The perks package I’d earned from my 9-to-5 grind in the afterlife was supposed to be the golden ticket: I chose the life of the sole heir to a New York City financial dynasty. I never expected that in the final millisecond before my soul settled, my arch-nemesis would squeeze in beside me. We became twins. I gave her a swift kick. “Get out of here. This trust fund is mine.” She retaliated, siphoning half my nutrients from the umbilical cord. “Please. First one out is the oldest. That means primary inheritance rights.” Fantastic. After a lifetime of rivalry, this time we’d be starting as fertilized eggs. Our battle for birthright was so vicious we made our mother sick with morning sickness day and night. We were relentless, a tiny two-person war waged in the dark. Until the day we both heard our father’s voice, cold as ice, from the world outside. “That child cannot be born.” 1 “Carter, what did you just say?” That was our mother’s voice—Eleanor’s voice—trembling. My rival, Stella, and I paused our brawl mid-kick. We held perfectly still, listening. “I said,” Carter Brooks repeated, his voice devoid of any warmth, “that child cannot be born.” “Why? The doctor said the babies are perfectly healthy…” “Healthy?” A dry, mirthless chuckle. “Eleanor, have you forgotten your place? Did you really think I let you get pregnant so you could become the matriarch of the Brooks family?” In the cramped darkness of the womb, Stella and I shared a look, a silent broadcast of mutual panic. This wasn't in the brochure. Sole heir to a Manhattan fortune? We were supposed to be planning our debutante balls, not our own funerals. “What… what are you saying?” Eleanor’s voice faded to a whisper. “Chloe’s son, Noah… his heart is failing. He needs a compatible transplant, urgently.” The pieces began to click into place, each one colder and sharper than the last. “Your blood type is the same as his,” Carter continued, his tone clinical, as if discussing a stock portfolio. “Rh-null. I did my research. A child you carry has an extremely high probability of being a match. Twins, especially. One for the transplant, one as a backup. It’s foolproof.” Eleanor’s horror was a physical wave that washed over us. “So, from the very beginning… my children were just… a living organ bank for Noah.” Her emotional distress triggered a violent contraction. The walls closed in, and Stella and I were crushed together. “No… it can’t be…” Eleanor’s voice broke into a sob. “Carter, they’re your children, too! How could you…” “Children?” His voice dripped with disgust. “Eleanor, don’t flatter yourself. My only child is the one Chloe gave me. The things in your stomach are nothing more than two well-matched sets of spare parts. Your job is to deliver them, safe and sound. Do that, and the Brooks family will compensate you handsomely.” He paused, letting the cruelty sink in. “If you want to blame someone, blame them for choosing your womb to land in.” “Now, get ready. We’re going to the hospital. I’ve already made the arrangements.” Our mother’s terror and heartbreak became a cascade of brutal contractions, squeezing the breath from our tiny, developing lungs. “No! I won’t!” Eleanor shrieked, a sound of pure, primal fear. “I won’t let anyone hurt my babies!” “You don’t have a choice,” Carter snarled. Then, a dizzying lurch. We could feel our mother being dragged, her body fighting against an overwhelming force. What do we do? I projected the thought to Stella. She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she coiled her tiny body and kicked with all her might in one direction. “Argh!” A muffled grunt of pain from the outside world. It was Carter. “Eleanor! You think you can run from me?” his voice roared from behind, filled with a terrifying rage. He wanted our hearts? He could dream on. 2 Eleanor didn’t get far. Within minutes, Carter’s security team had us back in the penthouse, prisoners in our own home. Stella and I could feel the frantic, rabbit-fast thumping of our mother’s heart. We could feel her body trembling with a fear so profound it seeped into our own developing bones. “Carter, you’re a monster! You’ll rot in hell for this!” Eleanor screamed, her voice raw as they pinned her to a vast, king-sized bed. “A monster?” Carter’s voice was laced with a chilling amusement. “Eleanor, you should be honored. To be able to give something so precious to Chloe and Noah… it’s the most important thing you’ll ever do.” “Shut up! Who the hell is Chloe to me?” CRACK. The sound was sharp, sickening. A wave of fiery pain shot through Eleanor’s cheek, and we felt it, too. “Don’t you ever disrespect her,” Carter said, his voice dangerously low. “A woman like you isn’t fit to say her name.” “I’ll spit on her name! She’s nothing but a home-wrecking—” “It seems one slap wasn’t enough to clear your head.” His patience was wearing thin. “Let me remind you of something, Eleanor. Everything you have—your status as Mrs. Brooks, the black Amex, this apartment overlooking Central Park—I gave it to you. And I can take it all away.” He leaned closer. “Do you really think your family, with their failing little business, can protect you? One phone call from me, and they’ll be wiped off the map by morning.” Eleanor’s curses died in her throat, replaced by choked, desperate sobs. This was the gilded cage I’d fought for nine hundred years to be born into? Back in the dimension between lives, Stella and I were legends for all the wrong reasons. I was the top-tier soul guide who’d clawed