Give Birth to my Baby, Only to be Disregarded as His Mother

As soon as I gave birth, I was forced to give up my son to become my sisters baby. It was all because she had gotten into an accident, lost her own child, and could no longer conceive. To keep her from spiraling into a deep depression, they decided my baby would be her cure.

I didn't even get to hear his first cry properly.

Please, I begged, reaching out with weak, bloodstained hands. Let me hold him. Just once. Please.

Sandro stepped in front of the nurse, blocking my view. His face was a mask of cold indifference.

Stop making a scene, Candice, he said, his voice flat. You know the arrangement. Paula needs this baby more than you do. We can always make another one later. Don't be so selfish.

Selfish? I had carried this child for nine months. I had bled, I had suffered, I had talked to him every single night.

I became hysterical. I thrashed against the bedsheets, screaming Sandros name, screaming for my baby, begging anyone in the room to help me. But the nurses just looked away.

A doctor rushed in. A needle pierced my IV line. Coldness rushed through my veins, stealing my voice, my fight, and then the world went dark.

When I woke up, the room was suffocatingly quiet.

No monitors beeping. No baby crying. No husband holding my hand.

Just the cold, sterile smell of disinfectant. I was entirely alone. No one had even dared to visit me.

I pushed the thin blanket off. Searing pain shot through my lower half the moment I moved, but I didn't care. I dragged my feet to the cold floor. My legs trembled, my vision blurred, but I kept going. I had to find my family.

I stumbled down the hallway, clutching my stomach, leaning against the white walls for support.

Then, I heard voices coming from another room at the end of the hall. The door was slightly ajar.

I crept closer, my breath catching in my throat.

Inside, the room was bright and warm. My sister, Paula, was sitting on the hospital bed, glowing, cradling a tiny blue bundle in her arms. Sandro was sitting right beside her, his gaze soft and full of adoration.

Are you sure about this, Sandro? Paula asked softly, tracing my babys cheek.

I held my breath, waiting for my husband to defend me. To say he loved me.

Sandro scoffed. A cruel, dismissive sound.

Of course Im sure, he said, leaning in closer to her. I never wanted a child with her anyway. But since the baby is here, I decided we could just take him. He will know you as his mother, and Candice will finally be out of the picture.

Paula smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder.

After all, Sandro muttered, his voice dropping low, I dont care about her. I only care about you, Paula. I want us to be together. I regretted marrying her. It should be you.

My knees gave out.

I hit the floor with a dull thud, but they didnt even hear me. My hands clamped over my mouth to stifle the sob tearing its way up my throat.

He never loved me. He used me as an incubator for the woman he truly wanted.

I had been completely betrayed. I had no one left. No family. No husband. No son.

I didn't know what else to do. I just sat there on the cold tiles, my world shattering into a million unfixable pieces.

I had always thought Sandro was my safe haven. When my parents ignored me to praise Paula, Sandro was the one who held my hand. When I felt invisible in my own home, he made me feel seen. I married him thinking I had finally found the one person in the world who chose me first.

But now, the memories twisted into something ugly and venomous.

All those late nights he claimed he was stuck at the office. The sudden "business trips" that always seemed to happen whenever Paula was feeling down. The times I woke up in an empty bed, tracing the cold sheets while he was supposedly downstairs taking urgent calls.

He wasnt working. He was with her.

Every gentle smile, every whispered promise, every time he touched my growing bellyit was never about me. It was always about Paula. I was just a vessel. A convenient, naive little fool who provided the perfect cover for their sick affair, and the perfect incubator to replace the child my sister had lost.

The realization clawed at my chest, suffocating me. I couldn't breathe. I was drowning in the sheer, cruel reality of it all.

Mrs. Rossi?

I flinched, looking up through blurred, tear-filled eyes.

A doctor stood in the hallway, looking down at me with a grim, heavy expression. He held a thick medical folder in his hands.

What are you doing on the floor? he asked gently, helping me sit up against the wall.

My baby I choked out, my chest heaving. They took my baby.

The doctors eyes filled with a deep, pitying sorrow. He didnt look at the room where my husband and sister were. He just looked at the folder in his hands.

