When my husband, Michael, rescued a young woman from her abusive. boyfriend, he brought her home. He said she had nowhere else to go; her own parents had thrown her out.
A month later, she and I were both pregnant. Both with his child.
I told her to get an abortion. Instead, she drowned herself in our bathtub.
Michael lost his mind. He locked me in our basement, torturing me for weeks. The day my water broke, I begged him to save our baby. He just laughed, his face a mask of pure hatred.
“This is what you both owe them,” he snarled, and watched as my child and I died on the cold concrete floor.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back in our bedroom, on the exact day I found out we were both pregnant.
“Anna, listen to me. Lily is pregnant with my child, too. Her ex forced her to have an abortion before, and it damaged her body. The doctors said this pregnancy is a medical miracle. Can you really live with yourself if you force her to terminate it, destroying her only chance to ever be a mother?”
0614
Michael’s angry voice jolted me back to reality. I was alive. I had been
reborn.
In my previous life, Michael, a former Navy SEAL who now ran a high- end private security firm, had found Lily during a job. He’d rescued some corporate executive’s wife from a kidnapping and stumbled upon Lily, the executive’s battered and terrified mistress, locked in a closet. He brought her home, claiming it was a temporary act of charity.
But Lily’s adoptive parents were long dead, and her biological parents wanted nothing to do with her. The day he tried to send her on her way, she had a “depressive episode” and tried to jump from our balcony. Michael, ever the hero, saved her again. He said he had to let her stay.
A month later, we were both pregnant.
