Three days. That was the countdown flickering in the back of my mind before I could finally claw my way back to reality. The cold, electronic drone of the System echoed in my skull just as I felt myself slipping toward the edge of consciousness. It told me the narrative arc had finally reached its conclusion. The nightmare was almost over. I’ve always been "genetically predisposed," as the doctors put it—a high-fertility asset in a world that treated me like a biological machine. By the fifth year of my captivity under Gideon, I was carrying twins for the third third time. That afternoon, a little girl snuck into my room. She had a mischievous glint in her eyes and whispered that she had a gift for me. My throat tightened, and my eyes burned as I looked at her. She was my daughter—my own flesh and blood—whom I hadn’t been allowed to hold in years. "Sophie," I choked out her name. She didn't hug me. Instead, she giggled and pressed something into my palm. It was a small, rusted pocketknife. "Daddy says you’re having another baby, and that it makes you sad," she said, tilting her head with a terrifying, airy lightness. "I already have enough brothers and sisters. We don’t need the ones in your tummy. Why don’t you just use this and die? Wouldn't that be better?" A primal chill raced through my veins. I looked at her, searching for any trace of the toddler I once loved. "Sophie... do you even know who I am?" She blinked, her smile as innocent as a summer morning. "Of course. They told me you’re the woman who birthed me. But it’s okay. I have Mommy Lydia. She’s the only mother I need." Those words were the final twist of the blade. A jagged, tearing pain erupted in my abdomen, and I felt the sickening warmth of blood beginning to soak through my clothes, pooling between my legs. Gideon was there suddenly, his eyes bloodshot as he knelt by my bed. "Norah, stay with me! Hang on! I promised you—once you gave Lydia three sets of twins, I’d let you go. I’ll wipe the slate clean. You can even raise these two yourself." I was too far gone to speak. The pain was an ocean, but beneath it, a singular thought kept me afloat: Thank God. I’m finally going home. ... The twins were taken the second they drew breath. I didn't even hear them cry. Gideon returned a few hours later, his face glowing with a frantic sort of triumph. "Norah, you really are a miracle. Another set of twins. A boy and a girl." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "They look just like us. Do you want to see them? Or... do you want to start making arrangements to keep them this time?" I forced my head to turn away, my voice a thinned-out rasp. "No need, Mr. Craig. Whoever you decide should raise them is fine by me." He froze. "What did you just call me?" I didn't answer. His shock was pathetic, really. It was the first time I hadn't used his name—the first time I hadn't reached for the man I used to know. The last time I called him "Gid" was right after my first delivery. He had been standing by the door, already reaching for the bassinet to take my baby to Lydia. I had crawled out of bed, trailing blood and IV lines, clutching at his expensive wool slacks. I had begged him. I had screamed his name until my vocal cords tore, pleading with him to leave me just one. He had simply peeled my fingers off his hem with clinical precision. "Be a good girl, Norah," he had said, looking down at me as if I were a tragic but necessary sacrifice. "Lydia can’t conceive, and you... you were made for this. You're just sharing the blessing. You wouldn't want to be selfish, would you?" I had watched his silhouette vanish down the hallway, my tears hitting the hardwood floor like lead. He had promised me once—long ago, in a life that felt like a movie I’d watched once—that he would only ever love me. That I would be his wife. But he broke that promise for status, for the "perfect" marriage with Lydia. And to keep his conscience clear, he decided that my children should be the tribute he paid to his new life. He never thought he was the villain. I kept my gaze fixed on the sterile white wall, which only served to ignite his temper. "Norah! Are you seriously playing these games with me? You went through hell to bring them here, and you won’t even look at them just to spite me?" It was almost funny. After the first birth, when I had fought him, he watched my hysterics with a cold, detached boredom before taking the child anyway. Then, he had forced me to stand outside in the freezing rain all night as a "lesson" in obedience. If it hadn't been for the System's protection, that night would have broken my body forever. It would have rendered me barren. But the script required me to be the "fertile