Candice, he said, his voice dropping to a heavy whisper. We ran the routine blood panels when you were admitted for delivery. We found something in your tests.

I stared at him, my blood running cold.

It seems you have cancer, he said quietly. And its already spread. I'm so sorry... you only have a few months left.

Mom, please, I begged, my voice cracking as I fell to my knees on the cold marble floor of the living room. Im dying. The doctor said I have cancer. I only have a few months left. Just let me be with my son. Just for a few months. Please!

My mother didnt even flinch. She stood over me, adjusting her pearl necklace, her eyes filled with nothing but disgust.

Stop this pathetic act, Candice, she snapped, stepping away from me like I was a disease. Cancer? Really? How low will you stoop just to get attention? Youre just faking this because you cant stand that Paula is finally happy.

Im not faking it! I have the medical papers

Enough! my mother hissed. Paula is fragile right now. She lost her baby, and she needs peace. Stop acting like a lunatic and let your sister heal. You should be grateful were even letting you stay in this house.

My heart shattered all over again. My own mother. The woman who gave birth to me was looking at me like I was a monster for wanting the child I had carried for nine months.

I dragged myself up and stumbled toward the hallway, desperate. I saw Sandro putting on his coat. He was getting ready to leave.

I grabbed his sleeve, my fingers trembling. Sandro, please. Talk to me. He is mine. Hes our son. You cant just erase me like this.

Sandro yanked his arm away so violently I almost lost my balance. His eyes were ice.

Are you deaf, Candice? he sneered. I told you, he is Paulas son now. You are nothing but the surrogate. You agreed to the terms of service of this marriage the moment you signed those papers and took my money to save your father's failing company. You were bought and paid for. Now, stay at home. I have better things to do without you.

He turned his back on me, walking up the stairs to fetch them.

The betrayal burned in my chest, a suffocating, toxic weight. My marriage wasn't a union of love. To him, it was just a transaction. A set of terms of service where I was the product, and Paula was the beneficiary.

A few minutes later, the house went quiet. I heard a soft whimper coming from the nursery upstairs.

My feet moved on instinct. I sneaked up the stairs, my breath catching in my throat. The nursery door was cracked open. I slipped inside.

There he was. My beautiful baby boy, lying in the crib, his little face red as he started to cry.

Shh, sweet boy. Mommys here, I whispered, tears spilling down my cheeks. I reached into the crib and gently lifted him into my arms. The moment his tiny body pressed against my chest, his crying stopped. He belonged with me.

What are you doing?!

A shrill scream shattered the moment.

Paula stood in the doorway, her face twisted in fake terror. Help! Sandro! Mom! Shes stealing my baby!

No! I just wanted to hold him! I panicked, holding my son closer to my chest.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Sandro burst into the room, his face dark with rage.

Give him to her! Sandro roared, lunging at me.

No! Hes mine! I screamed, stepping back.

But Sandro didnt care. He grabbed my arm and yanked me hard. In the violent struggle, my grip slipped. The baby tumbled from my arms.

Time stopped.

I lunged forward, catching him just before he hit the floor, but his tiny head bumped hard against the wooden leg of the crib.

A piercing, agonizing wail erupted from my baby.

My baby! Paula shrieked, snatching him from my arms. You monster! You tried to kill him!

I didnt! Sandro, you pulled me

Shut up! Sandro struck me across the face. The slap was so hard I tasted blood. If anything happens to him, I will kill you myself! Get the car, Paula! Were going to the hospital!

They ran out, leaving me on the floor.

Panic and adrenaline surged through my weak body. I forced myself up and ran after them, hailing a cab with shaking hands to follow Sandros car to the emergency room.

When I finally burst through the hospital doors, I saw them at the front desk.

Sandro! How is he? Is he okay? I cried, rushing toward them.

Sandro turned, his eyes blazing with pure hatred. Get away from us!

He shoved me backward with all his strength.

He didn't even wait to see me fall. He just turned his back, wrapping his arm protectively around Paula as they hurried down the pediatric wing.

My weak legs gave out. I stumbled backward, bracing for the hard impact of the hospital tiles.

