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Chapter 3



Chapter Three 

+ 5 Points 

Chapter Three 

“The fetal heartbeat has suddenly become irregular. We need to take the pregnant woman to the hospital immediately.” I let the rescue workers carry me onto the ambulance. 

Lying on the stretcher, I watched as Mason and Erica continued their heartfelt conversation, gradually losing consciousness. 

In the hospital corridor, I regained consciousness and heard they were going to perform a C–section. With all my strength, I grabbed the doctor’s hand and rasped, “If there’s a danger during the operation, please 

save me.” 

Child, I’m sorry. 

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I am unworthy of being your mother. 

This surgery took nearly eight hours to pull us both back from the brink of death. 

When I awoke, the baby had already been born 

a boy, weighing three pounds six ounces–and had been placed in an incubator. 

Hearing the door handle turn, I looked up to see Mason, looking haggard. 

“Rica, does the wound still hurt?” 

Hearing this endearment, I felt only disgust. How could he be so shameless? 

After crossing the threshold of death, apart from the child, I had nothing left to care about. 

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I slowly raised my eyes and, instead of answering, questioned, “Who is she?” 

Mason’s brow furrowed at my aggressive tone, his voice turning cold, “Ulrica, don’t be so sensitive.” 

“Mason, I’m not a fool. During the incident, your face was full of worry and concern for her, I saw it clearly.” 

I fought back tears, calmly accusing him, “At my most desperate moment you abandoned me 

and our child for someone else.” 

Six years, I thought I was happy, but now I realize I could never compare to Erica. 

Seeing me cry, Mason felt a pang of regret and 

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repeatedly promised, “Rica, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.” 

“Erica has a severe heart condition, I couldn’t just ignore her.” 

I pushed him away, “Don’t call me that, it makes me sick.” 

When he didn’t budge, I couldn’t bear it anymore and bit his shoulder hard. I heard him groan as the taste of blood filled the air. 

“Leave. I don’t want to see you right now.” 

Fearing he’d trigger hemorrhaging, Mason had 

no choice but to leave. 

And that day, I never saw him again. 

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Mason’s parents were out of town and couldn’t come back, leaving me to handle everything alone. 

At eleven in the evening, the baby in the incubator suddenly had convulsions, causing chaos in the nursery. 

After being resuscitated, the doctor told me, standing by the operating room door, “The baby was premature, his breathing is not stable, he might not…” 

She didn’t finish, but I could guess. This child might not survive. 

Unable to hold back any longer, I clutched the doctor’s hand, sobbing, “Doctor, please save him. No matter how much it costs, I’ll pay.” 

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“He’s my only blood relative in this world, I only have him. I beg you, please save him.” 

Ignoring the nurses‘ and doctors‘ attempts to console me, I bore the pain of my stitches tearing and went to the incubator. 

This child was so small, too small, I feared he 

might not make it through the night. 

My hand touched his through the glass, as if that could give us both strength. 

“Baby, hang in there! Don’t be afraid, Mommy will always be with you.” 

“Where’s the child’s father? You shouldn’t be 

out of bed after surgery,” the nurse beside me suddenly asked. 

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Wiping away my tears, I replied faintly, “He’s 

dead.” 

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