tragic lead," so I survived. I fell pregnant again. I had hoped, foolishly, that the second time would be different. But when the babies came, Gideon was there like a debt collector. He told me Lydia needed them. "Norah, she’s the Mrs. Craig. If she only has one set of twins, the women in her social circle will talk. You’re so good at this. Do it for me, okay?" The System’s invisible hand clamped over my throat, forcing back the "No" that was screaming to get out. I was a tool. A plot device. I wasn't allowed to defy the protagonist. He didn't even let me see their faces that time. I was shattered, but the cruelty didn't stop there. Lydia would purposefully bring the children by my window. I once saw her raise a hand as if to strike my eldest son, who wasn't even five yet. I lost my mind. I burst through the doors and shoved her away, pulling my boy into my arms. And then, the world stopped. My son—my own little boy—reached up and slapped me across the face. It wasn't a hard hit. His hands were too small for that. But the sting was deeper than any physical blow. I looked into his eyes and saw no recognition—only a mirrored reflection of Lydia’s coached spite. "Don't touch me, you crazy lady!" he screamed. I gripped his shoulders, my lips trembling, trying to ask him if he knew who I was. Gideon arrived a second later. He kicked me away with a force that sent me sprawling. I didn't even feel the impact; I was still staring at my son. The boy burst into tears, leaping into Gideon’s arms. "She tried to hurt me, Daddy! She's the bad lady! I want my mommy!" Lydia scrambled up from the floor, weeping gracefully, clutching the boy. And Gideon? He looked at me with utter disgust. "Teach her a lesson," he told the guards. Then he walked away with his perfect family. The ringing in my ears was only drowned out by the thud of fists against my ribs. After that, the punishments became routine. The kneeling, the beatings, the isolation—they were just the background noise of my life. But the only thing that truly killed me was the look in my children's eyes. "Since I can't keep them," I said to Gideon now, my voice devoid of emotion, "there's no point in looking. It just adds to the heartbreak." He bristled, letting out a sharp, jagged laugh. "Still haven't learned your place, have you? Fine. You don't see the children until you learn how to behave." He thought he still had leverage. He thought the children were the leash that kept me tied to him. But I had let go. I was going home. If Lydia wanted them so badly, let her have them. At least they’d be fed and clothed in that gilded cage. My silence drove him into a frenzy. He stormed out, barking orders at the staff to lock me in. Beth, the young maid who usually looked after me, looked at me with pitying eyes, but she didn't dare cross him. I sat in the silence, waiting for the clock to run out. But on the third day, just as the countdown reached its final hours, I overheard the gossip in the hall. "Stepmothers are never the real thing, are they? That poor baby... so tiny, and she’s already bruising him." "I know. I heard she nearly choked the life out of the little one last night." I bolted upright and threw open the door, grabbing the two maids by their shoulders. "What did you say?" They shoved me back with a sneer. "What's it to you? You're a useless bird in a cage. You couldn't protect them if you tried." Panic, raw and agonizing, flooded my chest. I thought Lydia just wanted the status of being a mother. I didn't think she was a monster. I had to see them. I had to know. I tried to slip out the side exit, but I ran straight into Beth. I expected her to scream for the guards, but she just quietly unlocked the small service gate. "Norah," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You saved my life three years ago when I had that fever. I can’t help your babies, but I won’t stand in your way." I thanked her through tears and ran toward the main mansion where Gideon and Lydia lived. I reached the nursery window, my lungs burning, and what I saw stopped my heart. Lydia was standing over the bassinet. Her face was a mask of cold fury. Her hands were clamped around the throat of the newborn infant—the one who wasn't even three days old. The baby was so fragile. Before I could even scream, the tiny struggle stopped. "What are you doing!" I shrieked, throwing myself against the glass. I didn't care about the pain as the window shattered, raining shards over my skin. I scrambled inside, my eyes fixed on the limp form in the crib. "You stole them!" I sobbed, clutching the cooling body of my child. "You took them from me! Why would you do this?" Lydia’s expression didn't change. "Because they look too