But I didnt hit the floor.

Instead, I crashed into a solid, warm chest just as I stumbled past the shadows of a corridor alcove. A pair of strong, steady arms wrapped around my waist, catching me effortlessly and pulling me completely out of sight.

I gasped, looking up, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

The man holding me had sharp, striking features and eyes as cold and deep as the ocean.

My breath hitched. I recognized that face from the covers of every business magazine Sandro obsessed over. It was Elias Thorne. Sandros ultimate rival. The ruthless billionaire who had been slowly dismantling my husband's empire piece by piece.

He pressed a long, elegant finger to his lips, silencing my gasp as we watched Sandro and Paula disappear down the hall, completely unaware of us.

Is this how Rossi treats his dying wife? Elias murmured, his voice a low, dangerous velvet against my ear. How pathetic.

I trembled, tears spilling over my lashes as I looked up at the man my husband feared most.

Eliass gaze darkened, his grip on my waist tightening just a fraction. Tell me, Candice, he whispered. Do you want to make them pay?

Do you want to make them pay?

I trembled, my weak hands clutching his expensive suit jacket just to stay upright. Why why would you care about me? Im just a dying, discarded wife.

Eliass eyes, cold and deep as the ocean, narrowed. He didn't offer me a soft smile or words of pity.

Because I despise Sandro Rossi, he said brutally. But more than that, I hate seeing someone accept defeat so pathetically. You have two choices, Candice. You can lay down on this hospital floor and die crying or you can stand up and take back what is yours.

His words hit me like a bucket of ice water. But my heart was still bleeding for only one thing.

My baby I choked out, fresh tears spilling over. Is he okay? He hit his head

Elias didnt even blink. He simply snapped his fingers.

From the shadows, an assistant in a sharp black suit stepped forward and handed Elias a sleek medical tablet. Elias glanced at it, then tilted the screen toward me.

Your son is perfectly fine. A minor bruise. Nothing more, Elias stated flatly.

A massive wave of relief washed over me, but it was instantly shattered. Elias tapped the screen again, bringing up a live security feed from the doctors private office down the hall.

The audio crackled to life.

Sandro, Im so scared! Paulas voice echoed from the tablet, accompanied by loud, dramatic sobs. Shes crazy! She tried to hurt him! What if she comes back and tries to steal him again?

Shh, its okay, Paula. Ive got you, Sandros voice replied, soft and sickeningly sweet.

I cant sleep knowing shes out there. Please, Sandro. Get a restraining order. Keep her away from us!

I stared at the screen in horror. Paula was faking a panic attack, burying her face in Sandros chest while he rubbed her back.

I will, Sandro agreed without a single ounce of hesitation. Ill have my lawyers draft it today. She will never come near our son again.

Our son.

Hearing him say thathearing him legally erase me from my own child's lifedid something to me. The heavy, suffocating sorrow that had been drowning me suddenly evaporated.

In its place, a burning, absolute rage ignited in my chest.

My tears stopped falling. My trembling hands curled into tight fists.

Elias watched the shift in my eyes. A dark, satisfied smirk played on his lips. He handed the tablet back to his assistant and looked down at me.

Marry me.

I froze, staring at him in shock. What?

Become my wife, Elias said, his tone entirely business, yet dripping with a lethal promise. If you agree, I will fly in the top oncologists in the world to fight your cancer. You will not die. More importantly, I will give you the wealth and the power to completely destroy Sandros company. You will ruin Paulas perfect little facade. And you will legally take your son back.

He stepped closer, his towering presence demanding an answer. Do we have a deal?

I thought of my mothers disgusted face. I thought of Sandros cruel slap. I thought of Paulas fake, venomous tears.

A spark of lifeof pure, unadulterated vengeancefinally returned to my soul.

I accept, I whispered, my voice turning to steel.

An hour later, I returned to the Rossi mansion to pack my few belongings.

The moment I pushed the front door open, the sound of laughter hit me like nails on a chalkboard.

I walked into the living room. Sandro, Paula, and my mother were sitting on the expensive leather couches, drinking tea and celebrating the baby's return from the hospital. They looked like a perfect, happy family.

