Reborn After They Aborted My Baby and Stole My Womb

Calista's POV

Four months pregnant, I walked into the OB-GYN clinic filled with joy—this was the child Archer and I had waited three years for.

But the moment the ultrasound report was handed to him, his gentle gray eyes twisted violently.

"Abort it. We absolutely cannot keep this child."

My stepfather watched coldly. The stepbrother who doted on me most slapped me hard across the face. My own mother wielded the scalpel and removed my uterus.

Half a month later, they picked me up from the hospital with roses, only to turn around and lock me away, feeding me psychiatric drugs until I died.

Reborn, I thought that as long as I hid the report, I could save my baby.

But they forced me onto the operating table once again.

It wasn't until I saw the report with my own eyes—

That I finally understood why my child had to die.

"Cancel today's meetings. I'm going with my wife to her ultrasound."

Archer hung up the phone and leaned over to buckle my seatbelt in the Porsche. A kiss smelling of cedarwood landed tenderly on my forehead.

"Let's go, let's go see our baby. We've waited three whole years for this little one."

That kiss made me violently shudder.

I suddenly realized I had been reborn. Reborn on the exact day of the ultrasound.

In my past life, it was the same day, the same drive to Monroe Private Hospital.

Married for three years, I was finally pregnant. Archer treated me like royalty—handling every detail of my pregnancy personally and insisting on going to every check-up. I thought I finally had a family of my own.

Until that check-up report was handed to him.

His smiling gray eyes swept over the paper and instantly twisted into unimaginable horror, quickly followed by a bone-chilling disgust.

"Abort it! Schedule the surgery right now—this little freak absolutely cannot stay!"

He threw the report on the ground like a piece of rotting meat, marched over, grabbed my arm, and dragged me toward the operating room.

I cried and struggled, asking him why. Just minutes ago, the doctor said the fetus was developing perfectly—why did he want to kill our child?!

In desperation, I called my mother, Margot, and my stepfather, Theodore.

They arrived at the hospital unnaturally fast. Seeing my saviors, I threw myself into my mother's arms, begging them to stop Archer.

However, when Margot bent down, picked up the shoeprint-covered lab report, and saw the data—her face, which had just been scolding her son-in-law, went dead pale.

Theodore leaned in for a cold glance. The man who always strategized flawlessly in boardrooms suddenly twitched the fingers holding his cigar.

He turned, his gaze landing on my slight bump, his voice chilling to the bone.

"Abort it."

"Yes, this child cannot stay!" Margot didn't hesitate for a second. Her slender fingers clamped onto my arm like steel needles.

I screamed in despair, kneeling on the floor, desperately trying to crawl away. "No—don't hurt my baby—"

That day, the lead surgeon was my mother.

She even forged a consent form citing "ectopic pregnancy with severe hemorrhagic shock"—and completely removed my uterus.

I lay in the ICU for a full half month.

The day I was discharged, Archer came to pick me up with a huge bouquet of champagne roses. Theodore and Margot stood at the hospital door, pretending to care.

"It's all in the past. You two will have a better life moving forward," Theodore smiled affectionately.

On the ride home, the absolute despair finally shattered my sanity.

"Why—what are you all hiding?! What was wrong with my baby?!"

I cried out miserably and lunged at Margot, grabbing her collar.

Margot struck back with two hard slaps, splitting my lip and making my ears ring.

Her eyes were venomous like a snake, her voice low and biting.

"Shut up, you bitch. Archer didn't throw you away, he's willing to keep you in the Lennox family, so you'd better be grateful and live your life. If you ever mention that child again—I'll make you disappear from this city."

I was thrown back into the seat. Archer timely pulled my blood-stained body into his arms, his long fingers stroking the back of my neck with a gentle yet cruel touch.

"Even if we can't have children anymore, you will always be my wife. I will always love you."

By day, he was the flawless elite husband; by night, the warden keeping a prisoner.

He destroyed my nerves with handfuls of psychiatric drugs until I vomited blood and died in that pitch-black master bedroom.

Until my last breath, I never knew what was written on that report.

"Calista? Are you feeling unwell? Why are your hands so cold?"

Archer's voice yanked me out of those piercing memories.

I gripped the edge of the leather seat tightly, swallowing the taste of blood in my throat, forcing a weak but obedient smile.

"Maybe the baby just kicked me."

I looked down, my fingertips brushing ever so lightly over my four-month pregnant belly.

This time.

I will figure out exactly what is going on.