The Echo of a Lost Love
I just had a cesarean section yesterday. The doctor said the baby was premature and needs to stay in the incubator for a few more days. I haven't even had the chance to hold him properly yet.
The ward door was suddenly pushed open, and Robert Goodman walked in. He is my husband and also the head of the Goodman Group.
Following behind Robert was Megan?Black, his childhood sweetheart.
Megan's eyes were red-rimmed as she clung to Robert's arm.
"Robert," she said, "she pushed me yesterday, and my stomach hurt because of it."
I was stunned. I had been in the delivery room the entire time yesterday. How could I have pushed her?
Robert did not look at me; he walked straight to the hospital bed.
His voice was icy: "Sherry, Megan is carrying my child. You have wronged her, and you must pay the price."
I hadn't yet reacted.
Two bodyguards helped me out of bed.
The wound on my abdomen tore open, blood seeping through the gauze.
I was in so much pain that cold sweat broke out all over me.
"Robert, what are you going to do?"
He did not answer.
The car drove for two hours and stopped at a cliff by the sea.
The wind was strong, carrying the salty smell of the sea.
I saw my son—the newborn just one day old—placed inside a transparent incubator, hanging by thick ropes at the edge of the cliff, the other end gripped in Robert's hand.
"Sherry," he said, his gaze cold, "Bow down 99 times and apologize to Megan."
"For each bow, I will pull the incubator up a little."
"If you don't finish, your son will fall into the sea."
I stared at the sea beneath the cliff.
The black waves churned, as if eager to swallow everything.
"Robert, he is your son too!"
"My son?" He smiled cruelly, "I only admit the one inside Megan's womb."
Megan urged beside him, "Robert, don't waste words on her. What if the child falls..."
I knelt down, my knees hitting the hard rock with searing pain; I began kowtowing, my forehead striking the rock with a muffled bang.
One, two, three...
Blood trickled down my forehead, blurring my eyes.
The pain in my abdomen worsened, blood streaming down my legs.
With each kowtow, I stole a glance at the incubator below the cliff.
The baby moved inside, as if crying.
"Robert, is that enough?"
"Only thirty. Keep going."
The wind picked up, the rope swinging wildly in the gusts, and I dared not stop.
My forehead was already bruised and bleeding, the blood mingling with mud and sand.
After ninety-nine kowtows, I finally finished.
My forehead was swollen high and numb with pain.
I leaned on the rocks to stand up: "Robert, pull the child up."
He looked at me, then suddenly let go, the rope sliding down with a whoosh, the incubator plunging into the sea.
"No!" I lunged forward frantically but was held back by the bodyguards.
I watched the incubator fall into the black waves, instantly swallowed whole.
My vision went dark and I nearly fainted.
At that moment, the sound of a helicopter approached—it was Ryan Lewis's rescue team.
He has been my childhood friend and is also the captain of the maritime rescue team.
"Sherry!" He called as he jumped from the helicopter. "I got the message and came right away!"
The team members dived into the sea. Half an hour later, they brought the child aboard—the incubator was broken, the child's body was cold all over, and there was no cry.
Ryan held the child tightly and ran toward the helicopter. "Quickly, we need to go to the hospital!"
I followed them onto the helicopter, cradling my child in my arms; his body was so soft and so cold.
At the hospital.
When the doctor came out, his expression was very grim.
"Miss Oliver, the child suffocated due to seawater aspiration, compounded by congenital toxins in the body."
"He is currently unconscious and may become a vegetative patient."
"The only hope is to find RH-negative blood to perform special treatment."
I was stunned. RH-negative blood—Megan has this blood type.
Robert and Megan had just arrived at the hospital.
I grabbed Robert's arm. "Robert, let Megan donate some blood!"
"To save our child!"
Megan hid behind Robert. "Robert, I'm afraid of having blood drawn, and I'm also pregnant..."
Robert pushed me aside. "Megan is pregnant; she cannot have blood drawn."
"Sherry, this is your child. You'll have to handle this yourself."
I watched their backs as they turned and walked away.
My heart sank bit by bit.
The child lay in the ICU; the doctor said he could survive at most three days. I had to get Megan's blood.
I found Robert; he was preparing for the Goodman Group's Anniversary Banquet.