The laughter died the second Sandro saw me.

His face hardened into a mask of pure disgust. He stood up, grabbed a thick document from the coffee table, and threw it violently at my feet. The papers scattered across the marble floor.

Sign it, he barked. Its a permanent restraining order and a gag order. You are leaving this house tonight. You will never speak to us, and you will never see the boy again.

From the couch, Paula adjusted the baby in her arms and gave me a sickening, triumphant smirk.

They expected me to break. They expected me to fall to my knees, to cry, to beg for scraps of their mercy just like I always did.

I didn't shed a single tear.

I stepped forward, my muddy shoes planting directly onto the restraining order.

Sandros eyes widened in shock as I closed the distance between us. I looked him dead in the eye, my gaze completely numb to the man I once loved.

I reached into my bag, pulled out a sleek black folder, and slapped it hard against his chest.

I'm not here to beg, Sandro, I said, my voice eerily calm. I'm here to give you my divorce papers.

Sandro stumbled back a step, catching the folder. He stared at it, stunned, before a cruel, mocking laugh erupted from his throat.

Divorce? he sneered, looking me up and down. You have no money. You have no family. You really think a judge will let you take my son?

I didn't answer him.

Instead, I raised my left hand. Slowly, deliberately, I slid the diamond wedding ring off my finger.

I dropped it.

It hit the marble floor with a sharp clink. I raised my foot and kicked it across the room. It skidded to a halt right at Paulas feet.

Keep the trash, sister, I said coldly.

I turned my back on them, pausing just before I walked out the door.

I'm coming back for my son. And when I do, I will take everything from you.

My words hung in the heavy silence of the living room.

Sandro stared at the diamond ring resting near Paulas feet, his chest heaving. For a split second, I saw genuine shock in his eyes.

He couldn't comprehend that his docile, dying wifethe woman who had spent years begging for his scraps of affectionwas walking away.

Then, the shock melted away, replaced by a dark, furious red that crept up his neck.

His mocking laughter died. He snatched the black folder from his chest, his knuckles turning white as he violently tore the divorce papers in half, then in half again, throwing the shredded pieces at my feet.

"You don't leave until I say you leave," he snarled, his voice dropping into a vicious, controlling register. "You think you can just walk out of here and make demands? You aren't getting a divorce, Candice. You are going to sit down, sign the gag order, and sign the full parental surrender tonight. If you don't, I promise you, I will make whatever miserable months you have left a living hell."

From the couch, Paula clutched my baby tighter to her chest, her eyes wide with manufactured terror. "Sandro, don't let her go!" she cried out, perfectly playing the victim. "She's crazy! What if she goes to the press and ruins our reputation? She'll tell them lies about us!"

I didn't even look at her. I didn't look at my mother, who was watching me with silent condemnation.

I simply turned my back on all of them and continued walking toward the heavy mahogany front doors.

Being ignored completely shattered the last of Sandros restraint.

"I'm talking to you!" he roared.

I heard his heavy footsteps behind me just a second before he lunged. His large hand clamped down roughly on my arm, yanking me backward.

"What on earth is going on here?!"

The sharp, authoritative voice cut through the foyer. My motherEleanorfinally stepped out of the living room, her face pale with fury.

But her anger wasn't directed at Sandro for manhandling me. It was directed entirely at me.

"Are you out of your mind, Candice?" Eleanor hissed, marching toward us. "A divorce? You are not leaving this house! Do you have any idea what a scandal will do to the company shares your father left you?"

I stared at her, my chest aching. "Is that all you care about? The shares? My husband is sleeping with Paula, he stole my child, and I am dying, Mother!"

"Don't call me that!" Eleanor snapped, her upper lip curling in absolute disgust.

The words struck me like a physical blow. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.

Eleanor glared at me, years of hidden venom finally spilling over. "I am not your mother. I never was. I should have left you in the gutter where your whore of a mother died!"

My blood ran cold. My breath caught in my throat as the floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

"What... what are you saying?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"You really thought my husband would leave his entire legacy to you out of love?" Eleanor laughed bitterly. "You are the bastard child of his favorite mistress! He forced me to take you in to save his reputation. He gave you the controlling shares of the company out of guilt! I only married you off to Sandro so we could keep the business in the family and keep you under control!"

