Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
On April Fools' Day, I had just found out I was pregnant.
My husband, Carter, brought me a cup of hot prenatal tonic, smiling warmly as he watched me drink every last drop.
Five minutes later, excruciating cramps ripped through my stomach.
A dark pool of blood gushed out from between my legs.
Carter pulled out his phone, aiming the camera right at my face.
"Happy April Fools', babe! That was an abortion pill!"
His mother, Brenda, burst out laughing from the couch.
"Surprise! My son said you were way too fragile, so we thought we'd test your nerves with a little joke."
I curled into a ball on the floor, rolling in agonizing pain, reaching desperately toward my phone on the coffee table to call for help.
Carter kicked the phone across the room. "Can't take a joke? Every other wife can take a prank, but you're too precious?"
Brenda came over with a bucket of ice water and dumped it straight over my head. "Get up and mop this blood clean! Don't you dare be lazy in my house!"
I watched the pool of blood spread across the floorboards.
My body convulsed in pure agony.
Staring at the mother and son, my trembling, bloody lips slowly curled into a cold smile.
With a bloodstained finger, I pressed the emergency SOS button on my smartwatch and whispered,
"Carter, I'm going to show you who the real joke is."
"Tara, your acting is insane! You're literally posing in your own blood!"
Carter's sister, Chloe, kicked the door open, shoving her phone in my face. The red recording light was flashing. She was live on TikTok.
I lay curled in the pool of blood, cold sweat pasting my hair to my cheeks. Violent waves of abdominal pain battered me mercilessly.
The chat on Chloe's stream scrolled at lightning speed.
"Carter, the chat says this April Fools' prank is easily worth a hundred thousand views!"
"Send me the clip you just took, hurry! I'm editing a full cut!"
Carter handed his phone over, casually wiping the blood off the sole of his shoe against the rug.
"Chloe, you're just in time. Look at Tara. She just drank an effervescent Vitamin C tablet, and look at this dramatic performance."
Vitamin C.
Just moments ago, he clearly admitted it was an abortion pill. Now he was rewriting the story.
Brenda cracked open another roasted peanut, flicking the shell right onto my arm.
"Exactly. Tara always loves playing the victim. When I was pregnant with Carter, I was still pulling weeds in the yard at eight months. She's just useless."
"Mom, move a little. The lighting's too dim over here." Chloe dragged a floor lamp right above my face.
The harsh glare blinded me, but the blood kept flowing out of me.
Heavy, rushing footsteps echoed from the hallway.
The front door was kicked wide open.
Two paramedics in dark uniforms barged in, shoving Chloe out of their way.
"Where is the patient?"
Chloe nearly stumbled, shrieking, "Who called you guys? We didn't call 911!"
The first paramedic took one look at me on the floor, his face dropping instantly. He dropped to his knees, checking my pulse, and yelled to his partner.
"Severe hemorrhage! Tachycardia! Get the gurney, now!"
Carter shoved his hands into his pockets, frowning.
"Man, you got the wrong house. My wife's just having a heavy period. You can leave."
"Sir, this volume of blood is not a menstrual cycle." The paramedic lifted the edge of the blanket. Blood had already soaked through the entire carpet. "She is having an active miscarriage. If we don't get her to the ER right now, she will die."
Miscarriage.
The word cut through the room like a blade, severing their laughter.
Chloe was still streaming. The comments flipped in an instant.
Panicking, she ended the live broadcast with one tap.
"Carter... is she actually pregnant?"
Carter's face went pale for a split second before smoothing over. He crouched down and patted my cheek.
"Babe, why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"
As they lifted me onto the gurney, the ceiling spun wildly above me.
This morning, when the pregnancy test showed two solid lines, I told him first thing.
He had smiled, offering to brew me a nourishing prenatal drink.
He knew. He knew all along.
Before the ambulance doors slammed shut, I heard Brenda muttering outside.
"Should we... just say she fell down the stairs?"
Chloe's voice followed.
