Reborn Heiress: Nothing Left to Lose

"Nicholas, I'm begging you, please stop… If this keeps going, the baby won't survive…"

By the swimming pool at the Stuart Villa, Lisbeth Berkeley—eight months pregnant—hung from the hook of a crane, her wrists and ankles bound with rope. Her body swayed dangerously, on the verge of falling.

Nicholas Stuart flipped through the photographs in his hand, his expression ice-cold. Every single one showed Lisbeth tangled in bed with a different man. Each explicit image sliced through his chest like a blade, cutting deeper with every frame.

"Keep lowering her," he said flatly. "Until she's washed clean."

"No! No!" Lisbeth thrashed wildly, but with her hands and feet bound, she was powerless. The pool swallowed her whole.

Water rushed into her mouth and nose, choking off her air. Worse still, a sharp pain tore through her lower abdomen. She twisted and contorted her body, but she couldn't protect the child inside her.

When the hook hauled her up again, Lisbeth coughed violently, gasping in ragged breaths. Tears and chlorinated water streamed from her eyes down to her lips.

She stared at Nicholas, her face a mask of despair. "Nicholas, I've told you—those photos are fake. Adalyn fabricated them. Why won't you believe me?"

Nicholas finally lifted his gaze to meet hers. His handsome face was utterly blank. His eyes were dead.

"Why should I believe you?" He hurled a sheet of paper at her face. "See for yourself."

Lisbeth looked down and saw the bold heading: 'Paternity Test Report.' The results concluded that Nicholas Stuart had no biological relationship to the fetus she carried.

No. This was impossible.

Since the day she married Nicholas, he was the only man in her life. How could this baby not be his?

Lisbeth shook her head frantically and screamed, "It was Adalyn! She kidnapped me and took me to a deserted island! She tried to have men assault me, and when that failed, she forged this paternity report!"

"Shut up!" Nicholas cut her off, his voice like a whip crack. He seized a fistful of her hair and wrenched her head back, his face twisted with rage. "You did something this disgusting, and you still have the nerve to frame Adalyn? While I was in a coma, Adalyn stayed at the hospital for three months taking care of me. And you? You were moaning in another man's bed!"

"That's not what happened… I was the one taking care of you…" Lisbeth choked out between sobs.

But no matter how she explained, Nicholas refused to believe a word.

Six months ago, Nicholas had been in a devastating car accident and lay comatose in his hospital bed.

That was when Lisbeth discovered she was pregnant. Despite the risk to her own health, she stayed by his bedside day and night. But just as Nicholas began showing signs of waking, she was kidnapped—stripped naked and photographed.

Her captors brought in seven or eight men to gang-rape her.

Lisbeth fought back with everything she had. She bit off one man's ear and managed to escape.

When she finally saw daylight again, she found herself stranded on a deserted island. She survived three days and three nights alone before a rescue team found her. She rushed back to the hospital with her last ounce of strength, only to find Nicholas awake—with his foster sister, Adalyn Blair, sitting at his side.

That was when she learned the truth. During her disappearance, Adalyn had taken her place and lied, claiming she had been the one caring for Nicholas all along.

Nicholas had been skeptical at first. But after seeing those doctored photographs, his suspicion turned to blind fury. He threw Lisbeth out and refused to see her again.

"A woman like you—I feel sick just touching you."

Nicholas released her hair and wiped the water from his hand with a tissue, his lip curling in disgust. He ordered the crane lowered again, then watched Lisbeth struggle in the water with an expression that grew colder by the second.

A week ago, he'd learned Lisbeth was pregnant. He secretly obtained a sample of her amniotic fluid and ordered a paternity test.

He'd been naive enough to believe the child was his. But when the results were placed in front of him, he could no longer lie to himself.

The deeper the love had been, the deeper the hatred ran now.

Overwhelming humiliation and rage devoured what remained of Nicholas's reason. He'd had Lisbeth brought here. The sight of her swollen eight-month belly felt like a vicious slap across his face.

Lisbeth was still screaming—her pleas turning to curses. "Nicholas! You're not human! You're a monster! That's your own flesh and blood—how could you—"

Before she could finish, her body plunged beneath the surface again. She tried to fight her way up, but eight months of pregnancy made her heavy as lead. Crushing pain radiated through her chest and abdomen. A bloom of crimson spread from between her legs, staining the pool water red.

Nicholas frowned. He ordered the hook raised.

The moment Lisbeth broke the surface, blood was streaming down her thighs, dripping steadily into the pool below. The sight was shocking.

Something flickered across Nicholas's face. He ordered her untied and lowered from the crane.

"The baby… my baby…"

Lisbeth clutched her stomach, writhing on the ground in agony. She had no strength left, but maternal instinct drove her to shield her child with everything she had.

Nicholas had almost softened. But the moment she mentioned the baby, rage surged through his chest again, and his eyes turned vicious. "Even now, all you can think about is that bastard child! Lisbeth, are you really that shameless? You enjoy carrying some stranger's baby that much?"

Lisbeth couldn't hear him anymore. Her face was ghost-white, her lips blue. She clawed at his pant leg with trembling fingers, her voice barely a whisper. "Nicholas, please… save our baby… I'm begging you…"

Nicholas's gaze hardened. He kicked her square in the stomach, his face savage. "You whore. I'd die before I let you give birth to that bastard."

Lisbeth felt her belly explode with pain. She rolled on the ground, howling and whimpering, but all she got in return was Nicholas's cold stare.

Soon, her body gave out. She lost consciousness.

Nicholas's expression darkened. He gestured to someone behind him. "Get the doctor."

The doctor arrived quickly. After a frantic examination, he looked up at Nicholas, visibly shaking. "Mrs. Stuart's water has broken. She needs to deliver immediately."

Nicholas was silent for several seconds. He stared at Lisbeth lying crumpled in a pool of blood, his jaw tight. "Don't let her die."

Minutes later, the doctor emerged carrying a blood-covered infant. He approached Nicholas and hesitated before speaking. "Mr. Stuart, Mrs. Stuart delivered a girl, but… there are no signs of life."

Nicholas looked at the wrinkled little thing—skin mottled purple, limp and still, like a dead kitten.

"Throw it away. Feed it to the dogs."