She pointed a trembling, manicured finger at my face. "You owe us everything, you ungrateful wretch! You will stay here, you will sign those shares over to Sandro, and you will die quietly without ruining Paula's future!"

Heartbreak, sharp and agonizing, tore through my chest.

My whole life was a lie. The woman I had spent twenty-four years trying to please, the sister I had loved, the husband I had devoted my soul tothey had all been using me.

I was nothing but a pawn, a dirty secret they kept around just to drain my father's inheritance.

The tears I had sworn not to shed pricked my eyes, but as I looked at their greedy, hateful faces, the sorrow instantly hardened into ice.

"You can keep the shares," I whispered, my voice eerily hollow. "Keep the money. Keep the lies."

With a sudden, violent burst of adrenaline, I ripped my arm out of Sandro's grip.

Before he could grab me again, I shoved the heavy mahogany doors open and stumbled out into the freezing, pouring rain.

The storm soaked me to the bone instantly, but I didn't stop. I hurried down the marble steps of the porch, the cold wind whipping my hair across my face.

"Candice!" Sandro roared, chasing me out onto the covered porch. "If you walk down those steps, you're dead! I'll freeze your accounts! You'll die in the streets!"

I kept walking down the driveway, the rain washing away my tears.

"Guards! Grab her!" Sandro barked into the storm.

Two burly mansion security guards rushed out from the side of the house, sprinting through the rain to intercept me.

But before they could even reach me, the blinding glare of headlights pierced the darkness.

Dont you dare touch whats mine, a voice thundered.

Sandros POV

Dont you dare touch whats mine. The voice thundered over the pouring rain.

Before my guards could even take another step toward Candice, the doors of the black SUVs flew open. Men in sharp suits poured out.

In seconds, my two best security guards were slammed face-first onto the wet concrete. Blood pooled around their jaws, mixing with the freezing rain.

I froze on the porch. My fists clenched so hard my knuckles popped.

Elias Thorne.

The man who had been bleeding my company dry for months. The billionaire who looked at the rest of us like we were dirt beneath his custom-made shoes.

And now, he was stepping out of the lead car, holding an umbrella over my dying, pathetic wife.

Candice. The woman who had spent the last three years hanging onto my every word. The woman who used to look at me like I was a god. I had trained her to be quiet. I had trained her to take whatever scraps of affection I threw at her.

She was supposed to break tonight. She was supposed to fall to her knees and beg me to let her hold the baby.

Instead, she was standing tall.

Youre trespassing, Thorne! I roared, stepping out into the rain. The cold water soaked through my shirt, but the heat of my anger burned it away. Let her go! Shes my wife!

Elias didnt even flinch. He looked at me with eyes as cold and dead as the ocean.

Not anymore, Rossi, he said, his voice slicing through the storm. Shes mine now.

He opened the car door. Candice slipped inside.

She didnt cry. She didnt look back. She didnt beg.

That was what pissed me off the most. The absolute emptiness in her eyes when she looked at me.

The door slammed shut. The engines roared, a low, guttural sound that vibrated in my chest.

I watched the taillights disappear into the dark, my chest heaving with rage.

Let her go.

She was weak. She was penniless. She wouldnt last a day out there. She had no friends. I made sure of that. She had no family who cared about her. Eleanor made sure of that.

She would come crawling back the second she realized she couldn't survive without my money. She always did.

And when she did, I would make her beg. I would make her sleep on the floor outside the nursery just to hear the kid cry.

I turned around and stormed back into the mansion.

The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut behind me, cutting off the sound of the storm.

Sandro! Paula rushed toward me, clutching the baby. Her eyes were wide, playing the perfect, terrified victim. Did you stop her? What if she goes to the press? What if she ruins us?

Shut up, Paula, I snapped. I didn't have the patience for her whining tonight. She was beautiful, yes. She was the woman I actually wanted in my bed. But when she panicked, her voice grated on my nerves.

