Fresh from the ER, I found the hospital room barricaded. Julian’s assistant, Angela, held my newborn, her eyes full of malice. Before I could react, she hurled the baby to the floor. The crying stopped. I fought to get up, but Julian just stood there, cold and detached. Angela snatched the baby up again, glared at me—her eyes so much like mine—and hissed, “This is what you owe me. Today, you’ll pay with his life.” The baby fell still, growing cold. My world broke. I scrambled to hold him, screaming for someone to call the police. Julian slapped my phone away. His voice was ice: “Don’t. We do owe her.” He leaned close, kissed my tears, and said calmly, “It’s my fault. When you were studying in Europe, I was lonely. I found Angela to stand in for you… To keep me, she got pregnant. Then you came back, and I made her end it.” “So this child is what you owe her.” “And what I owe her.” … Angela stood a short distance away, meticulously wiping her hands with a wet wipe. She rubbed them over and over, then tossed the wipe into the bin. “Jan Fischer, being your stand-in has been the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done. And you and Julian Daniels, you both owe me for life.” Julian remained silent, his grip tightening on my hand, stopping me from dialing. He pressed me down, forcing me to watch as Angela strolled out of the room. The moment the door clicked shut, Julian grabbed my hand. “Just let it go, okay?” “Isn’t having me enough for you? It’s just one baby. We’ll have plenty more children later.” “You can just say you were weak from childbirth and accidentally dropped him…” I stared into his eyes. He showed no flicker of emotion, as if the child in my arms was just a discarded doll. The baby looked so much like him. He didn't even glance at him, just grabbed a blanket, attempting to take the baby from my arms. “Angela’s had it rough. She lost her ability to have kids after that termination. Seeing you deliver easily, she must have been consumed by jealousy…” “Jan, if you want more children, we can try now… right now.” He kissed me frantically, his hand gripping my waist. I bit down hard on his hand. Just then, perhaps from our movements, the baby let out a faint, tiny cough. “He’s not dead! My baby’s not dead!” I fought with all my might, clutching the baby, and dashed for the door. Just as my fingers grazed the doorknob, Julian struck me, knocking me unconscious. As I fell, the baby slipped from my grasp. I watched, horrified, as my child hit the floor, blood seeping from his mouth. I tried to scream, but a hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my cries until I finally blacked out. When I woke, the Daniels family relatives crowded the room. Even a police officer sat nearby, taking notes. The moment I stirred, Julian’s mother marched over and slapped me across the face. The blow left my ears ringing for a long time, the voices around me a muddled blur until the officer approached. “Ms. Fischer, we’ve received a report from the hospital. You’re suspected of accidentally causing the death of your child. We need to ask you some questions.” “Specifically, between eight and ten last night, did you pick up your child and subsequently cause him to fall?” Those two sentences cut through the ringing in my ears. But they triggered an uncontrollable pain in my chest. What did they mean, I was suspected of accidentally killing my child? It was Angela… I tried to speak, but when I opened my mouth, my voice was unnaturally hoarse. In that instant, I sensed something was terribly wrong. I turned, meeting Julian’s gaze. He stroked my hair, his voice impossibly gentle. “My wife already suffered from severe depression, and with the postpartum hemorrhage, she hasn’t recovered well, leading to this accident. I’ll send her to a sanatorium for proper care…” “I have her psychiatric evaluation results, Officer. You can see them.” I struggled, desperate to deny it, to speak. But the harder I tried, the more my voice failed, my throat feeling as if it had been brutally sliced open by razor blades. And the entire Daniels family looked at me with an unshakeable hatred. Julian’s parents pointed at me, accusingly. “How could a mother be so cruel! To throw her own child to his death!” “He was barely born, and you killed him yourself. You’re heartless, a monster, you don’t deserve to live in this world.” Their accusations grew sharper, each one stabbing deeper than the last. Angela stood nearby, a faint, unreadable smile playing on her lips. Julian spoke briefly with the officer, who then left. Julian approached, wiping my hands, while trying to silence his family’s tirade. “Stop saying those things. She’s suffering enough. She’ll