"Robert, as long as you allow Megan to donate blood, I will agree to anything."
He looked at me, a cold smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Very well. So at the Anniversary Banquet, I'd like to see you wearing this bloodstained dress."
He threw me a white gown, stained with an unknown red liquid.
"From the banquet hall's entrance, crawl to the main table."
"For every step you crawl, bow your head once."
"A total of 999 times."
"If you can do that, Megan might agree to donate blood."
I looked at the bloodstained dress; the red liquid was already dry and stiff, like congealed blood.
"Robert, you have gone too far!"
"Either that, or watch your son die." He turned around. "It's up to you."
For the sake of the child, I agreed.
On the day of the Anniversary Banquet, the hall was brilliantly lit, guests dressed in splendid clothes, laughing and chatting.
Wearing that bloodstained dress, I stood at the doorway, all eyes fixed on me.
There was surprise, contempt, and sympathy.
I took a deep breath, knelt down, and began crawling—one step, then a kowtow.
My knees scraped against the smooth floor, pain piercing through.
The bloodstained clothes rubbed against the wound on my abdomen, and the gauze was soaked through with blood again.
"Look, isn't that Mr. Goodman's wife?"
"Why is she dressed like that?"
"I heard her son is close to death, she's begging Mr. Goodman for help."
The whispers pierced my heart like needles.
I dared not raise my head, focusing only on crawling, only on kowtowing.
My forehead was already bruised and bleeding, the red mixing with the stains on my bloodstained clothes.
Halfway through crawling, Megan approached.
She wore a magnificent gown, holding a tray in her hands.
There was a blood bag on the tray.
"Sherry, look, I bring the blood you need."
She crouched down and said with a smile.
My eyes lit up: "Thank you, Megan!"
"Hold on, hold on." Suddenly, she raised her hand and threw the blood bag to the floor; it broke.
Red blood flowed out, staining the floor.
"Oh, sorry, I slipped."
She stood up and leaned close to my ear: "Sherry, both you and your son deserve to die."
I suddenly looked up, my eyes filled with anger.
I lunged forward, trying to grab her, but Robert stopped me; he kicked me in the stomach.
"Sherry, how dare you lay a hand on Megan?"
I fell to the ground, the wound on my abdomen tearing open completely, blood streaming down my dress and mixing with the blood on the floor.
"Robert..." I was too pained to speak.
At that moment, my phone rang—it was the hospital calling.
"Miss Oliver, there's trouble!"
"The baby is crashing; his vital signs are deteriorating!"
"There's at most one hour left!"
I struggled to stand up: "Robert, let Megan donate some blood immediately!"
"Stop putting on a show." He sneered, "You just want to hurt Megan."
"Take her downstairs and lock her in a room."
Two bodyguards seized me and led me toward a room upstairs.
I struggled desperately. "Robert, you will regret this!"
He didn't look back. I was locked inside; the door was bolted.
I pounded on the door, calling for help, but no one answered.
An hour later, I heard footsteps outside—it was the assistant of Robert Goodman.
"Miss Oliver, Mr. Goodman asked me to tell you."
"The hospital just called. Your son has passed away."
I was stunned, all my strength drained away.
I leaned against the door and slowly slid down, tears falling like broken beads.
I never even had the chance to hold my child properly, and now he is gone.
I have to get out. I want to see my child one last time.
I looked around the room, saw the window, and climbed over to open it.
Outside was a platform on the second floor. I jumped down.
My legs hurt terribly from the fall, but I didn't care.
I hobbled to the hospital.
In the hospital, the ICU lights had already gone out; my child lay in the small bed, cold all over, eyes tightly shut.
I walked over and gently picked him up; he was so small, so soft.
As if he was asleep.
"Baby, Mommy is here."
"I'm so sorry."
I held him, sitting down on the floor.
I cried for a long time.
I stayed in the hospital for three days, holding my child's lifeless body, unwilling to let go.
The doctor urged me to lay the child to rest.
I won't listen. This is my only child; I can't leave him all alone.
On the fourth day, I held the child and went to the morgue, looking for a place where he could be properly cared for.
Outside the morgue, I overheard two nurses talking.
"Did you know? The premature baby had chronic toxins in his blood."
