I was a D-list actress filming in a remote, mountainous region when the flash flood hit. Desperate, I called my patron, Rhys Hawthorne, for help, and that’s when I heard the shocking voice of the baby in my womb: [Mom! Don’t call him! Do NOT let Dad come save you!] [Dad is comforting his Golden Girl, Genevieve Sinclair. If he rushes over here, she’ll have a major depressive episode and it will kill her!] Rhys’s low, commanding voice cut through the static: “Skylar Reid, it is 11:59 PM Eastern. You better truly have a reason to be calling me right now.” [Mom! He will literally kill us both!] I swallowed my panic. “My mistake, sorry. Pocket dial. I’m fine.” Let him do whatever he wanted. I just needed to make sure he didn't involve me or my child. 1 My phone’s battery was down to 6%. A few production assistants and I stumbled along the muddy trail, headlamps slicing weakly through the relentless downpour. I kept my eyes glued to the ground, but the knot of unease in my gut tightened with every step. [Mom, those PAs are working for Genevieve—she paid them to kill you. You have to sneak away, now!] I clamped a hand over my mouth and darted off the path, scrambling down a muddy slope into a thicket of overgrown shrubs. Moments later, the beam of a headlamp swept over the spot where I'd been standing. “Damn it! That bitch saw us,” one PA hissed. “There goes the million bucks.” I saw the cold glint of the knives they pulled out. Another second and they would have plunged those blades right into my abdomen. Before I could even catch my breath, my foot slipped. I lost my grip and slid hundreds of feet down the steep incline. Bushes and broken branches ripped through my thin raincoat, leaving behind stinging, bloody streaks. A terrifying, sharp ache seized my lower belly. Preterm labor. I fumbled for my phone and quickly dialed the director’s number. “It’s Skylar Reid, I’m still trapped on the mountain—” The person who answered immediately interrupted: “Are you sure about that?” It was Marc Knight, Rhys’s best friend and business partner. If anyone could arrange a swift, private rescue, it was Marc. “Yes, Marc, I am!” I rushed to reply. He sounded annoyed. “I checked with the PAs ahead of time. They told me you were already back safe hours ago!” His voice hardened. “Rhys was right. You’re playing games again, trying to pull off some scheme.” “That’s not true—” Marc scoffed. “You never quit, do you? Still trying to blow things up for attention?” He lowered his voice, the chill coming through the phone. “Let me tell you, the entire crew is busy dealing with the fallout from the flash flood. Nobody has time for your drama. I’ve ordered everyone in the crew to ignore your lunatic stories. Good luck, Skylar.” The cold wind howled, and the rain grew heavier. The mountain groaned with the sound of rushing water, a warning of the increasing flood danger. I tried a few more numbers—actors I was friendly with—but by the time the battery hit 3%, all I’d gotten were variations of "I'm sorry, I can't help." Panic flooded my chest. This child was my only family. I had to protect it. I struggled to my feet. I walked until my soles were a mass of bloody blisters, finally seeing a faint light ahead. But a broken branch tripped me. I fell face-first, and muddy water rushed into my lungs. My gasping cries were swallowed by the storm. [Mom, look out!] My baby was crying inside. I grit my teeth, grabbed a rock, and threw it with the last of my strength, hitting one of the figures ahead. That finally got their attention. It was a group of local villagers. “Wait, isn’t that the actress? The one filming in our town!” “Should we help her? This rain is too dangerous.” A kind-faced woman immediately pulled me up. “Come on! I’ll carry you! Don't be afraid, child, we’ll take you home!” That simple act of kindness nearly made me weep. Swinging precariously on the woman’s back, I relaxed slightly—and that’s when the pain intensified. In my agony, the woman’s sturdy back momentarily morphed into Rhys’s. I remembered the director who had driven me to the brink of suicide; Rhys was the one who had carried me, step by step, out of that dark little room. The illusion shattered as my lower abdomen clenched. A large gush of warmth instantly stained my costume red. I touched my belly, my eyes wide with terror. “The baby… my baby…” Bright crimson blood dropped onto the ground. Everyone tensed. “We have to get her to a clinic, fast!” “Wait, we can’t! The village is flooded, the road to the county clinic is completely washed out!” “What do we do? We can’t just leave her to die!” I clung to the woman’s shirt, tears streaming down my face. “I’m begging you, please help me! I’ll give you five hundred thousand dollars… please… save my child…” They told me there was only one small wooden bridge that might still be passable. They didn't dare risk it and dialed 911 for me. The dispatcher quickly connected with the relevant authorities. But as soon as they heard the name Skylar Reid, they instantly refused. “Ma’am, we suspect you are making a fraudulent call. Please don’t waste our resources again.” The line went dead. The surge of hope was instantly extinguished. Rhys and Marc, believing I was causing trouble, had successfully blocked every possible avenue of rescue. My hands trembling, I called Marc Knight one last time. “Marc, please, you have to help me. You don’t want Rhys’s child to be hurt, do you?” Marc paused. “Child?” “Yes! I’m pregnant!” The Hawthorne family has a difficult history with heirs. I knew a potential grandchild held immense importance. He couldn’t possibly ignore this. But he just scoffed. “A joke! You expect me to believe you?” “When Genevieve returned to the States, you promised Rhys you’d behave. But you immediately stole her campaign resources, and you pushed her into the pool, knowing she couldn’t swim! Your credibility is zero.” I didn't waste time arguing. I switched to a video call. I pulled aside my heavy costume, revealing the deep, raw scrapes on my body, and then the wide stain of red between my legs—proof of the hemorrhage. The villagers spoke up for me. Marc’s voice finally changed, laced with a bitter snarl. “Fine. I’ll believe you one last time. I’m sending a car immediately.” I was overwhelmed with relief and started to thank him. But a few seconds