get better at the sanatorium, and we’ll have more children later.” He finished, and as our eyes met, he whispered, “Jan, your voice will come back. I didn’t give you too strong a dose. Once you come to your senses, it’ll be fine.” So, he was the one who silenced my voice. Just to prevent me from revealing the truth. Julian gently wiped the tears from my face with a damp cloth, comforting me. “Don’t worry. I’ve arranged for a reputable funeral home to handle the baby’s arrangements.” “We’ve chosen the best possible resting place for him.” “Angela felt terrible afterward, too. She specially hired a priest to pray for our baby, spent a lot of money, and even personally took him for cremation.” Cremation? My baby was cremated after I passed out? I stared, wide-eyed, at Julian. I hadn’t even seen my child one last time. Why was he cremated? Why didn’t they let me see him? I stammered, tears and snot streaming down my face, but everyone present thought I was insane, scoffing at my distraught state. “What’s she blabbering about? Doesn’t someone have a sedative to give her a few shots?” “She killed her own child and she’s still screaming like that. Insane, absolutely insane. It’s a disgrace to the Daniels family to have a daughter-in-law like this.” Angela stood near me, her voice sickeningly sweet, her usual gentle tone cutting me to the bone. “Oh, Jan, don’t you worry! I personally oversaw the cremation. He’s in a little urn now, a tiny little bit of ash. There’s no more pain, and the baby won’t blame you.” That phrase, “a tiny little bit,” magnified my agony a thousandfold. I lunged at her, a primal scream trapped in my throat. But the postpartum hemorrhage, the exhaustion, the lingering weakness from the night before… I crumpled to the floor, scrambling desperately towards her, only to be branded as having a psychotic breakdown. A group of orderlies were called. They tied me down with cloth strips, even gagging me. “I’m not crazy, I’m not…” All my incoherent pleas were muffled. They dragged me, forcefully, back to the bed. Julian pushed them away and embraced me. “Please, stop this, Jan. You’re breaking my heart. It’s just a child. Didn’t we marry for love? Not for breeding. Can’t you be rational?” “Julian, don’t spoil her so much. Your wife is a lunatic, she killed her own child with her own hands!” “If she can kill her own baby, who knows, maybe she’ll kill you one day. You’d be better off getting a divorce.” “I think Angela’s wonderful. Why don’t you divorce her and be with Angela? After all, when Jan was in Europe, Angela was always by your side.” His parents finished speaking. Angela looked on, expectant. Julian merely shook his head. “I only love Jan. I’ll only ever love her.” He carried me out of the hospital, personally taking me to a sanatorium. From the day I entered the sanatorium, the media swarmed. They'd caught wind of the story – my alleged infanticide – and hounded me for interviews. They’d even burst into my room late at night, relentlessly asking why I’d thrown my child to his death. “Are you genuinely mentally ill, or was it intentional?” “How can you kill your own baby and sleep soundly? Do you even have a conscience?” “You’re a mother! How could you throw your own child to his death?!” More and more media outlets clamored to report the story. Before long, the sanatorium asked Julian to take me back. But Julian never came. In the end, the sanatorium staff drove me to the outskirts of the Daniels estate. They unceremoniously shoved me out of the car. “Good riddance! A nuisance like you is disrupting our entire sanatorium.” “Get lost!” I rolled a full circle on the ground, my hands scraped and bleeding. I struggled to my feet, tried to call out, but my voice still hadn’t returned. I walked to the facial recognition scanner and the gate swung open. I staggered inside. The moment I pushed open the front door, I heard Julian’s voice. “You took Jan’s child, so you deserve to be punished.” “Don’t think that me keeping you out of jail means I’m letting you off. You know how much I love Jan, how much I looked forward to that child. You have to compensate! You have to pay!” Julian was avenging our child? A sliver of hope sparked in my heart, and I followed the sound. But when I pushed open the bedroom door, I froze. Julian had Angela dressed in my clothes, even wearing my favorite makeup and my framed glasses, lying on our wedding bed. Various props were strewn about. Angela and he were entangled. Her body was covered in whip marks, yet they seemed inextricably bound, like lovers in a passionate embrace. The floor was a mess. Angela even had a tattoo identical to mine. I couldn’t fathom that this was his idea of