Lethal Delivery The Billionaire Saved Me When My Husband Chose His Ex

I was bleeding out on the delivery table. There wasn't enough time to save both of us. The surgeon rushed down the hall, holding a critical notice and shouting, "Where is Evelyn Reed's family?" When the call finally connected, my husband’s voice was laced with pure fury. "Hailey’s son has a fever, and she can't handle it alone. Don't bother me with this right now!" "Save the baby. The baby is all that matters." In that exact second, every last shred of my love for him died. My hands trembled violently as I signed the consent form myself. I chose my own life. When they finally wheeled me out of the OR, Julian Vance was the only one standing outside. His eyes were bloodshot. I looked up at his devastated face and whispered, "If you don't mind a broken, divorced woman... take me away." "I'll take you." Julian's voice shook, but his gaze was unshakeable. The attending doctor walked over with a solemn expression. "The patient just survived a massive hemorrhage. Her body is in a critical, fragile state. She cannot be moved. Complete rest is non-negotiable." Julian looked down at my colorless face, the rims of his eyes burning red. "Move her to the best VIP suite on the top floor. Get the top private care team," he ordered his assistant behind him. "Do it right now. Move!" In less than thirty minutes, I was transferred to the presidential recovery suite. It was so quiet it felt completely cut off from the rest of the world. There was no harsh smell of bleach, only the faint, soothing scent of lavender. Julian stepped up to the edge of the bed and gently tucked the blanket around my shoulders. His phone buzzed relentlessly against his pocket. His assistant hovered by the door, frantic. "Mr. Vance, our overseas branch is having a massive crisis. Your flight is already delayed. You have to leave right now." Julian declined the call and looked down at me, his eyes filled with agonizing regret. "Eve, I have an urgent matter I must handle personally. I'll be back as fast as I can." He paused, his voice deepening. "I’ve arranged a private caregiver. Rest and heal while I’m gone. Don't worry about anything." The door swung open, and a middle-aged woman in a crisp, clean uniform walked in. She carried herself with quiet efficiency, and her eyes were kind. Julian nodded toward her. "This is Martha. She’s top-tier and highly experienced. She won't leave your side for a second." Then, he turned to Martha. His gentle expression vanished, replaced by a chilling edge. "Martha, remember my instructions. If Evelyn’s husband shows up, do not let him in." "No matter what he says, he does not take a single step toward her." "Everything waits until I get back." Martha blinked in surprise, then nodded firmly. "Understood, Mr. Vance. You can trust me." Julian took one last long look at me before turning around and striding out of the room. As the door clicked shut, absolute silence fell over the room. I lay on the soft mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling. Six months ago, Derek Collins suddenly brought Hailey and her little boy home. He had said, "This is my ex. I only just found out she was pregnant with my child when we broke up years ago." "She was a single mother. She carried him alone and raised him through sheer misery." "I didn't know back then. But now that I do, as the boy's father, it is my duty to take care of them." From that day on, his eyes only ever saw that mother and son. Martha walked over softly. "Mrs. Collins—ma'am, try to get some sleep. If you need anything at all, just tell me." I gave a slight nod and closed my eyes. The next two days were completely peaceful. Just as expected, Derek never showed up. He was still playing the dutiful father at the bedside of Hailey's sick kid. He couldn't care less whether I lived or died. Good. It spared me the disgust of looking at his face. Martha took exceptional care of me. Every few hours, she gently wiped me down and helped me shift positions to ease the pain. She never pried. She just did her job with quiet compassion. On the third morning, bright sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting warm stripes across my sheets. I finally found enough strength to sit up against the pillows. The throbbing ache in my abdomen served as a sharp reminder of the nightmare I had just survived. I dialed my lawyer's number. "Arthur, it's me. Evelyn." "Draft the divorce papers. I want them ready as fast as possible." A brief silence hung on the other end of the line before Arthur Miller’s steady voice answered: "Evelyn, are you certain? With your current physical state..." "I'm completely certain," I cut him off, my voice dead calm. "I am divorcing him. No matter what." I hung up and turned my gaze toward the window. A withered yellow leaf detached from a branch, twirling through the wind before falling to the pavement. Out with the old. In with the new. I lightly rested my palm against my flat belly. There used to be a little life inside me. *I'm so sorry, my baby. But Mommy will never let that monster hurt us ever again.