Dont you tell her to shut up! Eleanor shrieked, marching down the stairs. Her face was pale with absolute panic. Her expensive silk robe billowed behind her like a bats wings. Do you realize what just happened? She left! If she actually files for divorce, the shares go with her! My husbands entire legacy, gone! We will be ruined!

Shes not getting a divorce, I growled, walking over to the crystal decanter. I poured myself a heavy glass of scotch. My hands were shaking, but I downed it in one burning swallow. She has no money for a lawyer. Ill freeze her accounts. Ill starve her out.

As I turned toward the living room, something caught my eye.

Lying on the marble floor, half-hidden under the console table, was a thick manila folder.

Candice must have dropped it during the struggle.

I walked over and snatched it up.

The logo of the citys top oncology center was stamped on the front.

I ripped it open.

Pages of lab results. Scans. Blood panels.

My eyes scanned the heavy black text.

Stage IV.

Metastasis.

Terminal.

Estimated time: Three to four months.

The breath caught in my throat.

She wasnt lying.

She wasnt pulling a pathetic stunt for attention. She was actually dying.

A bizarre thrill shot through my veins. I had spent years pretending to care about her. Years touching her skin when I was thinking of Paula.

Years waiting for the moment I could finally take full control of her father's empire without having to look at her naive, trusting face anymore.

What is it? Eleanor demanded, snatching the papers from my hand.

Her eyes darted across the medical jargon. She froze.

For a second, the room was dead silent. Only the ticking of the grandfather clock echoed in the vast foyer.

Then, a slow, dark smile crept across my face.

Shes dying, I whispered.

Eleanor looked up, her panic instantly morphing into cold, calculating greed. The old woman was a snake, just like me.

If she dies before she signs the transfer Eleanor muttered, her mind spinning. The shares go into probate. The board will tear us apart.

No, I said, the realization hitting me like a rush of pure adrenaline.

If she dies while we are still legally married I inherit everything. As her widower, I get the controlling shares. I get the company. I get it all.

Paula smiled from the couch, rocking the baby. So we just have to wait?

Exactly, I laughed, tossing the medical file onto the floor like a piece of trash. It landed right where Candice had stood an hour ago.

Let her run to Thorne. Let her play her little games. I will drag this divorce out in court for years if I have to. Ill bury her in paperwork. Shell be dead before a judge even looks at the first page. We won.

I slept like a king that night.

I dreamt of the board of directors bowing to me. I dreamt of Candices funeral, wearing a sharp black suit, pretending to wipe a tear for the cameras while I pocketed billions.

I woke up the next morning feeling untouchable.

The storm had passed. The sun was shining through the massive windows of my bedroom.

I poured myself a cup of black coffee and walked down the hallway toward my home office. I was ready to call my lawyers. I was ready to freeze her credit cards, lock her out of her own trust funds, and block every legal move she tried to make.

I turned the brass handle.

But when I opened the door, my blood ran cold.

Sitting perfectly in the center of my mahogany desk was a sleek, black envelope.

My security system hadnt tripped. My guards hadnt seen a thing. The cameras showed nothing but static for exactly three minutes at 4:00 AM.

Someone had been in my house.

Someone had stood in the very room where I kept all my secrets.

My hands trembled as I picked it up. The paper was heavy, expensive.

I broke the wax seal.

Inside was a single, terrifyingly thick stack of papers.

Expedited Decree of Divorce.

Already signed by a judge.

But that wasnt what made my stomach drop. That wasn't what made the air leave my lungs.

Beneath the divorce decree was a second stack of papers.

Bank statements. Offshore account numbers. Wire transfers.

Every single dime I had embezzled from the company over the last three years, documented down to the penny. The shell corporations. The fake vendors. The money I used to buy Paula her diamonds and her silence.

And beneath that high-resolution photographs.

Me and Paula. In hotel rooms. In my car. Kissing in the shadows of the company parking garage. Dates, times, locations. Everything.

A small, heavy cardstock note fell from the bundle and landed on my desk.

The handwriting was sharp and elegant.

Sign the divorce papers by 9:00 AM, or these go to the District Attorney and the press.

Enjoy prison, Rossi.

E. Thorne.