my way up through sheer grit and paperwork. She was the hell-raising spirit who’d literally fought her way to the top. We’d battled to a stalemate over the single Platinum Rebirth package, only to be sucked into the same vortex at the last second by some cosmic glitch. And now, here we were. “Nice pick, Luna,” Stella’s thought was drenched in sarcasm. “This is the ‘good family’ you were so desperate for?” “Oh, shut up, Stella,” I shot back. “Like you weren’t trying to shove your way in here, too.” “Only because you were blocking the better options!” “Sure, keep telling yourself that.” Our bickering was interrupted by a syrupy sweet voice from the doorway. “Carter, honey, don’t be angry with Eleanor. It’s all my fault…” “It has nothing to do with you,” Carter’s tone softened instantly. “If only my body were stronger, if I could have had another child for you, we wouldn’t have to put her through this…” It was Chloe. She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry, Ellie,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy as she approached the bed. “Please don’t blame Carter. He’s just so worried about Noah. The doctors… the doctors said he might not make it through the winter…” She was a performer, and this was her stage. “As long as your children can save my Noah,” she whispered, her voice cracking beautifully, “I’ll… I’ll spend the rest of my life repaying you.” “Did you hear that, Eleanor?” Carter’s voice was sharp again. “Chloe is being gracious. The least you can do is show some gratitude.” He slid a document onto the bed. “Sign this. It’ll be better for everyone.” “What is this?” Eleanor’s voice was hoarse. “Voluntary organ donation consent forms,” Carter replied nonchalantly. “Signing them now just simplifies the process later.” “And if I don’t?” “If you don’t?” He laughed. “Fine. Then I can arrange for an ‘accidental’ premature birth. Or even… an ‘accidental’ death. Either way, Eleanor, the little things in your belly belong to me.” 3 “Don’t sign it!” I screamed in my mind. “If she signs, we’re finished!” Stella roared back. But Eleanor couldn’t hear us. We felt her hand tremble as it reached for the pen, a gesture of complete and utter defeat. “That’s a good girl,” Carter purred. “See how easy this can be?” Chloe chimed in, her voice sickeningly sweet. “I knew you’d understand, Ellie. Thank you. You’re a truly wonderful person.” The tip of the pen was inches from the paper. In that split second, Stella acted. She repositioned herself, gathered all her strength, and delivered a powerful kick directly into Eleanor’s stomach lining. “Oomph—” Eleanor’s body jackknifed, and a surge of stomach acid erupted from her mouth. With astonishing precision, the vomit splattered across the consent forms and, even more satisfyingly, all over Chloe’s pristine, white designer heels. “AH! My shoes!” Chloe’s shriek could have shattered glass. “Eleanor! You did that on purpose!” Carter exploded. Eleanor, looking as shocked as anyone, weakly shook her head. “No… I didn’t…” “You’re still lying!” Carter grabbed her by the wrist. “I see you need to be taught a real lesson!” “Carter, sweetie, it’s okay…” Chloe intervened, already back in character, her eyes welling with tears. “She didn’t mean it. The pregnancy… it’s hard on her. My shoes don’t matter. What matters is that she doesn’t get too upset… what if it hurts the babies?” She enunciated the word “babies” with pointed significance. Carter’s fury didn’t subside. “Hard on her? Is it harder than what you’ve been through with Noah?” He let go of Eleanor and pulled Chloe into a protective embrace. “You’re too good, Chloe. A woman like her doesn’t deserve your kindness.” He turned back to Eleanor, his face a mask of cold fury. He barked an order to his security guards. “Lock her in this room. Don’t let her out of your sight. Hire two nutritionists. I want them watching her every meal. I want the things in her belly fattened up like prize turkeys.” “Yes, Mr. Brooks,” a guard replied. Carter leaned down, his face close to Eleanor’s ear. “And you,” he whispered, his voice a venomous threat, “pull another stunt like that, and next time, it won’t be bile you’re spitting up. It’ll be blood.” The door clicked shut, leaving Eleanor alone with her silent, racking sobs. “Nice one,” I sent to Stella. “It was adequate,” she sniffed. “Just a warning shot.” “So what’s the plan now? We just wait here to be harvested?” I asked. “Of course not,” Stella shot back, her thought laced with fury. “He wants my heart? He’s not worthy of touching it.” “You have an idea?” “The idea,” she said, a grim satisfaction in her tone, “is to make his life a living hell.” That night, I got to work. I focused all my energy, all the skill I’d picked up in the afterlife dabbling in the art of weaving memories and nightmares. My abilities were more subtle than Stella’s brute force, but far more insidious. I constructed a nightmare just for Carter. In the dream, he was the one strapped to the operating table. Chloe, dressed as a surgeon, held a scalpel over his chest, her smile wide and terrifying. “Don’t be scared, Carter darling,” she cooed. “Noah needs a strong heart. And yours is just perfect.” Then, she sliced him open. The next morning, we overheard the maids talking. “Mr. Brooks must have had a nightmare. He was shouting all night. He looked terrible this morning.” “I know! He screamed at the head of housekeeping, said there was something ‘unclean’ in his room.” 4 In the weeks that followed, Stella and I