* The door suddenly swung open. Martha walked in carrying a bowl of steaming warm oatmeal. "You're awake! Have some warm porridge to settle your stomach." I took the bowl and had a small spoonful. A soothing warmth spread through my chest. In that moment, I was overwhelmingly grateful that I was still alive."This is a private VIP suite. Unauthorized visitors are not allowed." Martha’s voice rang out from the entrance, sharp and unyielding. "I am her husband! Who the hell do you think you are to block me?" A familiar, furious roar echoed into the room. Derek. Before I could even process it, the door was slammed open, banging violently against the wall with a deafening thud. Derek stormed into the room, his face twisted in rage. He had clearly rushed over the second he heard the news. He hadn't even bothered to change his wrinkled clothes. Martha hurried in right behind him, visibly stressed. "Sir, you cannot barge in! The patient needs absolute rest!" Derek whipped around, thrusting a finger right in Martha's face. "Get the hell out! You're just a hired hand paid by the hour. You don't get a say in my private family matters!" Martha flushed red with anger, but she refused to back down, planting herself directly between him and my bed. "I don't care who you are. Mr. Vance gave strict orders. No one is to disturb Evelyn." "Mr. Vance? Which Mr. Vance? You must be out of your damn mind!" Derek shoved Martha aside with brute force and marched straight to my bedside. He loomed over me, looking down with cold disgust. Not a single word of concern. Only harsh accusations. "Evelyn, how could you be so heartless?" "That was our baby! A living human being! And you just threw its life away like that?" I leaned against the headboard, my face pale as chalk. Breathing alone sent sharp pangs through my chest. Looking at his twisted, ugly features, I felt nothing. No heartbreak. No grief. Only pure, unadulterated revulsion. "When the surgeon asked you whether to save me or the baby, what did you choose?" Derek glared at me, his eyes burning with resentment. I parted my lips, my voice raspy like sandpaper. "I chose to save myself." "And you have the audacity to say it out loud!" Derek slammed his palm onto the metal bed rail, rattling the IV needle taped to the back of my hand. "Leo had a burning fever! Hailey was crying and begging me to stay by his side! How could I just leave them?" "You knew damn well how much I cared about our baby, but you just had to be petty and jealous of Hailey! You murdered our child with your own hands!" Twisting reality. Flipping right and wrong. This was the man I had loved for three whole years. "Derek Collins, are you even human?" Martha couldn't stand it anymore. She shouted from the side, trembling with fury. "Your wife barely clawed her way back from the edge of death! She nearly bled out on that table! Instead of caring for her, you barge in here and scream at her?" "What kind of garbage excuse is that? Another woman's kid has a fever, so you abandon your dying wife to play hero? You call yourself a man?" Hit where it hurt, Derek snapped around, glaring murderously at Martha. "Shut your damn mouth! Who gave you permission to speak?" He snapped back to me, the disdain in his eyes thickening. "Look at the trash you hired, Evelyn. Completely undisciplined!" "And look at you, lying there pretending to be dead. Who are you putting on a show for?" "It was just a miscarriage! Do you really have to be this dramatic? Hailey had a child and she wasn't half as fragile or troublesome as you!" I clutched the edge of the blanket, my fingernails digging into the fabric until my knuckles turned white. "Nothing to say? Feeling guilty now?" Seeing that I didn't snap back, Derek leaned in further, his index finger nearly poking into the bridge of my nose. "Let me make something clear. Don't think for a second that staying in a VIP suite gives you leverage over me." "Losing this child is entirely your fault! You better take a good hard look in the mirror and reflect on what you've done. Stop throwing these ridiculous tantrums. You're making a fool of yourself!" I took a slow, deep breath and locked my eyes onto his. "A tantrum?" I repeated the word softly, a bitter, mocking smirk curving on my lips. "Derek, did you conveniently forget what you were doing when the doctor handed you my emergency notice?" Derek's expression froze. He clearly hadn't expected me to push back. "Don't you dare bring that up!" He looked away, momentarily cornered, before his arrogant self-righteousness flared back up. "I had an emergency! Hailey needed me! That little boy is innocent!" "Then what are you doing here right now? If you care so damn much about Hailey's kid, roll your ass back there and keep worshipping them." My stare was cold enough to freeze blood. Every word sliced like an icicle. Pushed past his limit, Derek raised his hand, ready to strike my face. "You venomous bitch, how dare you—" Martha screamed, lunging forward to throw herself over me. "Sir! What do you think you're doing? This is a hospital!" Derek's hand hung frozen in mid-air. He glared venomously at me, chest heaving, before finally dropping his arm. "Fine, Evelyn. You think you're tough." With a vicious curse, Derek slammed the door and stormed out.That afternoon, Martha went down to the kitchen to fetch my prescribed broth, leaving the room momentarily empty. That was when my next uninvited guests arrived. This time, it was Hailey. She was leading five-year-old Leo by the hand, carrying an insulated thermos in the other. The second she crossed the threshold, her tear-rimmed eyes locked onto me, wearing that