"Carter, don't delete that video yet. If it turns out not to be a big deal, this clip could easily trend on Twitter."
The gurney jolted as the paramedic leaned close to my ear.
"Ma'am, the distress signal from your watch routed to an exclusive private medical network. They dispatched us and notified your emergency contact."
"Do you want me to patch the call through?"
My throat was thick with the taste of copper. I could barely speak, but I weakly shook my head.
Not yet. The time wasn't right.
At the hospital, the nurses cut through my clothes. Blood dripped steadily off the edge of the operating table.
Carter stood just outside the ER doors, talking on the phone. His voice leaked through the gap.
"Dad, it's fine, totally fine. She was just careless. Yeah, I didn't lay a hand on her. Don't worry."
"Right, about that contract with Vance Pharmaceuticals, push their procurement team again."
The surgical light flashed on. The doctor stepped in, his expression grim.
"We couldn't save the baby. Your blood work shows massive concentrations of Mifepristone. That's a strictly controlled prescription abortion drug. Who gave this to you?"
The door creaked open, and Carter poked his head in, wearing a mask of polite concern.
"Doctor, how is my wife?"
The doctor looked at me, then at him, waiting for me to speak.
"Doctor, please just perform the procedure."
I didn't mention the poisoned drink. Not because I wanted to protect him, but because accusations meant nothing right now. Brenda would claim it was a vitamin, Chloe would wipe the video, and Carter would brand me hysterical.
In that house, truth had never existed.The surgery lasted forty minutes. Eleven weeks of life, scraped away.
When I was wheeled out of the OR, Carter was leaning against the wall scrolling through his phone.
Seeing me, he stood up, tossed a cheap plastic bouquet onto my chest, and quickly snapped a selfie with me in the background.
"Babe, you scared the hell out of me. Next time, just talk to me. I'm not an unreasonable guy."
Brenda came trotting down the hall, pulling two printed sheets from her designer handbag.
"Here, sign this while you're still lucid."
I looked down. It was a consent form stating: *Patient voluntarily requested pregnancy termination.*
Every single line had already been filled out in her handwriting.
"I took care of everything for you," Brenda said, forcing the pen into my limp fingers and patting my hand. "Sign it, and nobody can gossip later. We're family, Tara. Don't make things complicated."
"Tara, you have to cooperate."
Inside the recovery room, Chloe pointed her phone straight at me, an edited script on her screen.
"I need you to look at the camera, smile, and say: *My husband's April Fools' prank gave me a fright, but I know how much he loves me.*"
I lay back against the thin pillows, an IV needle taped to the back of my hand. Throbbing pain tore through my lower abdomen in endless, nauseating waves.
Chloe didn't wait for my answer.
"You don't want people calling my brother an abuser when the video blows up, do you? Once we post this clarification, everyone wins. My account gets followers, and you don't look like an abused, pathetic loser."
She shoved the screen an inch from my face. The front camera was already rolling.
On the screen, my face was ghostly pale, dark purple rings bruised under my eyes.
My child had been torn from my body less than eight hours ago.
"I'm not filming."
Chloe's fake smile hardened instantly.
"Don't be ungrateful, Tara. I haven't deleted the raw video. If I leak the original, who do you think looks worse?"
Her voice turned vicious.
"Did you forget you came into this family with literally nothing? The clothes on your back, the roof over your head, the phone in your hand—Carter paid for every single bit of it. Is a twenty-second clip really too much to ask?"
The door swung open, and Carter walked in carrying a takeout cup of soup. Hearing the tail end of the conversation, he glanced between us.
"What's going on?"
"Carter, she won't cooperate."
Carter placed the soup on the nightstand and sat on the edge of my bed, reaching out to stroke my hair. I flinched, pulling away. His hand froze in midair.
He stared at me for two seconds, his eyes chilling over.
"Babe, are you really throwing a tantrum right now?"
"The baby is dead."