punishment. And Julian was still utterly engrossed. “If you hate being a stand-in so much, then why are you so willing to wear her clothes to please me?” “Angela Vance, when Jan gets out of the sanatorium, you’re in for it!” Angela seemed utterly absorbed in their perverse dynamic. She adjusted her glasses, a smirk on her face. “Didn’t you provoke me, saying that throwing her baby to his death would prove the depth of my love for you? I did it. I picked him up and threw him again and again. I was so afraid he wouldn’t die, and then I couldn’t prove how much I loved you.” “I don’t want to be a stand-in anymore. You just like her type. Jan Fischer can be your first love, but I, Angela Vance, can be too!” Just then, I knocked on the door. Both of them snapped their heads towards me… Julian scrambled to pull on his clothes, snatching the discarded clothes from the floor and throwing them at Angela. Angela, seeing me, was clearly less flustered than Julian. She even pushed up my glasses, a defiant glint in her eyes. As she bent to pick up the clothes, she deliberately bumped into me, hard. “What? You heard everything?” she sneered. “Heard it all and still so calm? Aren’t you depressed? Shouldn’t you be off killing yourself right now?” “Your own husband used your baby as a bet in our game of love, you know.” Julian, hearing her words, roared, “Shut up!” She just smiled at Julian. “Okay, Mr. Daniels, I won’t interrupt your conjugal bliss.” Julian rushed over. “What’s wrong?” “Why are you back so suddenly? Weren’t you comfortable at the sanatorium?” “You didn’t even tell me you were coming back. I would have picked you up.” He finished, then saw the injuries on my body and instantly became furious. “Who did this? Didn’t I tell them not to be rough with you, not to hurt you? I said I’d pick you up when you came to your senses. How dare they?” He helped me sit on the scarred bed. He took out a first-aid kit and began to gently clean my wounds. His movements were exceptionally careful. He looked as if he loved me just as much as before. He bowed his head, meticulously treating each wound, then bandaged me up. He looked at me. “Don’t misunderstand. Angela and I were just… letting off steam. Physical release and love are always different.” I stared at him. “Did you tell her to throw my baby to his death?” Julian stood up and put an arm around my shoulder. “Angela was just speaking in anger. I love you, so naturally I loved our child. How could I ever use our child as such a massive gamble? I was devastated when he was gone.” Looking at the used condoms scattered on the floor, I truly couldn’t see where his devastation lay. The baby’s funeral arrangements weren’t even finalized, and he was already rushing to share a bed with the very person who murdered my child. “I just want to know if you made a bet with her!” Julian avoided the question, deliberately trying to gloss over it. I stared into his eyes. “I’m only asking you one last time.” Julian, cornered by my persistence, turned to face me. “I just said it in passing. I wasn’t serious. Angela is just… so obsessive, she actually did it. Honey, please believe me.” He knelt on the floor, earnestly swearing to God. I ignored him, asking instead, “When did you say it in passing?” “Where did you say it in passing?” Julian gripped his hands, looking at me. “Why are you being so pedantic? The baby is dead. It was just a child, and you didn’t even spend much time with him. Are you really going to quarrel with me over a mere ‘lump of flesh’ you barely knew?” “Jan, think of everything we’ve been through to be together. Are we really going to break up over a child?” He said, then forcefully pushed me down. While I was distracted, he used the same handcuffs Angela had used to bind my wrists. “Your condition still hasn’t improved. I’ll find a private doctor to give you one-on-one treatment.” “When you’re better, we’ll have another child. And I won’t let Angela touch the baby then.” “Okay?” He casually tied me to the chair, then changed clothes and walked out the door. My phone, still recording, continued its silent work. I struggled to turn it off with my bound hands. Then, using the reflection in the mirror, I managed to send the video to a reporter. I had Angela to thank for this, in a twisted way. If she hadn’t deliberately leaked the story of my supposed infanticide to the media, I wouldn’t have had contact with so many journalists. And I wouldn’t have met a social media journalist who was willing to believe me. After I sent the video, the reporter quickly responded, but I was tied up and couldn't reply. It wasn't until evening that Julian returned.
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