signature, sickeningly fragile expression. "Evelyn, I heard you finally woke up. I made some soup especially for you." She set the thermos down on the nightstand and delicately unscrewed the lid. A heavy, pungent smell hit the air—a greasy chicken broth coated with a thick, yellow layer of chicken fat. The grease was so thick it turned my stomach instantly. I frowned, instinctively turning my face away. Hailey acted as if she didn't notice my disgust. She dipped a spoon into the broth and brought it toward my lips. "You poor thing. You couldn't even keep your own baby, and your body must be completely depleted." "I simmered this broth for five whole hours. It's packed with nutrients. Drink it while it's hot." Her words sounded dripping with concern, but the glint in her eyes was pure, malicious triumph. Little Leo scurried over to the edge of the bed. He stared with wide, insolent eyes, pointing directly at my flat stomach, and burst into a shrill, piercing laugh. "Mommy, look! The bad lady's tummy is completely deflated, just like a popped balloon!" "She's a wicked auntie! She made Daddy mad! She deserved to have her baby die!" My face went completely cold. For a five-year-old child to spout something so vicious, this wasn't childhood innocence. This was groomed malice. Hailey made a theatrical show of tapping the boy lightly on his bottom. "Leo, stop that! That’s rude. Auntie is just sick." She chided him with her mouth, while a smirk spread across her lips. "Evelyn, please don't take it to heart. He’s just a child, he doesn't know any better." "Even though you lost your baby this time, I'm sure you can always have another one later. Don't be too sad." This wasn't comfort. It was twisting a knife into my open wound. Just then, the door swung open again. It was Derek. The moment he saw Hailey and Leo standing there, the scowl on his face melted into tender warmth. "Hailey? What are you doing here? Did Leo's fever break?" Hailey instantly lowered the spoon, her eyes brimming with fresh tears, instantly assuming the role of the bullied victim. "Derek... Leo's fever broke, and I was just so worried about Evelyn. After all, she went through all this because of us..." "I simmered chicken soup for five hours, but... it seems she doesn't want to drink anything I make." Derek turned his gaze toward me. Seeing me lying there with my eyes shut, completely ignoring them, his face darkened instantly. "Evelyn, didn't you hear Hailey talking to you?" "She went out of her way to bring you homemade soup, and you give her this rotten attitude?" I opened my eyes, staring at him with dead silence. Feeling his pride challenged, Derek strode to the bedside, snatched the spoon right out of Hailey's hand, and leaned over me. "Evelyn, I know exactly what kind of game you're playing." "Leo’s fever was a real emergency. It was life or death! As an adult, couldn't you show a tiny shred of understanding?" "Now she comes here out of the goodness of her heart, and you give her the cold shoulder?" "Apologize to Hailey right now!" He pointed straight at Hailey, his tone commanding. "Say you're sorry, drink this soup, and we’ll consider this matter closed." I looked down at the bowl swimming with thick, nauseating yellow oil. Bile rose in my throat. "I'm not drinking it." Derek’s rage erupted instantly. He slammed the spoon back into the bowl, sending greasy broth splashing across the nightstand and sheets. "You won't drink it? If you don't drink it, it means you're refusing her apology! It means you're still holding a petty grudge!" "Evelyn, can you stop being so goddamn selfish? Does this entire family have to walk on eggshells around you?" "Leo is just a little kid! You're a grown woman, and you're picking a fight with a toddler?" Hailey stood beside him, a barely perceptible smirk playing on her lips. She tugged gently at Derek’s sleeve, speaking in an angelic, breathy voice. "Derek, please, don't... Evelyn is hurting, it's natural she's in a bad mood. I shouldn't have come and caused trouble."Derek had completely lost his mind. He picked up the bowl coated with thick chicken fat and shoved it directly against my lips. "Drink it!" I jerked my head to the side, fighting him off weakly. "The doctor explicitly said I just started passing gas. My bowels can't handle grease. Consuming fat right now will kill me!" "Stop using doctors to hide behind your drama!" Derek sneered, his eyes filled with impatient disgust. "You're just being precious. Since when did you turn into such a fragile princess?" "Hailey spent five hours making this for you. Refusing it is spitting in her face!" As he spoke, he shoved the spoon forward again, pressing it hard against my lips. The rancid, greasy stench made my stomach violently heave. I clamped my mouth shut, glaring at him with pure hatred. This man genuinely didn't care if I died. Right at that second, Martha hurried through the door holding a food container. The moment she saw what was happening, she dropped the container, rushed forward, and grabbed Derek's wrist in sheer panic. "Sir! Stop! You can't do that!" "That soup is pure oil! Her body cannot digest this after major surgery! Forcing it down will kill her!" Derek shoved her away with violent force, completely deaf to reason. "Get the fuck out of my way!" "You're a paid servant, you don't dictate my marriage!" He shoved her so hard that Martha stumbled backward and fell heavily out into the hallway. Before she could even scramble to her feet, Derek lunged forward and slammed the door shut with a thunderous bang. Then came the sharp click of the lock. *Click.