The Pregnant Wife Sacrificed by Her Family Chapter 07

The Pregnant Wife Sacrificed by Her Family Chapter 07

My mother’s voice was a sickly venom echoing through the intercom.

“Pry it open,” Amelia ordered the two massive thugs wearing fake state psychiatric lanyards. “And don’t be gentle.”

The heavy steel deadbolt groaned and shattered. The door exploded inward.

Steven charged in first, his polished demeanor gone. Gripping a steel wrench, he roared, “Grab her!”

Roxy threw herself into his path but was instantly overpowered. The two fake orderlies shoved her brutally against the wall, pinning her

arms.

Amelia marched in. She lunged, her fingers tangling viciously into my hair. With a sickening yank, she dragged me toward the ruined

doorway, my knees scraping the floor.

“Get off me!” I shrieked.

Steven stepped up and kicked me squarely in the ribs. The air burst from my lungs, and I curled inward against the blinding pain.

“You destroyed my life!” Steven screamed, pointing the wrench at my face. “I was suspended this morning because of that video! It’s all your fault!”

Amelia yanked my hair harder. “I saw the dates on that sonogram, Celeste! Do you really think I’m stupid? I know who the father of that bastard was. You had to go and seduce your own adoptive father!”

The accusation was so insanely twisted my brain short-circuited. She was rewriting history, warping a violent assault into a disgusting fantasy just to preserve her pristine image.

“I’m committing you, Amelia sneered, pulling out fabricated psychological evaluation forms. “I am going to lock you in a padded room. You’re completely insane.”

‘Just sedate her and drag her out!” Steven yelled.

Something heavy inside my chest finally shattered. The paralyzing terror evaporated, replaced by pure, absolute rage.

I grabbed her forearm, dug my nails deep into her skin, and ripped my head forward. A clump of my own hair tore straight from my scalp, leaving the strands clutched in Amelia’s fist.

She shrieked, stumbling backward.

Ignoring the burning agony, I vaulted to my feet and shoved my bleeding face inches from Steven’s.

“Are you even human?!” I roared.

I turned my furious glare onto my mother. “I didn’t seduce anyone, and you know it! He raped me! Your husband dragged me into that

room, and you stood outside the door and did nothing!”

“Shut up!” Amelia shrieked.

“He drugged me! Your husband drugged me, and when I woke up terrified and hurting, you looked me dead in the eye and swore absolutely nothing happened! You convinced me I was just losing my mind so you could keep your precious mayor’s wife status!”

I stepped closer. “And when the dates on that sonogram exposed his sick crime-you tried to let Noah slaughter me in a basement to bury

the truth!

Amelia’s face twisted with murderous intent. “You lying bitch!”

She raised her hand to strike. Steven raised the heavy wrench.

Right as their weapons descended, a sharp laugh cut through the room.

Roxy was leaning off the wall, the goons having loosened their grip in confusion. She pointed toward a tiny camera perched above her

computer monitors. Its red light blinked steadily.

“Did you think I was trying to lock the door?” Roxy asked, her voice dripping with lethal amusement. “We’ve been broadcasting.”

Her dual monitors flared to life, displaying a live chat feed scrolling so fast it was a blur.

The viewer count read 845,210-and climbing.

The silence in the room was apocalyptic.

Amelia stared at the screens, her jaw trembling as her untouchable fortress collapsed into dust. “No…” she whimpered. “It’s a deepfake!”

Steven dropped the wrench. It clattered against the wood. He grabbed his jacket, throwing it over his head.

The two fake orderlies, realizing what they had just become accessories to on national television, bolted out the door.

I wiped the smeared blood from my split lip and looked at my family, feeling only the cold satisfaction of cutting out a malignant tumor.

“I’m done being your scapegoat,” I said quietly.

Utterly broken, Amelia fled into the hallway, Steven stumbling closely behind her.

Roxy wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders, looked at the camera, and gave a two-finger salute. “Cut the feed.”

The fallout was catastrophic.

Within the hour, the FBI raided the Mayor’s mansion.

But the real violence came from the rats turning on each other. Amelia and Steven had fled straight back to Richard, expecting salvation.

Instead, seeing his political empire annihilated on live television, Richard flew into a psychotic rage and struck Amelia.

Her fractured psyche snapped.

Steven tackled his adoptive father to the carpet.

By the time the SWAT team breached the doors, Mayor Richard was dead.

Amelia was laughing hysterically next to the body, and Steven stared blankly at his blood-soaked hands. They were dragged out in

handcuffs, destined to rot behind bars.

My legal battle took exactly four days.

The court expedited my divorce, granting me full custody of my firstborn and establishing an airtight restraining order. Noah was publicly

terminated, his medical license revoked for attempting an illegal abortion. He was bankrupted and ruined.