, wagering on the babies’ genders. The final tally had been three boys and one girl, and she’d won the bet, raking in ten million dollars. It was shortly after, by pure accident, that I overheard Sarah Bellwether talking to her friends.
“Sarah, your plan was brilliant, truly. Getting Caleb to raise four babies for four different men, all at once.”
Sarah’s voice had been cool, dismissive. “Since I couldn’t give them the Bellwether name, I could at least give them a child. Caleb took his place, so this is simply what he owes.”
My entire body had gone rigid, every hair on my arms standing on end. It hit me then—not a single one of the four babies in my wife’s womb was mine.
“Sarah, you’re just incredible. You dealt with the problem of four children in one go.” Liz chimed in, her voice dripping with admiration. “Isn’t that the truth? And every single one of those fathers is handsome as hell. Their kids are bound to be stunning.” She sighed. “It’s a real shame about Jack. He was the school’s heartthrob back then, who’d have thought he’d get that awful disease and die so young? Good thing Sarah’s got such a kind heart, she saved a piece of him. Just waiting for the baby to be born now.”
“Mark’s been obsessed with Sarah for almost twenty years, totally devoted, and never got what he wanted. He just wanted a baby with her, no matter what.”
Another voice cut in. “Too bad Sarah’s heart only beats for Ryan. That’s why she came up with this IVF plan. That way, it’s not really cheating on Ryan, and everyone gets a kid.”
“Wonder how Caleb will react when he finds out? All four babies in Sarah’s belly aren’t his. He’s probably going to lose it, right?”
Sarah’s voice was cool, distant. “What can he do if he finds out? He has no one to blame but himself for taking a place he didn’t deserve.”
Their laughter, sharp and ugly, filled the air, laced with undisguised malice and mockery. I stood frozen behind the door, a cold dread seeping from my feet and crawling straight up to the crown of my head. What… what did it all mean? The babies in my wife’s womb… they weren’t mine?
For months, she’d struggled through this pregnancy. Every night, I’d pressed my ear to her belly, whispering to our children. Her legs had swollen, making it hard to walk, so I’d spent an hour massaging them daily. Her morning sickness had been relentless, her appetite gone, so I’d cooked and stewed, trying endless recipes just to get her to eat. My heart had ached for her hardship, and I’d cared for her day and night, even quitting my job. And now, I was being told that the children she carried had no blood ties to me?
The voices from the living room continued their cruel discussion, but I couldn’t hear a thing past the roaring in my ears. Jack, they’d mentioned… I remembered him. He’d been in the same high school, Sarah’s first love, I think. I’d even felt a pang of sadness recently when I heard he’d died from a terrible illness.

2
I never imagined. He was gone, dead, and yet my wife carried his child in her womb. It was an absurdity beyond belief, a nameless horror that made my entire back prickle with dread. It took every ounce of my strength to hold myself back, to keep from bursting out of that door. From the living room, the betting pool continued, their voices rising and falling. Sarah’s laugh, every now and then, sent shivers through me. Four years of marriage, and I hadn’t known the woman sleeping beside me at all.
I looked at my wife’s impossibly swollen belly, stretched taut, as if it might burst at any moment. Inside, four babies. One was Jack’s. One was Mark’s. Who were the other two? Mark, I knew too. He and Sarah were childhood friends, he’d adored her for years, a desperate, unrequited love. So, Sarah was truly “kind”—if she couldn’t give her heart, she’d give a child as compensation.
A laugh tore from my throat, a sound more ragged than a sob. If Sarah wanted to give them children, why did she have to make me the “father”? What was even more grotesque was that not a single one of those four children was mine. How could she be so cruel? My fists clenched, my teeth digging into my lip until I tasted blood. I had believed Sarah’s willingness to endure the hardships of pregnancy was a testament to her love for me. Now I knew. It was all a lie. All a brutal, empty lie.
Outside, the raucous chatter continued, a vibrant cacophony of voices.
“I’m betting two boys, two girls.”
“I’m putting my money on all four being boys.”
Then, a clear, resonant male voice cut through the noise. “Why does everyone prefer boys? I think girls are wonderful. I’ll bet on three girls and one boy.” He turned, asking, “Sarah, do you prefer boys or girls?” The voice was familiar, Sarah’s personal assistant, I realized.
Sarah’s tone was indifferent. “Boys or girls, I like them both. Boys are a bit better, though. Girls are just too delicate.”
Liz pressed her. “So, Sarah, what’s your bet?”
“Since Ryan likes girls, I’ll bet on three boys and one girl.”
Ryan? It was him.
A bitter, broken laugh escaped me. They had been carrying on, right under my nose, and I hadn’t even known. I didn’t know if they were simply brilliant actors, or if I had been utterly, tragically blind.
Ryan’s voice floated back. “Girls should be raised delicately, it’s true.” Sarah chuckled, taking his hand. “You’re more delicate than a girl, Ryan. You burn your hand cooking, and you tear up.”