much like you, Norah. Every time Gideon looks at them, he sees your face. I won't have it." "You monster!" I lunged at her, but she didn't fight back. Instead, her face transformed in an instant. She collapsed to the floor, wailing. "Norah, please! I know you’re angry I’m raising them, but how could you? He’s just a baby! How could you kill your own son?" "You—" "Norah!" Gideon’s voice thundered from the doorway. In that heartbeat, I realized the trap. Lydia had orchestrated the gossip. She had known I would come. Gideon didn't ask questions. He crossed the room in two strides and backhanded me so hard I hit the floor. He hauled me up by my collar, his eyes burning with a murderous light. "How could you be this evil? To kill your own child just to hurt Lydia?" I saw Lydia over his shoulder. She wasn't crying anymore. She was smiling. "It was her!" I screamed, struggling against his grip. "She choked him! Gideon, look at his neck! She killed your son!" He didn't look. He just looked at me with a mixture of pity and rage. He threw me down onto the bed of broken glass. I couldn't move. My old wounds reopened, and new ones bloomed. Blood dripped from my hair onto the floor. "Gideon... please..." Lydia whimpered, clinging to his arm. "It’s my fault. I’m a failure. I can't give you children, and I can't even protect the ones we have." She looked like a saint in her white silk nightgown. Gideon’s anger softened into a cold, hard resolve. "Take her back to the cottage," he told the guards. "Lock her in. Permanently." As the guards dragged me away, I saw Lydia lean against him. She looked at me and slowly raised a hand to her own throat, mimicking the act of strangulation. She was going to kill them all. One by one. I couldn't let it happen. With a final, desperate burst of strength, I tore myself away from the guards. They weren't expecting it. I grabbed a jagged shard of glass from the floor and lunged at Lydia. If I was leaving this world, I was taking her with me. Gideon was caught off guard, hampered by Lydia’s weight in his arms. But just as the glass was about to find its mark, a small shadow darted out. Sophie. She threw herself in front of Lydia, glaring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. "Don't you touch my mommy!" I froze. The glass was inches from her eye. If I hadn't stopped, I would have blinded my own daughter. "Pin her down!" Gideon roared. The guards slammed me into the floor. I heard the sickening snap of my wrist as they twisted it behind my back. My face was pressed into the blood-soaked carpet. Gideon gently placed Lydia on the bed before walking toward me. He knelt down, his voice terrifyingly soft. "Norah, you just won't learn, will you?" "Kill me," I spat, my voice thick with blood. "Just kill me, you coward!" He laughed. "Oh, I can't kill you. I still need you to provide for Lydia. But you need to remember this moment." He signaled the guards. They dragged someone into the room. It was Beth. She was unrecognizable. Her face was a pulp of bruised flesh, her clothes soaked in red. "Beth?" I whimpered. Gideon leaned down to my ear. "See? Because you were a 'bad girl,' your little friend has to pay the price." He nodded to a guard. The man grabbed Beth by the hair and yanked her head back. I saw her mouth—her tongue had been cut out. "No!" I screamed. "Shh, Norah. Be quiet." I broke. I didn't care about pride. I didn't care about the System. I crawled to Gideon’s feet and began to bang my head against the floor. "I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Mr. Craig! Please, stop! I’ll do anything! I’ll give her a hundred babies, just let Beth go!" Gideon looked down at me, bored. "It’s not me you should be apologizing to." I turned to Lydia’s bed and bowed until my forehead hit the ground. "I’m sorry, Mrs. Craig. It was my fault. I was arrogant. Please, save her." Lydia looked down at me, a cold smirk playing on her lips. "Norah, you’re making this so difficult. I want to forgive you, truly. But this girl... she’s the one who let you out. If we don’t handle this..." She looked at Gideon with faux concern. "You're right," Gideon said. He raised a hand. With a swift, practiced motion, the guard ended Beth’s life right in front of me. I stared at her body. I tried to scream, but the sound died in my throat. The room began to spin. The walls blurred into a dizzying smear of red and white. Beth... Beth... "Warning: Hostile environment detected. Vital signs failing. Extraction protocol initiated." The electronic voice was back. "Three... two... one..." As the countdown hit zero, the world went black, and I felt my soul slip through the cracks of the script.
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