"It seems someone deliberately fed them to him."
"So pitiful—he died just a few days after being born."
Chronic toxins? Deliberately fed? My entire body froze.
Who was it? Megan?Black? Or Robert Goodman?
Holding the child, I walked toward the villa. I needed to find out the truth.
In the villa.
Megan sat on the sofa, stroking her belly, a triumphant smile on her face.
"Megan, is that you?" I rushed over and grabbed her arm. "Did you feed my son poison?"
She was startled, then laughed. "Sherry, are you insane?"
"How could I do such a thing?"
"Don't falsely accuse me!"
We struggled.
Suddenly, Megan screamed and fell backward, tumbling down the stairs.
At that moment, Robert just returned home and saw what had happened.
He rushed over and pushed me aside.
"Sherry, do you want to kill Megan and her child?"
"I didn't push her! She fell by herself!"
"You still dare deny it!" He kicked my leg.
I fell to the ground, a sharp pain shooting through my leg.
Megan lay on the ground, clutching her belly. "Robert, my stomach hurts..."
Robert picked her up and shouted anxiously, "Call an ambulance quickly!"
As he passed me, he said coldly, "Sherry, you will pay for this."
The ambulance arrived, and Robert went with it to the hospital; I was left alone in the villa.
I remembered what the nurse in the morgue said, along with Megan's smug smile—I had to find proof.
But when I arrived at the morgue, I discovered my child was gone.
I grabbed a nurse. "Where is my child? The child I left here?"
The nurse's face darkened. "Miss Oliver, just now... someone said the child was medical waste."
"It has already been taken away and disposed of."
Medical waste?
My child was discarded as medical waste.
Everything darkened before my eyes, and I nearly fainted.
Like a madwoman, I bolted out of the morgue.
"Where's my child? Give me back my child!"
People on the street all stared at me as if I were insane.
I wandered aimlessly, my arms empty.
Even my child's body was gone.
What's the point of living anymore?
I found the place where medical waste was being disposed of.
It was an abandoned factory, piled high with rubbish.
I searched inside for a long time and finally found my child in a black trash bag.
His body was already mangled beyond recognition; I held that garbage bag as if it were the most precious treasure in the world, tears falling onto the bag, forming a small stain.
I held him tightly and returned to the top floor of the hospital.
The wind was strong, blowing through my hair as I watched people coming and going below, my mind utterly blank.
Robert Goodman.
Megan Black.
You have destroyed everything I had.
I won't let you live in peace.
I took out my phone, drafted a divorce agreement, photographed it, and sent it to Robert.
Then, I climbed onto the railing.
An exclamation came from downstairs, and I looked down.
I saw Ryan running upstairs.
"Sherry! Don't jump!"
I smiled. Ryan, I'm sorry, I can't stay with you any longer.
I leapt, the wind whistling past my ears.
I felt like a feather, light and drifting.
In the moment of falling, I looked through the hospital window.
I saw Robert sitting in the ward, kissing Megan's pregnant belly, smiling so tenderly.
At that moment, I heard the assistant's voice.
"Mr. Goodman, something terrible has happened!"
"Miss Oliver... Miss Oliver has jumped from the top floor!"
Robert's smile froze.
He suddenly stood up and ran toward the window.
I saw the shock on his face, and a hint of... panic?
It was too late; I was almost hitting the ground.
Suddenly, a pair of strong arms caught me—it was Ryan.
He jumped down and caught me.
We landed on an air cushion.
I didn't die.
Ryan held me, his voice trembling, "Sherry, you scared me to death!"
I looked at him, tears streaming down: "Ryan, my baby is gone..."
"I know." He stroked my head, "I will help you get revenge."
At that moment, Robert came running over.
He looked at me, his expression complicated: "Sherry, you..."
Ryan stood up and punched Robert in the face.
"Robert, you bastard!"
"Sherry gave birth to your child, yet you treat her this way!"
"And the child in Megan's womb is not yours at all!"
He took out a DNA report and threw it in front of Robert.
"See for yourself!"
Robert picked up the report, his hands trembling. After reading it, his face turned pale.
"How could it..."
"Megan said this is my child..."
He rushed toward the ward like a madman. I knew Megan has had her run.
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