“But… it really hurt, you know?” Ryan replied, then paused, a thought striking him. “Oh, right, Caleb never seems to cry. Last time, when he fell down the stairs protecting you, he broke his leg and didn’t even shed a tear. Has he really never cried, not once?”
Sarah’s tone was casual, dismissive. “Caleb’s tough as nails, of course he doesn’t feel pain. He’s never cried, it’s true. Not like you, you scrape your knee and start tearing up.”
Liz chimed in, sucking up. “That’s because Ryan has Sarah to comfort him. You can be vulnerable when someone cares. If no one cares, you just have to tough it out, like Caleb.”
“Yeah, isn’t that why Sarah felt so bad for Ryan, dealing with the stress of raising a baby and losing sleep, that she cooked up this whole plan to make Caleb think they were his kids, so he’d be the unsuspecting dad?”
“Caleb looks like he’s aged ten years already. Geez, when Sarah finally pops out those quadruplets, who knows what he’ll look like then.”
3
“She wouldn’t even look at him if he was naked and lying in bed, but now…” Their words grew crude, accompanied by vulgar laughter that made my stomach churn. I staggered back two steps, my face ashen. I was human too. How could I not feel pain? But I’d believed Sarah was carrying my children, that her pregnancy was a difficult journey for our sake. So even when she hit me, when she lashed out, I’d held it all in, never uttering a sound, no matter how much it hurt. All that endurance, all that silent suffering, only earned me a dismissive jab about being “tough as nails.”
I could still recall the day the IVF was successful, the worry etched on my face as I gripped her hand. “You’ve suffered so much for our children, Sarah.” I would spoon-feed her, bite by painstaking bite, when morning sickness left her unable to eat. “Behave, little ones. Don’t torment your mother.”
Turns out, all my worry, all my care, had been for the wrong people. I was nothing but a tool to raise these children.
“I heard that during pregnancy, the desire gets even stronger, like a beast unleashed, more so than when not pregnant. Sarah, is that true?” Ryan turned to Sarah, a shy grin on his face. “It’s true. Sarah’s practically drained me dry.”
“Well, that’s just because Sarah likes you, Ryan. See, even when she’s so uncomfortable, she still won’t touch Caleb, will she?”
“Hahaha, exactly. You don’t know how good you have it.”
I clamped my jaw, forcing down the surge of nausea. I closed my eyes, wiping away the tears that streamed down my face. Sarah Bellwether, this time, I’m the one who’s done with you. And the babies in your belly? I won’t raise them either.
By the time I stepped out, Liz and the others were gone. Only Sarah and Ryan remained in the living room. I deliberately made noise, giving them time to compose themselves. It wasn’t time to confront them yet.
Ryan’s face still held a faint, dazed flush, but he pretended to be professionally briefing Sarah on work matters. “Ms. Bellwether, there’s an urgent meeting tonight that requires your personal attendance. The car’s already waiting outside.” He turned to me, his expression perfectly amiable. “Mr. Thompson.” His gaze then dropped to my wife’s belly, a knowing, deeply significant smile playing on his lips. “Ms. Bellwether’s belly looks even bigger, Mr. Thompson. You’re truly blessed, for Ms. Bellwether to be carrying quadruplets.”
Looking at his hypocritical face, I couldn’t muster the energy to respond. Ryan, seeing my unresponsiveness, suggested he leave. But before stepping out the door, he turned back, casting another glance at Sarah. It was a secret signal, I realized, a silent, knowing look.
Sarah saw me emerge from the downstairs guest room and frowned slightly, her tone laced with a subtle probe. “When did you get back? Why didn’t you say anything?” I looked at the residual moisture on her lips, and my eyes stung with a sudden, sharp pain. It was so obvious, yet I had been blind, utterly blind, all this time. I gave a self-deprecating curl of my lips, lowering my gaze. “I was exhausted when I got back, so I just crashed in the guest room. Just woke up.”
Sarah seemed to relax, her face returning to normal. “Today’s prenatal checkup went smoothly. I was supposed to take you with me, but something came up at the office.”
“The doctor said all the babies are healthy.” Sarah recounted the details carefully, because in the past, I’d always wanted to know everything.

4
Fearing her suspicion, I walked over, reaching out to gently touch her belly, and spoke a few tender words to the babies inside. In the past, this would have been my happiest moment. Now, all I felt was my heart bleeding, drop by agonizing drop. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, just to maintain my composure. Yet, I couldn’t control the burning sting at the corners of my eyes. Sarah didn’t notice my distress; she didn’t care enough to.
“There’s an urgent meeting tonight. I might be back late.”
I forced a tight smile. “Okay.”
Sarah left. I slowly, carefully, climbed the stairs to the second floor. After she reached five months of pregnancy, I had moved to the guest room on the first floor, afraid of hurting the babies. I hadn’t been in our second-floor bedroom in ages. Pushing the door open, I saw the undeniable, intimate traces left on the bed. And on the wall behind it, our wedding photo still hung. The irony… a sharp, twisting pain in my chest, and tears streamed down my face.