later, the baby’s tiny voice filled my mind. [Mom, he’s lying to you. There’s no car coming!] [That bridge ahead is going to collapse in a few minutes! Get across, Mom, now!] I didn’t wait to explain. I sank onto the ground in front of the kind woman. “That bridge is going to collapse! Please, I’m begging you, take me across!” Marc’s voice crackled through the speaker. “You think you’re smart this time, hiring a crowd of villagers to stage a show for me? I’m recording this entire performance, Skylar. I’m going to expose you as the liar you are in front of Rhys!” Seeing the villagers hesitate, I slammed my head onto the muddy ground. Thud. “Please! Save my child, I’m begging you.” Blood instantly welled up on my forehead. The kind woman tried to pull me up. “It’s too dangerous to cross now. If the baby is gone, it’s gone, honey. Don’t risk your own life.” But I wouldn’t stop. I continued to smash my head against the ground with every ounce of my remaining strength. Finally, their hearts broke. A few of them hoisted me onto their backs and rushed across the fragile bridge. On the phone, Marc sneered. “Ha! That’s a thousand-year-old double-arch bridge! It’s going to collapse now? Who do you think you are? If it does, I’ll shave my head on a live stream!” The words were still hanging in the air when the bridge structure gave way with a deafening roar. Marc was stunned. “What… no way… that’s impossible.” Soon after, the villagers carried me to Marc’s high-performance SUV and we raced toward the hospital. I could hear him speaking to Rhys on the phone. “How bad is she?” “She’ll be fine. But the baby… she’s going to lose the baby.” The line was silent for a long moment. Then, Rhys’s voice came through, icy and remote. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just an accident. It has no right to be born into this world anyway.” His words were a knife twisting deep in my heart, tearing the tissue apart. The bleeding beneath me increased. The physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my soul. [Mom, I’m so sorry, I can’t hold on much longer…] The baby’s presence grew fainter and fainter. Soon, no matter how frantically I screamed for him in my mind, there was no innocent voice to answer. I froze. Only a terrifying, dead silence remained in my heart. I was a failure, worthless trash. At three, my parents divorced; I was the abandoned baggage. At seven, my grandmother, dying of cancer, cursed me, calling me a calamity. At ten, staying with my aunt, she called me trash and a slut for 'flirting' with my uncle. I’d scavenged bottles, eaten out of trash cans, and worked illegal jobs to survive. But if I couldn’t even keep the one being who truly loved me, what was the point of surviving at all? Just before I faded away, I suddenly thought: My baby fought so hard to help me—he wants to live! A shard of clarity pierced the dark. No! I couldn't give up now! For him, I had to hold on! In the end, perhaps my fierce will to survive moved the heavens. Just before I passed out, I heard the doctor let out a long sigh of relief. “We saved her. The child is safe.” I did not hear Marc, speaking to Rhys on the phone: “Congratulations, buddy. Your wife and child are both safe.” Rhys didn’t correct his language, but his tone was freezing. “She was out of danger that fast? That proves the injury wasn’t serious.” He paused. “Contact the best specialist immediately and arrange a termination.” He added a final instruction: “She is not to know anything about it.” I woke up in the hospital bed, clutching my stomach. “Baby! My baby!” [I’m here, Mom! But I heard Dad say he wants to abort me. What are we going to do?] My baby’s relayed words sent a chill through me. I couldn’t believe Rhys was so merciless that he would dispose of his own child. After a moment to calm down, I picked up the chicken soup the crew had sent. I looked up and met a pair of cold, hostile eyes. It was one of the PAs Genevieve had hired! I quickly pretended the bowl was hot, intentionally spilling the soup all over the floor. I didn't know if Genevieve knew I was pregnant. If she did, she would stop at nothing to eliminate me. As I was formulating a plan, Rhys called. “Trapped on the mountain. Why didn’t you call me?” I was done pretending. I snapped back, “How could I dare interrupt your time with Genevieve?” “Don’t be childish, Skylar. You were playing with your life!” Rhys's tone was so accusatory, it almost made me believe he genuinely cared. I pushed the ridiculous thought away. I offered a shallow laugh. “My deepest apologies, then. I am truly wicked.” A warning crept into his voice. “I’ve arranged for the best medical team to fly out overnight. You will not be injured again.” My heart wavered slightly. “Did you know that I was trapped on the mountain because of Genevieve…” Rhys instantly erupted. “Skylar Reid! Genevieve has been with me this entire week! Do not try to frame her!” He paused. “I am warning you. Do not say one more bad word about Genevieve!” I lowered my eyes and quietly replied, “Understood.” Just then, a soft, sugary voice cooed from Rhys’s end of the line: “Rhys, my tummy hurts, I need you to rub it.” Rhys immediately hung up. My heart ached fiercely, but not with the sharp, overwhelming pain of before. It was just a dull throb. Moments later, my phone pinged with messages from Genevieve Sinclair. Because my stomach hurt, the medical team had to stay to take care of me. So sorry for your luck. Oh, I forgot to tell you. Rhys and I are having an engagement party next week. Don’t forget to RSVP. She even attached a photo of her hand intertwined with Rhys’s. The massive ring on her finger was blinding. I just found her pathetic. The lack of a medical team was a blessing in disguise. I took the powerful sedative I’d had prepared for weeks. I watched through blurry eyes as the decoy body was consumed by the crematorium flames, then turned and walked away. The next day. Rhys Hawthorne arrived at my hospital room, carrying my favorite strawberry cake. He hadn’t seen me in a month, and he unconsciously adjusted his tie. All that awaited him was an empty room. The attending nurse entered. “Are you the family for Room Two?” “She passed away. The ashes were scattered in the mountains. My condolences.”
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