My Baby, Your Cure

My name is Wendy Smith.
This afternoon, at the door of my mother Viola Smith's bedroom, I found a crumpled payment slip.
The numbers on the bill made my fingertips go numb—1.2 million dollars, paid to the obstetrics department of a private hospital in City A, with the item listed as Premium Fetal Preservation Package.
I was carrying my first child, just past six months.
Earlier, my mother Viola Smith said she had arranged the best fetal preservation service for me, and I thought it meant routine prenatal care.
1.2 million—far beyond the bounds of ordinary care.
Clutching the bill, my heart pounded as if it might burst through my chest.
I quietly pushed the door open a crack.
Viola was on the phone, her voice low, but I caught every single word.
"Dr. Hemsworth, don't worry. I've already transferred the money."
"As long as we can ensure the fetus's bone marrow matches Christopher's, I'm willing to increase the subsequent fees."
"I will keep a close watch on Wendy. She must not find out."
Christopher Smith is my younger brother. He suffers from severe aplastic anemia and needs a bone marrow transplant to survive.
My mind buzzed violently, as if struck by a heavy hammer.
It turns out the 1.2 million prenatal care package was never truly meant for me or the baby.
It was intended to use the bone marrow of the child in my womb to save Christopher.
I instinctively reached toward my lower abdomen.
The little one inside seemed to sense my emotions and suddenly began to move violently.
It wasn't the usual gentle kicking; it was a desperate, frantic twisting.
A sharp pain bent me double, sweat breaking cold on my forehead.
"What's wrong?" Viola hung up the phone, opened the door, and when she saw me, a flicker of panic flashed in her eyes before she returned to her usual cold indifference.
"The baby... the baby is moving very violently." I clutched my belly, my voice trembling.
Viola furrowed her brow, reached out to touch my belly, and her expression suddenly changed.
"There's bleeding!" She pointed at my pants, her voice urgent but without a trace of panic. "Get to the hospital right away!"
On the way to the hospital, I sat in the back seat, feeling the pain in my lower abdomen intensify, the bleeding growing heavier by the minute.
I knew the child was protesting.
At the hospital, after an emergency examination, the doctor spoke to Viola with a grave expression: "The situation is critical. The pregnant woman is experiencing severe hemorrhaging, and the fetus shows signs of hypoxia. Surgery must be performed immediately. There are two options now: save the mother or save the fetus."
My heart tightened, hoping that Viola would choose to protect me.
After all, I am her daughter.
But Viola didn't hesitate and blurted out, "Protect the fetus! It must be fetus!"
The doctor was stunned, instinctively glancing at me.
I lay on the hospital bed, my whole body icy cold.
It turned out that in her eyes, I was worth less than an unborn child.
That child was nothing more than a tool to save Christopher.
"No!" I shouted with all my strength, "I am the child's mother; I choose to protect myself!"
Viola turned her head, her eyes like a poisoned blade: "Wendy, how dare you! Christopher is still waiting for bone marrow to survive. This child cannot be harmed!"
"He is my child! Not Christopher's life-saving tool!" I sobbed, protesting.
"Your life was given by me; your child should contribute to my home too!" Viola said harshly, ignoring my pleas.
The doctor stood between us, torn: "Mrs. Smith, this violates medical ethics. The pregnant woman's safety is equally important..."
"Ethics? What ethics can value more than my son's life!" Viola cut the doctor off, pulling a card from her bag. "I'll add another 500,000 dollars. You must protect the fetus!"
The doctor's face darkened. "Mrs. Smith, please calm down. The surgical plan must honor the pregnant woman's wishes, and under the current circumstances, protecting the pregnant woman is more likely to succeed... "
"I don't care!" Viola slammed the table fiercely. "Today, you must save the fetus! Otherwise, I will lodge a formal complaint against your hospital!"
The atmosphere in the ward immediately plunged into a chilling silence.