But I forced my emotions down, wiped away the tears, and pulled out all my important documents. Before heading downstairs, I found myself, by some morbid impulse, walking to the window. I looked down. The car parked at the curb hadn’t left. It was shaking rhythmically, unmistakably. I watched, a perverse form of self-torture, my stomach churning, wanting to vomit, tears running down my face.
In the dead of night, Sarah returned. The scent of Ryan still clung to her. She reached out, placing my hand on her belly. I could even feel the lingering stickiness on her skin. But a moment later, she slowly began to move my hand upwards. The realization of what she intended sent a chilling wave through me, the echoes of her words echoing in my mind. A sudden, intense wave of disgust surged, and I abruptly sat up. She had just been with Ryan. His scent, his touch, was all over her. And now, she… Didn’t she find me repulsive? Didn’t she prefer to endure rather than be with me? I closed my eyes, feigning concern for her health, and Sarah withdrew her hand. I turned onto my side, my mind replaying countless memories, my chest aching. All night, I couldn’t make sense of it. But it didn't matter anymore.
First thing the next morning, I went to the hospital. When I returned home with the reports, I was utterly drained. I had made my decision. I would leave in three days. And in those three days, I would prepare everything. I would also deliver Sarah Bellwether a magnificent gift.
When Sarah returned home, I was in the nursery I’d prepared on the first floor. Everything in it, I had chosen myself. Four tiny cribs, four different colored baby bottles, rows of little shoes, socks, and baby clothes… The room was decorated so warmly, every detail a testament to my effort and overflowing expectation. I had once yearned for the arrival of the babies in her belly, believing them to be the culmination of Sarah’s and my love. But now, looking at it all, I felt as though a knife were carving bloody wounds into my heart. After a long moment, I stood, letting go of these children who were never truly mine.
“Caleb? Why are you crying?” Sarah entered, her brow furrowing as she saw my tear-streaked face. I wiped my face. “It’s nothing. Just… suddenly thinking about how I’ll see them in three months. I’m happy.”

5
Sarah didn’t doubt me. “I’m really looking forward to our babies being born too.” A moment later, she casually mentioned, “Liz says she’s throwing a yacht party the day after tomorrow. Do you want to go?”
“How many days will you be gone?”
“Three days.”
I looked at her, knowing she didn’t actually want me there. Perfect. I had my own plans. I forced a smile. “I won’t go. You’re pregnant, it’ll be too much. Just take care of yourself, and have fun with them.”
The next evening, Sarah and Liz, along with the others, boarded the yacht. Before she left, Sarah suddenly turned back, casting a look at me, as if sensing something. I stood rooted to the spot, my gaze calm as I watched her walk away. Many people went on the trip. I saw photos and updates shared in their group chats and on social media. That night, someone posted a video in the chat. They had started another betting pool. This time, they were betting on whose baby would be born first.
“I’m betting ten million. I bet Jack’s baby comes first. He was the school heartthrob, after all.”
“Then I’ll bet ten million on Mark’s.”
“I’m betting fifty million. It’s my baby.” The speaker then turned to someone beside him. “Sis, I’m not letting you win this time. Your and Ryan’s baby can be younger siblings to mine.” The lighting in the video was dim, figures indistinct, but I recognized him instantly. I stared at him, a metallic taste of rust filling my mouth.
Sam. Sarah Bellwether’s cousin. The fourth child was his. After we married, Sam had given me no end of trouble. We barely tolerated each other. And now, Sarah was carrying his child too? Sarah Bellwether, how could you be so utterly ruthless…
In the video, Sarah let out a soft laugh. “I’m betting a hundred million. It’ll definitely be Ryan’s and my baby born first.”
“I’ll put fifty million with Sarah.”
“And I’ll put fifty million…”
The shouts of bets rose and fell, a cacophony of voices. They all knew the truth. Only I had been kept in the dark.
“I really want to see Caleb’s face when he finds out you spent nine months pregnant, carrying my and Natalie’s baby. It’ll be priceless.” Sam’s voice cut through the noisy background. Though I couldn’t see him clearly, I could almost picture his smug expression. He must have been so proud of himself.
My eyes, bloodshot and burning, slowly curved into a smile. Then I’ll bet too. I bet every single one of you will lose this time. Because the babies in Sarah Bellwether’s womb were already stillborn.
I picked up my phone and made a call. “Is everything ready?”
A day later, the yacht docked. Sarah, Ryan, Sam, and a large group of people disembarked. Many were laughing, still basking in the glow of the spectacular yacht party. Amidst the crowd, someone casually mentioned, “I just saw on social media, someone was in a car accident today. Looked a bit like Caleb Thompson.”
At that, Sarah’s brow immediately furrowed, and she shot an irritated glance at the speaker. Sam laughed. “Sis, why are you getting upset? It can’t possibly be Caleb.”
Just then, a delivery driver approached. “Ms. Bellwether? This is a package for you. Signature required, please.”
“Also for Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones, and a Mr. Bellwether.”

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