"Yeah, I know. But we can always have another one, can't we?" He spoke casually, as if checking the weather. "The doctor said you'll be fine once you recover. Besides, to be honest, neither of us was ready to be parents anyway. Look on the bright side."
A suffocating lump blocked my throat. I couldn't breathe.
Chloe seized the opportunity to raise her phone again.
"Carter, lean closer. Get both of you in the frame. Tara, take a sip of the soup. The aesthetic will be perfect."
"Chloe, put the phone down."
"Carter?"
"I said put it down."
Surprised by his tone, Chloe rolled her eyes and shoved the phone into her pocket.
For a second, I thought he was defending me.
Then he turned to me, his voice colder than before.
"Tara, fine. Don't shoot the video here. But the second we get home, you're posting in the neighborhood WhatsApp group. You'll say it was an agreed prank between husband and wife. If the neighbors keep whispering, it's going to hurt Dad's business negotiations. You understand, don't you?"
He didn't care about me. He only cared about his father's business deal.Brenda bustled in, carrying a plastic grocery bag with an old, worn jacket inside.
"Put this on. Hospital gowns look tacky. I already handled the discharge paperwork."
"It's only been one day."
"Do you have any idea how much a night in this hospital costs?" Brenda snapped. "That little procedure could've been done in an outpatient clinic. Staying here means nursing fees, room fees—do you think our family owns a bank?"
"Brenda, the doctor told me to stay under observation for two days—"
"Doctors will say anything to squeeze money out of your insurance!" Brenda grabbed the IV line and ripped the needle out without calling a nurse.
A fat bead of blood welled up on the back of my hand. She roughly wiped it away with the dirty jacket.
She dragged me out of bed. My knees buckled, and I nearly collapsed onto the floor.
Carter didn't offer a hand. He was busy signing the discharge slip.
Chloe followed behind, her phone peeking out from her breast pocket with the lens aimed directly at me. She was secretly recording.
As we walked out through the hospital entrance, a sleek black sedan was idling by the curb, its tinted window rolled down halfway.
Inside sat a sharp woman in a tailored gray suit. Her gaze locked onto me for three seconds.
I knew her. Elena, General Counsel of Vance Pharmaceuticals.
Her lips moved. I read her mouth: *"Miss Vance."*
I gave an almost imperceptible shake of my head, walked past her car, and got into Carter's passenger seat.
The moment the door closed, I saw Elena lift her phone in the side mirror.
Carter started the engine and turned to give me a charming smile.
"Babe, how about I make you some ginger tea when we get home? Remember on our anniversary last year, you said you loved my ginger tea?"
I remembered. That day, he had put too much ginger in the pot. It burned my throat until tears welled in my eyes, and he had gently wiped them away with a laugh.
A man who could smile while feeding me poison—how much of his past tenderness had ever been real?
When we pulled into the gated community, Brenda hopped out first, shouting across the driveway to our neighbor.
"Mrs. Gable! You won't believe the hilarious prank my son pulled on his wife for April Fools'!"
Every single word carried clearly through the glass.
Carter cut the engine, staying in his seat.
"Babe, are you still sulking?"
I stayed silent.
"Fine. I'll give you two days to process your feelings. But before the day after tomorrow, that neighborhood post goes up."
"I'm not asking for your permission."
"Tara, come look! I chopped the video into three viral parts!"
Chloe was lounging on the living room sofa, her laptop tilted on the coffee table.
It was my second day back in the house. Brenda hadn't even let me sleep in my own bedroom.
My room had been completely cleared out to store Chloe's streaming ring lights, backdrops, and equipment.
"You sleep in the utility pantry until Chloe heads back to the city," Brenda had ordered without a shred of hesitation.
There was no bed in the pantry. I had spread a thin blanket over cardboard boxes, curling up through the night. The sharp, tearing pain in my abdomen made it impossible to turn, so I pressed my burning forehead against the freezing drywall just to stay conscious.
The next morning, Chloe dragged me out of the pantry and shoved her laptop in my face.
"Look at this part—when you swallow the drink, Carter's face is legendary."