I stared at Viola's contorted face and, for the first time, felt how unfamiliar she seemed to me.
This is my mother.
For her son, she is willing to sacrifice both her daughter and her unborn grandchild.
The pain in my lower abdomen intensified, and I felt my consciousness slipping away, little by little.
The baby was still moving, as if pleading for help from me.
I couldn't let anyone hurt him.
Nor could I let others hurt me.

I was pushed into the observation room.
Viola stood guard at the door, preventing others coming near me.
I knew she would never abandon the plan to use the child to save Christopher.
I had to find a way to resist.
Staring at the glass on the bedside table, a desperate thought took root in my mind.
I grabbed the glass and smashed it hard against the corner of the wall.
Shards exploded everywhere.
I picked up a sharp shard and, without hesitation, sliced it across my arm.
Blood immediately gushed out, staining the white hospital gown red.
"Wendy! What are you doing?" Viola heard the noise and rushed in, her face pale when she saw my arm.
"If you won't let me live, then I'll die for you!" I held the fragments up, my gaze unwavering. "If you keep forcing me, I'll kill the baby too!"
Viola was terrified by the sight of me. She stepped forward to snatch the fragments away but dared not come closer.
"You're crazy!" She screamed. "The fetus is Christopher's sole hope! How can you be so selfish!"
"Selfish?" I sneered coldly, "For Christopher, you want to sacrifice me and my child—aren't you being selfish?"
The nurse heard the noise and rushed in; seeing my wound, she quickly brought gauze and disinfectant.
"Hurry and dress the wound!" the nurse said as she wrapped my hand, speaking to Viola, "The pregnant woman is emotionally fragile right now! Can you stop upsetting her?"
Viola gritted her teeth and glared at me with hatred, but said nothing more.
I knew that this act of defiance had made a difference.
But I also knew Viola would not let it go so easily.
Sure enough, the next day, Viola brought me a bowl of seafood porridge.
"The doctor said you need to boost your nutrition, so I made this porridge for you." She wore a false smile on her face.
I looked at the shrimp and crab in the bowl, and my heart sank.
I am severely allergic to seafood.
When I was a child, I ate a shrimp and nearly choked to death.
It's obvious that my mother Viola have known this.
Was she trying to trigger my allergy, to provoke a rejection reaction, and thus justify bringing the surgery forward?
I stifled the anger rising inside me and took the bowl of porridge.
"Mom, you're so kind." I feigned being moved, picked up the spoon, but the moment she turned away, I poured the porridge into the trash can.
I knew I couldn't let her plan succeed.
That afternoon, I felt my skin start to itch, followed by patches of redness and swelling.
My heart skipped a beat.
Could it be that I accidentally came into contact with seafood after all?
I quickly called the nurse.
After examining me, the nurse frowned and said, "These are symptoms of a seafood allergy. What's going on? Didn't you say you hadn't eaten any seafood?"
"I don't know..." I feigned innocence, but my eyes flicked toward the door.
Viola happened to walk in at that moment; seeing my expression, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Did the nurse give you something to eat?" Viola immediately confronted the nurse, "My daughter is allergic to seafood. Didn't you know?"
The nurse looked aggrieved. "We didn't give her any seafood. She must have accidentally come into contact with it herself."
"That's impossible!" Viola persisted. "I will file a complaint against you!"
I watched Viola put on her act, a cold sneer rising in my heart.
She just wanted to shift the responsibility onto the hospital, then use this chance to change doctors and carry out her plan ahead of schedule.
At night, Christopher came to see me.
He sat by the hospital bed, looking at me with eyes full of guilt.
"Sis, I'm sorry." He said softly, "Mom shouldn't have forced you."
My heart softened.
Christopher wasn't really a bad person; he was just spoiled by Viola and had long suffered from illness, which made him somewhat weak and timid.
"It's not your fault." I stroked his head. "Focus on yourself. Don't worry about anything else."
But I never expected Christopher's next words to chill me to the bone.
