He Streamed My Fifth Abortion For Her Chapter 01

He Streamed My Fifth Abortion For Her Chapter 01

There was one rule every woman who married into the Sterling family had to follow.

If a Sterling daughter-in-law became pregnant, the family’s spiritual advisor had to perform a “soul reading.”

If the advisor declared that the unborn child carried a dark spiritual aura, the pregnancy had to be terminated.

My first four babies never stood a chance.

Each time, the advisor simply rested a hand over my stomach, slowly shook his head, and a few hours later I was wheeled into another operating room.

After my fourth procedure, I was being rolled back to my hospital room when the doctor pulled Damien Sterling aside into the hallway.

I wasn’t asleep.

I heard every word.

“Her uterine wall is paper-thin. If she goes through another abortion, she’ll most likely hemorrhage to death.”

When I became pregnant for the fifth time, I dropped to my knees in front of Damien, clutching my prenatal reports.

“Every test came back perfect. The baby’s healthy. Please… please let me keep this one.”

I could barely breathe.

“I’m already five months along. They can’t just… end the pregnancy anymore. They’ll have to induce labor. I’ll have to deliver our baby.”

My voice broke.

“The doctor said my body might not survive it.”

Damien crouched in front of me and gently wiped away my tears.

His voice was soft.

“Our spiritual advisor doesn’t judge physical health. He reads souls and destiny.”

He squeezed my hand.

“The next baby will be the right one.”

“I’ll hire the best doctors in the country. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

I’d heard those exact words four times already.

The procedure was scheduled for the day after tomorrow.

At two o’clock that morning, Damien and his cousin Caleb Sterling were talking outside my hospital room.

They thought I was asleep.

Caleb lowered his voice.

“The spiritual advisor is just some washed-up Hollywood psychic you hired to play along, isn’t he? You’ve already made Clara abort five pregnancies. Enough is enough.”

He paused.

“Even if you hate her… that’s still five children.”

Damien answered with terrifying calm.

“Vivian waited six years for me.”

“When my family forced me into an arranged marriage with the Harrington family, Vivian jumped off a rooftop.”

“Her spine was shattered.”

“She was twenty-two.”

“She’s been in a wheelchair ever since.”

Silence.

Then he continued.

“Clara Harrington stole Vivian’s place.”

“The thing growing inside her doesn’t deserve to inherit the Sterling family.”

“None of them do.”

Their footsteps slowly faded away.

I stared at the ceiling.

My entire body went numb.

Three years.

Four pregnancies.

Four surgeries.

I’d spent all that time believing he suffered with me.

…

Caleb still wasn’t giving up.

“She’s five months pregnant. An induction at this stage is basically childbirth. Her body won’t survive it.”

Damien was quiet for several seconds before speaking again.

His tone softened.

“Vivian wants to watch this one herself.”

Every muscle in my body froze.

Caleb’s voice shot up.

“Watch? You mean… in the operating room?”

“No.”

Damien sounded as though he were discussing tomorrow’s weather.

“She can’t come because of the wheelchair.”

“I promised I’d video call her through the entire procedure.”

Caleb sucked in a sharp breath.

“Have you lost your mind? What if Clara wakes up and sees you holding your phone while…”

“She won’t.”

Damien cut him off gently.

“I already spoke to the anesthesiologist.”

“They’ll put her completely under.”

“She won’t know a thing.”

“When she wakes up…”

He let out a quiet sigh.

“I’ll play the grieving husband one more time.”

Outside, everything fell silent.

A long time passed before Caleb finally spoke again.

“And after this?”

There was exhaustion in Damien’s voice.

“Vivian said this is the last one.”

“Once this baby’s gone, Clara won’t be able to have children anymore.”

“After that…”

“I’ll treat Clara well.”

“I owe her that.”

“It’s been three years.”

“That’s enough.”

I buried my face in my pillow.

Not a single tear came.

Three years.

Every surgery, Damien had stayed beside my bed.

He wiped the sweat from my forehead.

Fed me water.

Held me in the middle of the night whenever I woke up crying.

He would whisper over and over,

“I’m sorry.”

“We’ll keep the next baby.”

I believed him.

Four times.

I thought he was hurting just as much as I was.

I blamed fate.

I believed that if we endured long enough, everything would eventually get better.

Now I finally understood.

Those bloodshot eyes weren’t from grief.

He was terrified I’d die on the operating table and leave him unable to explain himself to the Harrington family.

Every apology…

Had really meant,

Why are you pregnant again?

And that woman…

Vivian…

She had been watching from the other side of a screen every single time.

Watching my babies be taken from me.

One after another.

The day after tomorrow.

He was going to do it again.

General anesthesia.

A livestream.

My last child.

I placed a trembling hand over my stomach.

The baby gave a tiny kick.

Just last week, I’d grabbed Damien’s hand and pressed it against my belly.

“It’s moving,” I’d cried.

“Our baby’s moving.”

Damien had smiled.

Now, remembering that smile felt like someone slowly driving a knife into my chest…

…then twisting it.

My fingernails dug into my palms until they almost drew blood.

It hurt.

God, it hurt.

But the day after tomorrow would never come.

Not this time.

Never again.