perfected our two-pronged attack. Our “Womb Rebellion” was in full swing. Stella was the muscle. Whenever Carter and Chloe were having a romantic dinner downstairs, Stella would unleash a flurry of kicks and jabs. Eleanor would double over, her face pale, forcing her to call the on-call doctor Carter had assigned. The doctor’s arrival always shattered the happy couple’s private evening. “Eleanor, can’t you just be still for one damn minute?” he’d demand, standing over her bed, radiating impatience. “It’s your children,” Eleanor would reply, her lips white with pain. “They’re the ones kicking.” “Excuses,” he’d scoff. “They’re barely a few pounds. How much force could they have? You’re just doing this to upset Chloe, aren’t you?” Chloe, ever the martyr, would rush to her side. “Carter, don’t say that. It’s hard being pregnant. Her hormones are all over the place. Maybe… maybe I should move out for a while. If seeing me makes her this upset, it can’t be good for the babies.” “Nonsense! The only person leaving is her, after she’s done her job,” he’d snap, pulling Chloe into his arms. “You and Noah are the masters of this house. Anyone who makes you unhappy will be thrown out.” He’d glare at Eleanor. “I’m warning you. If one hair on Chloe’s head is harmed, I’ll make what’s inside you pay for it a hundred times over.” Eleanor would simply turn her face to the wall, feigning sleep. Meanwhile, I became a master dream-weaver. My nightmares for Carter grew more elaborate. I moved on from simple vivisection to showing him his beloved Brooks Corporation collapsing into ruin, him homeless on the streets of Manhattan, being stepped over by a grown-up Noah and a contemptuous Chloe. His face grew gaunt, dark circles forming under his eyes. His temper frayed to a raw nerve. “Did you hear? The boss is seeing someone now, some kind of mystic.” “He thinks he’s been cursed. He’s been screaming in his sleep every night.” The staff’s whispers were our daily entertainment. We thought we could ride this out, this campaign of low-grade psychological and physical warfare, until we were born. Then, one afternoon, Chloe burst into the penthouse, clutching a medical report and weeping hysterically. “Carter! It’s Noah! He… he can’t wait any longer!” “The doctors said his heart failure is accelerating! He needs the transplant… as soon as possible!” Carter held her, his own voice shaking. “What did they say? How soon?” “They said… they said within a month,” she sobbed. “But a month from now… the babies won’t be full-term!” “So we’ll have them delivered early,” Carter said. His voice was flat, colder than anything we’d heard before. Eleanor’s face went sheet-white. “What… did you say?” Carter didn’t even look at her. His focus was entirely on Chloe. “Don’t cry, Chloe. It’s okay. A month early? Modern medicine is incredible. The survival rate for seven-month preemies is very high.” “But… but that’s not good for the babies…” Chloe murmured, keeping up her saintly facade. “What does it matter?” Carter said, stroking her hair. “As long as the hearts are healthy, that’s all that matters. Whether they live or die is irrelevant to us.” He finally turned to Eleanor. “You heard her. Get ready. You’re having a C-section next week.” Eleanor swayed on her feet, grabbing the bedpost for support. She stared at the man she had once loved, and the last flicker of light in her eyes died out. “Carter,” she said, and then she laughed, a broken, hollow sound. “If I died, would you be sad? Even a little?” He frowned, as if she’d asked the most ridiculous question in the world. “You? Die?” He scoffed, and then uttered the cruelest words imaginable. “It would be convenient. It would save me the trouble of you trying to bother me and Chloe in the future. I’d have your body buried somewhere discreet. Consider it a reward for delivering the ‘donations’.” He smiled a thin, cruel smile. “After all, when a dog dies, its owner feels a brief pang of sadness. You’re at least a little better than a dog.” Eleanor didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She just looked at him, her gaze steady and empty, for a long, long time. Then she nodded once and said a single word. “Okay.” The calm acceptance in her voice seemed to surprise even Carter. Chloe, nestled in his arms, smiled. “I knew you’d come around, Ellie. You’re such a reasonable person when you want to be.” From that day on, Eleanor changed. The tears stopped. The protests ceased. She ate every meal they put in front of her and cooperated with every medical check. Carter was pleased. “See? This is how it should have been all along,” he’d say during his brief, infrequent visits. Chloe came by more often, flaunting new jewelry Carter had bought her, or talking about their romantic getaways. “Ellie, isn’t this bracelet gorgeous? Carter said that after Noah’s surgery is a success, he’s taking us all on a vacation to the Maldives.” “Ellie, you should eat more of the fish. It’s good for the babies. The healthier they are, the stronger their hearts will be. That gives Noah the best chance, you know?” Eleanor listened to it all with a placid, unreadable expression. “Do you think she’s given up?” I worried. “No,” Stella replied. Her senses were always sharper. “Her heartbeat is calmer than it’s ever been. This isn’t surrender. It’s the calm before the storm.” One evening, long after the house was quiet, Eleanor made a call. “Dad, it’s me. He’s making his move. Next week.”
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