"Sis, I know you don't want to use the child to save me." Christopher's voice was low but clear. "But I really don't want to die... Mom said that if the cesarean section is done early, the child's bone marrow can be used, and the doctor said the baby can survive at seven months..."
I looked at Christopher in disbelief.
So he was involved in this plan too.
They—my mother and my brother—were conspiring to take my child's life.
"Christopher, that's my child!" I said, my voice trembling. "How can you think like that?"
Christopher lowered his head, unable to meet my eyes. "Sis, I know I'm selfish, but I really don't wan to die..."
I closed my eyes, unwilling to look at him any longer.
In that moment, I felt the bond between us had shattered completely.
That night, I had a dream.
In the dream, I saw a tiny baby, pierced all over with needle marks, crying with a heart-wrenching sob.
"Mom, Mom, save me." The baby stretched out a tiny hand. "They're stabbing me with needles. It hurts so much..."
I jolted awake, drenched in sweat.
That baby, the child in my womb, is revealing the truth to me.
Viola and the hospital staff are actually piercing my child with needles!
Is it to stimulate the fetus, to make his bone marrow more active? Or is it for some other dark purpose?
I clenched my fists, a storm of anger and fear raging inside me.
I must find evidence quickly and expose their conspiracy.

Early the next morning, Viola stormed into the ward holding a document.
"Wendy, sign this." She thrust a piece of document before me. "This is the consent form for a forced cesarean section. The doctor says, given your current condition, surgery must be performed immediately."
I picked up the document, which boldly stated, "Due to the pregnant woman's physical discomfort, and to ensure the fetus's safety, consent is given for a forced cesarean section."
At the bottom, my signature was required.
"I won't sign!" I threw the document back. "I am in good health and don't need surgery!"
"Don't say I didn't warn you!" Viola's face turned grim. "Yesterday, your allergic reaction already affected the fetus. If this is delayed any longer, the child won't survive!"
"It's better if the child doesn't survive!" I blurted out. "That's better than being regarded as a tool!"
"What did you say?" Viola raised her hand, ready to strike me.
I closed my eyes, bracing for the slap.
But the slap never came.
I opened my eyes to see my husband, Morgan Chambers, standing in the doorway, his face pale as he gripped Viola's wrist.
"Mom, what are you trying to do?" Morgan's voice was icy. "Wendy is pregnant; you can't hit her!"
Seeing Morgan, Viola's arrogance immediately deflated.
"I... I was just too anxious," she stammered. She let go and defended herself, "Wendy refuses the surgery; it'll endanger the baby."
"When it comes to the surgery, we must listen to Wendy." Morgan came to my side and took my hand. "Besides, the doctor said that Wendy and the baby are both stable now; there's no need for an early surgery."
Viola tried to say something more, but Morgan gave her a cold look. "Mom, if you keep pressuring Wendy, I'll call the police."
Viola shot me a fierce glare before turning and walking away.
I leaned into Morgan's embrace, tears streaming down uncontrollably.
Thank God he's here with me.
But I know Viola won't give up that easily.
Sure enough, that afternoon, Dr. Hemsworth entered the ward accompanied by several nurses.
"Ms. Smith," Dr. Hemsworth said, pushing up his glasses with a grave tone, "According to your medical report, your placental function has started to decline. Continuing the pregnancy now carries risks. We strongly recommend an immediate cesarean section."
"I don't believe it!" I snapped. "Yesterday's report said both the baby and I were stable!"
"The situation changed suddenly." Dr. Hemsworth took out a new medical report. "Look, this is the result from this morning's examination."
I took the report; I couldn't understand the medical terms, but the conclusion clearly stated, "Termination of pregnancy is immediately recommended."
"This can't be true!" I was certain the report was fake, forged in collusion between Viola and Dr. Hemsworth.
"Ms. Smith, please cooperate with us." The nurse behind Dr. Hemsworth stepped forward and tried to pull me away.
