The Silent Womb's Revenge

Chapter 10

Ethan Sullivan's hands trembled violently as he pushed open the nursery door.

The key slipped from his fingers for the third time, the metallic clatter echoing sharply in the empty hallway. No one had stepped into this room in four years—not since the child who never arrived was lost. Even walking past it made Sophia shudder.

Moonlight seeped through the curtains, illuminating a dust-covered teddy bear. Ethan's polished shoes crunched over scattered puzzle pieces when a glint of reflected light caught his eye.

A brown envelope lay quietly on the desk.

He lunged for it, knocking over a storage bin in the corner. With a crash, hundreds of used IVF syringes spilled out like a silver storm. Yellowed medical reports fluttered down like snowflakes, each bearing Sophia's name.

Faded words in marker stained the lid:

"Ethan Sullivan, remember how much these needles hurt her.

You owe her a lifetime.

If you ever betray her, may lightning strike you dead."

His throat tightened as he tore open the envelope. When the ultrasound slid out, his knees hit the floor with a thud.

6 weeks and 3 days. The date was last Wednesday—the same day he'd promised to celebrate their anniversary with Sophia but instead boarded a flight to Paris with Victoria Taylor.

"So this was your gift..." His fingers traced the bean-sized shadow on the scan before a ringing phone shattered the silence.

Beneath thirty-seven missed calls, Jacob Williams' voicemail played automatically: "Ethan! Why isn't Sophia answering? You were supposed to take her for progesterone tests today!"

Ethan's shirt clung to his back with cold sweat. He frantically redialed Sophia's number, but only an automated voice answered. Their last WhatsApp message from yesterday afternoon glared back at him: "Darling, 7 PM tonight. I'll be waiting."—marked with a damning red exclamation point.

At 4 AM, he kicked down Victoria's apartment door. The woman clutched her robe, bewildered. "Have you lost your mind? If Sophia's missing, that's not my—"

"She was pregnant." Ethan slammed Victoria against the wall by her shoulders. "If I find out you had anything to do with this—"

His phone buzzed violently. A Weibo link from his mother flashed a headline: #Sullivan Heir's Divorce Scandal Exposed#. The first photo showed two figures entwined in a rose garden. The second froze his blood—Sophia's pale face in an ER maternity ward, timestamped 11:17 PM last night.

"The whole internet is calling you scum," Margaret Sullivan's voice blared from the speaker. "Perfect timing to pressure Sophia into signing the divorce papers. Victoria's baby—"

Ethan's fist shattered the dressing mirror. Among the shards, his own distorted face stared back. The syringes, the vow, the ultrasound—they exploded in his mind, crystallizing into one horrific realization:

Sophia's last message had been sent at the exact moment he'd kissed Victoria.