* From outside, Martha’s frantic pounding and screams echoed against the wood. "Open the door! Open it right now! She cannot have that!" "Somebody help! Security!" Inside the suite, Derek had created his own isolated chamber of horrors. He turned around, his eyes blazing with fury as he stared at me. "Are you going to drink it or not?" I gritted my teeth, staring in sheer despair at the man I had shared a bed with for three years. His face was contorted into a monstrous sneer. There was nothing human left in him. Seeing that I refused to open my mouth, Derek reached out and clamped his hand around my jaw like a vise. His fingers dug into my bone, squeezing so hard I felt my jaw would shatter. The blinding pain forced my mouth open. "Ah—!" The moment my mouth parted, he shoved the spoon deep inside. Scalding, greasy chicken broth surged down my throat. The thick oil immediately flooded my airway. The sensation of choking triggered an uncontrollable, violent spasm through my entire body. "Cough—cough! Cough—!" I hacked violently, desperately trying to purge the liquid. Every single cough violently pulled at the freshly stitched incision across my abdomen. It felt as though a serrated knife was twisting inside my gut, sending cold sweat pouring down my forehead. And amidst the horror, a high-pitched, mocking laugh cut through the room. "Yay! So funny! The bad auntie is choking!" "Go Daddy! Choke her to death!" Leo stood by the bed, clapping his little hands with pure, sadistic glee. He pointed at me writhing in agonizing pain on the mattress, as if he were watching a fascinating toy break. Hailey stood beside him, arms crossed over her chest, watching with cold detachment. "Cough... Derek... are you trying... to murder me..." I managed to choke out the words through gasps of air, my vision swimming in black spots. "Murder? I'm teaching you basic manners!" "Stop faking it. Drink the rest!" He scooped up another overflowing spoonful and shoved it toward my mouth again.That second spoonful of scalding, oily broth was shoved down my throat, triggering a violent rejection from my battered body. "Blegh—!" My torso bent in an uncontrollable arch as I violently vomited up everything that had just been forced into me. The agonizing throbbing at my surgical wound suddenly turned into a blinding, searing tear—as if someone had taken both hands and ripped my flesh wide open. I could clearly feel a rush of warm, sticky liquid pouring uncontrollably between my thighs. "Disgusting." Derek took a step back in sheer revulsion, avoiding the mess on the sheets. He still held the empty bowl, his gaze dripping with mockery. "How long are you going to keep up this pathetic act? You think playing sick is going to fool me?" I gasped for air, chest heaving, my face completely drained of color. Cold sweat drenched my hair. Pure survival instinct drove me to use the very last ounce of strength I had left. With trembling fingers, I reached toward the emergency call button on the nightstand. Just push it. The doctors would come. However, the second my fingertip grazed the plastic button, a heavy hand slammed down, pinning my wrist. Derek violently shoved my hand aside with enough force to snap the bone. "Cut the crap!" "Putting on a whole theatrical scene just to avoid drinking soup? And now you want to call the doctors to back up your little tantrum?" He loomed over me, disgust and irritation etched across every line of his face. "Let me tell you something: until you finish every drop of the soup Hailey made and apologize to her, this isn't over!" A wave of suffocating despair pulled me under. My vision grew dark around the edges, and a deafening high-pitched whine filled my ears. "Evelyn, just stop fighting it," Hailey murmured, holding Leo's hand as she watched from the side. "Just drink it and say you're sorry. Derek won't be mad anymore." "Look at you, getting the sheets all filthy. It's so gross." Little Leo clapped his hands, jumping up and down with laughter. "The bad lady threw up! The bad lady is gonna die!" This wasn't the human world. This was hell. I could feel the warmth rapidly draining from my limbs. My eyelids felt like lead. Was I really going to die here? Murdered by the very man I had loved for three years? Killed over a bowl of soup, because of an absurd lie made up for another woman and her child? I couldn't accept this. I had survived the delivery table. I had already decided to start my life over. Julian... The man who promised to take me away... I might not be able to wait for him after all. Just as Derek raised the bowl to force-feed me a third time— *BAM—!* A deafening explosion echoed through the room. The locked, heavy wooden door was violently kicked off its frame by a massive, brutal force. The door slammed against the concrete wall with a bone-rattling crash. In that fraction of a second, the air inside the room froze solid. Derek flinched in terror, dropping the bowl. It shattered into a hundred jagged pieces on the floor. Hailey shrieked, instinctively pulling her child behind her. Standing in the doorway was a tall, imposing figure, his silhouette dark against the light. It was Julian. He had come back.