"Don't come near me!" I gripped Morgan's hand tightly. "You can't touch me without my consent!"
Morgan stood before me and said to Dr. Hemsworth, "We demand a re-examination, and it must be done at a different hospital."
"No!" Dr. Hemsworth's expression darkened. "The situation is urgent, and there's no time to transfer to another hospital!"
At that moment, Viola entered once more, holding a document in her hand.
"Wendy, look closely. This is the consent form for a forced cesarean section that I signed as your guardian." Viola said with a smug smile, "Even if you refuse, the hospital can perform the surgery against your will."
I stared at the document, feeling the ground shift beneath me.
She actually used the authority of a guardian to force me!
"You're not my guardian! I'm an adult now!" I shouted, my voice hoarse.
"You are pregnant now, your emotions are unstable, and as your mother, I have the right to make decisions for you." Viola's words cut into my heart like a blade.
Dr. Hemsworth waved his hand, and the nurses immediately stepped forward, pinning me down on the hospital bed.
Morgan tried to stop them but was held back by two male nurses.
"Let go of me! You criminals!" I struggled desperately, but it was no use.
They administered local anesthesia to me.
I could feel the sharp pain of the scalpel cutting into my abdomen, yet I was completely unable to move.
I can hear the conversation between the doctor and the nurse.
"The fetus's heartbeat is very weak."
"Find the umbilical cord right now."
"Oh no! The umbilical cord is wrapped around the neck!"
"How many times is it wrapped?"
"Seven times! How could it be wrapped so many times?"
My heart suddenly tightened in my throat.
With the umbilical cord wrapped seven times around its neck, there's no possibility for the baby to survive.
Is it the child's own choice?
He would rather die than become Christopher's lifesaving tool?
Tears silently streamed down my face, dripping onto the surgery form.
"Oh no... my child... " I whispered to myself.
After a while, the nurse came over holding a tiny infant.
"She's a girl, but there are no signs of life." The nurse's voice was heavy with regret.
I stared at that tiny body, cold all over.
My daughter.
Before I could even take one last look, she slipped away from me.
Viola's face went pale the moment she saw the child had stopped breathing.
"How could this happen?" She grabbed Dr. Hemsworth by the collar. "You said there would be no problem. Where is my grandchild? Where is Christopher's hope?"
Dr. Hemsworth was flustered: "I don't know either... The umbilical cord was wrapped around the neck seven times. It was an accident..."
"An accident?" Viola loosened her grip and collapsed onto the floor. "My 1.2 million dollars, my hope... it's all gone..."
I looked at Viola's shattered state without a shred of sympathy in my heart.
This was the punishment she deserved.
After the surgery ended, I was pushed back to the ward.
Morgan stayed by my side the entire time, constantly comforting me.
But I knew the wound in my heart would never heal.
The next day, Viola returned to the ward.
She held a new agreement in her hand and threw it in front of me.
"Wendy, sign this." Her eyes were filled with menace. "This is a reproduction agreement; you must get pregnant again to save Christopher."
I picked up the agreement. It read, "Wendy agrees to get pregnant again after her body has recovered, and to use the fetus's bone marrow for Christopher's transplant surgery."
"I won't sign it." I tore the agreement to shreds. "I will never let my child become a sacrifice for you and Christopher again. Never."
Viola was stunned; she hadn't expected me to be so resolute.
"Wendy, don't push me!" she said through gritted teeth, "If you don't sign, I will..."
"What will you do?" I stared at her, eyes as cold as ice. "Call the police? Or kill me? Go ahead, try it."
Viola looked at me with fierce resolve, but in the end, she couldn't bring herself to issue the threat and turned away.
I knew this battle was far from over.

After my daughter left, I lay in the hospital bed, crying for three whole days.
Morgan stayed by my side the entire time, wiping my tears and feeding me.
He said, "Wendy, we can't stay trapped in sorrow forever. Viola and Dr. Hemsworth made mistakes, and they must pay the price."