On screen, the video played. Carter held the glass, smiling brilliantly. I took it, drank it down, and flashed a small finger-heart at the camera.
The video cut. Blood everywhere.
My face appeared on screen, contorted in agony, chalk-white.
"This clip already has two hundred and thirty thousand views!" Chloe cheered, pointing at the analytics. "The comments are going wild! Some are calling Carter toxic, some are roasting you for being dramatic. Who cares? Views are views!"
I stared at the dark pool of blood on the screen.
"Delete it."
"What?"
"I said delete it."Chloe laughed and snapped her laptop shut.
"Tara, do you honestly think this video only lives on my phone? I posted it on three different platforms, backed it up to two cloud drives, and sent it to over two hundred group chat mods. Even if you smash my phone to pieces, it won't do shit."
"Besides, think about it. Even if you call the cops, how are you going to prove Carter gave you that pill? Carter already told everyone it was Vitamin C. You miscarried because your body is weak."
"The hospital toxicology report—"
"Oh, please. The report only says there was Mifepristone in your system. It doesn't say who fed it to you. For all they know, you bought it yourself. Maybe you never wanted the baby in the first place."
The front door clicked open.
Carter's father, Richard Hayes, walked in. His suit was wrinkled, but his graying hair was slicked back neatly.
He cast a cold glance at me without speaking, then sank into the armchair.
"I know what happened," Richard said, taking a sip of black coffee, his brow furrowed deep enough to crush a coin.
For a second, I thought he might display a shred of human decency.
"Carter, are you an absolute idiot?"
Carter emerged from the bedroom, looking sheepish.
"Dad, let me explain—"
"Explain what? Do you have any idea that I'm in the final stages of closing a supplier agreement with Vance Pharmaceuticals? Do you know the scale of that corporation? And you pull this cheap, trashy stunt right at the finish line?"
"If someone from Vance sees that sickening video and thinks the Hayes family runs a clown show, what happens to my contract?"
"Dad, barely anyone saw it..."
"Two hundred and thirty thousand views, and you call that 'barely anyone'?! What does your sister's bio say? *Daughter of Richard Hayes!* It takes one minute for a corporate auditor to trace that back to me!"
From beginning to end, he never mentioned my baby. Not a single syllable.
Brenda chimed in.
"Richard, don't stress. I already told Tara. She's posting an apology and explanation to clear everything up."
Richard turned his gaze to me.
"You haven't posted it yet?"
"Because it wasn't a joke," I said softly. "The pill was real. And my baby is dead."
The living room fell dead silent.
Richard's left eyelid twitched. Then he rose, walked over, and leaned down close to my face, inspecting me like a damaged piece of cheap furniture.
"Listen to me carefully. Whether that pill was real or fake, from this moment on, there is only one official narrative: your weak constitution caused an unfortunate natural miscarriage. Carter had nothing to do with it."
"You've been married to my son for three years without contributing a single cent to this household. Your parents are dead. Your only safety net in this world is the Hayes family."
"If you refuse to cooperate, I'll have Carter divorce you immediately. You'll be thrown onto the street without a roof over your head."
He straightened his cuffs.
"Post the statement within thirty minutes."
Chloe clapped from the couch. "Dad always knows how to handle business."
Thirty minutes later, I posted the statement. The attached photo was the selfie Carter had taken at my bedside. The caption Chloe wrote read: *Just a silly April Fools' game with my husband that got a little out of hand haha. Totally fine now! Thank you all for the love. Best husband ever!*
The second it went live, I opened an encrypted browser window on my phone.
One hundred and thirty-seven unread emails sat in the inbox, every single one from the same sender: *Office of the Chairman, Vance Pharmaceuticals.*
The most recent one had arrived this morning, containing a single sentence:
*Tara, when can Grandpa come bring you home?*
I closed the browser.
Brenda came over, skimmed the post, and patted my shoulder in satisfaction.
"Now that's a good girl. Go take out the trash, and make dinner while you're at it."
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
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