I looked at Morgan and nodded.
Yes, I can't just let this go.
I want to seek justice for my daughter.
From that day on, I began gathering evidence.
I remembered that earlier in the ward, to prevent Viola from tampering, I had secretly installed a pinhole camera.
I asked Morgan to remove the camera and extract the footage.
The video clearly recorded the conversations between Viola and Dr. Hemsworth.
"As long as the fetus's bone marrow matches Christopher's, no matter what method is used, it's acceptable."
"The fetal protection injection already contains medication that stimulates the fetus's bone marrow growth."
"If Wendy refuses the surgery, they will forge medical reports and carry out forced surgery."
I also remember the image of a nurse injecting needles into my belly.
Those needles were used to inject medicine into the fetus.
My heart ached as if it had been pierced by needles.
So all along, they have been abusing my child.
I also found the payment slip Viola gave me earlier, along with the transfer records between her and Dr. Hemsworth.
Morgan, help me organize this evidence and print it out.
"Let's hand this evidence over to the police first." Morgan said, "I've also contacted the media. I want Viola and Dr. Hemsworth's actions to be exposed to the world."
The next day, Morgan took the evidence to the police station.
After reviewing the evidence, the police immediately launched an investigation.
At the same time, Morgan gave part of the evidence to the media.
Soon, the news titled "Mother spends 1.2 million to protect the fetus, intending to use fetal bone marrow to save her son, resulting in fetal death" spread across the internet.
Netizens were furious.
"This mother is just too cruel! She actually treated her own daughter and grandson as mere tools!"
"The private hospital is so heartless; for money, they colluded with people in such unethical acts!"
"The perpetrator must be severely punished! Justice must be served for the pregnant woman and the fetus!"
Viola's phone was flooded with calls from netizens, and reporters swarmed her doorstep.
She dared not leave the house and could only hide inside.
The police also summoned Viola and Dr. Hemsworth for questioning.
Faced with the police inquiry, Viola at first tried to make excuses.
"I just want to save my son—I did nothing wrong!"
"It was Wendy's refusal to cooperate that caused the child's death!"
But when the police presented the video and the transfer records, Viola was left speechless and sank into a chair.
Dr. Hemsworth was also placed under investigation by the relevant authorities.
The inquiry revealed that he not only accepted money from Viola but also committed multiple violations.
The hospital's obstetrics department was suspended pending further investigation.
Viola was condemned online and met with scorn wherever she went.
Her mental state worsened daily; she locked herself in her room every day, fearful of facing anyone.
Christopher's condition began to worsen because no suitable bone marrow match had been found.
The doctor said Christopher's health was deteriorating rapidly, and without a suitable bone marrow match, he had at most three months to live.
Viola completely broke down upon hearing the news.
She went to the hospital every day to stay by Christopher's side, crying, "Chris, I'm sorry. I've failed you—I couldn't save you."
Christopher looked at Viola, his eyes filled with hopeless despair.
He knew his life was already counting down.
One day, I went to the hospital to visit Christopher.
He lay on the hospital bed, his face pale, his body wasted down to skin and bones.
"Sis, I'm sorry." When he saw me, tears immediately welled up and fell. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have agreed to Mom's plan. I shouldn't have hurt your child."
I looked at Christopher, my heart heavy with conflicting emotions.
He was indeed at fault, yet he was also a victim of this tragedy.
"Enough," I said. I handed him a tissue. "Take care of yourself."
Christopher took the tissue and wiped his tears. "Sis, I know I don't have long to live. I just hope you can forgive Mom. She loved me so much that she did those foolish things."
I fell silent.
Forgive Viola?
I can't.
She killed my daughter and shattered my life.
This hatred—I will never forget it.
Christopher saw my silence and spoke no more, only shedding tears silently.
In that moment, the family utterly fell apart.
No more quarrels, no more schemes.
Only endless sorrow and despair remained.

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