His Turn to Beg

James Smith stood at the end of the hallway on the top floor of the Starlight Crown Hotel, dim lighting carving dark shadows across his cold profile.

The surveillance screenshot his assistant had sent showed Sophia Brown being helped into this room an hour ago by some man.

His mouth tightened into a thin line. His fingers paused at the edge of the keycard before he slid it into the lock.

The living room was empty, the air thick with the stale smell of alcohol. The bedroom door stood ajar. A dull thud came from inside.

James's pupils constricted. Almost on instinct, he strode forward and kicked the door open.

The bed was a mess. Sophia's clothes had been torn open, her belly was slightly rounded, a shattered vase clutched in her hand. Her face was white as a sheet.

The man on top of her clutched his head, cursing viciously. "You're the one who came on to me! What are you playing saint for now?"

Sophia saw James in the doorway. A flicker of desperate hope crossed her eyes. She struggled to get off the bed but collapsed onto the carpet, too weak to stand.

"James… did you come to save me…"

She had only been having dinner with friends. One drink, and her consciousness had blurred. When she came to, this stranger had already brought her to a hotel room.

She had used the last of her strength to smash the vase against his head. Otherwise…

James's gaze was like a poisoned blade as he stared at her. Then he laughed, low and bitter, the sound cutting like ice. "Sophia. Two years of marriage, and I really underestimated you."

Sophia bit down hard, her voice hoarse as she tried to explain. "It's not what you think. Someone drugged me—they set me up!"

"Drugged?" James crouched down and grabbed her chin, his grip brutal enough to make her brow furrow in pain. "Didn't you come to this hotel with a man of your own free will? You look pretty lucid to me."

The pain made her breath come fast, but she still looked at him stubbornly. "James, can't you trust me just once? I really didn't—"

"Trust you?" He released her like she was something filthy he'd accidentally touched. "Sophia, from the day you got Emily killed, you lost any credibility with me."

That name cut through her heart like a dull knife—Emily Johnson, James's childhood sweetheart.

Years ago, she and Emily had been kidnapped together. The kidnappers had released her but gang-raped Emily to death—and sent the video to James.

Emily's parents had accused her of bribing the kidnappers. From that day on, James had hated her with every fiber of his being.

Sophia opened her mouth to defend herself, but a soft voice drifted in from the doorway. "James, are you in there…"

Isabella Johnson walked in on high heels. When she saw the scene inside, she gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh my God, Sophia, what happened to you…"

She moved to James's side and gently took his hand, her voice soothing. "James, maybe Sophia just made a mistake. Please calm down."

Sophia's head snapped up. She caught the flash of triumph in Isabella's eyes and understood instantly.

She stared at Isabella, teeth clenched. "It was you! You set this up!"

Isabella was Emily's younger sister. She had always been in love with James. On the surface she seemed fragile, but she had sabotaged Sophia more than once behind the scenes.

Isabella's eyes welled with tears. She bit her lip, looking wounded. "Sophia, how can you accuse me like this? I know you hate me because of what happened to my sister, but you can't take revenge this way."

Sophia looked at her pitiful expression, fury blazing through her.

She staggered to her feet and used every ounce of strength she had left to slap Isabella across the face. "Isabella, drop the act! You paid this man off—you wanted to destroy me and take my place as Mrs. Smith!"

Isabella stumbled back half a step, covering her face, tears swimming in her eyes as she looked at James. "James, I really didn't!"

"Ah!" Before she could finish, she suddenly cried out as if Sophia had shoved her. She lost her balance and grabbed at Sophia as she fell backward.

Sophia's weakened body was yanked along. Her back slammed hard against the carpet, and then a massive force collided with her abdomen. Blinding pain exploded through her entire body. Her vision went dark.

"Isabella!" James's shout rang out.

He helped Isabella up, his tone urgent. "Are you hurt?"

Isabella leaned into his arms, tears streaming down her face. "I'm fine, James. Why did Sophia push me?"

"Sophia!"

James glared at her, but what he saw made him freeze. She was curled into herself, both hands pressed against her abdomen, cold sweat soaking through her hair.

A crimson pool spread beneath her, spreading rapidly across the floor. The air turned thick with the smell of blood.

"The baby… save my baby!" Sophia's mouth opened, but only a broken moan came out.

James's expression finally changed. He stared at that glaring red stain, his fists clenching and unclenching.

Two seconds later, he scooped Sophia into his arms and rushed toward the door. "Get the car! We're going to the hospital!"

Sophia leaned against him, pain dragging her consciousness under, but she still whispered, "James, I didn't betray you."

James didn't respond. He only quickened his pace.

Outside the hospital operating room, the red light burned like an accusation.

James stood by the hallway window, still as a statue carved from ice.

"James, it's okay." Isabella's soft voice came from behind him. "Sophia will be fine. The baby will be fine too."

The operating room door swung open. A nurse hurried out. "The patient is critical. Do we save the mother or the child?"

"Get rid of the child. It's a problem that shouldn't exist in the first place. I shouldn't have to spell this out for you."

He turned his face slightly, impatience etched between his brows.

The nurse froze. She had seen plenty of anguished family members, but rarely one this cold.

Isabella covered her mouth with a soft sigh, a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes.

"Use the most direct method," James added. "Don't waste time."

The nurse nodded. The operating room door closed again.

The hallway fell silent once more. The wind howled outside the window. James remained at the glass, the cigarette between his fingers long since burned out.

Inside the operating room.

Sophia lay on the cold operating table, pain crashing through her abdomen in waves.

The door opened. Isabella walked in wearing sterile scrubs.

"What are you doing in here?" The doctor frowned.

"James was worried. He asked me to check on things and relay his instructions." Her voice came muffled through the mask.

Sophia saw her approach and turned her face away in disgust. "Get out."

Isabella laughed softly and leaned down, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Sophia, James just said the thing in your belly is a bastard. Keeping it would only be shameful. Better to get rid of it cleanly."

Her voice was gentle, but laced with ice-cold venom.

"You're lying!" Sophia's voice shook.

"Am I?" Isabella straightened and pulled out her phone, playing a recording.

James's voice filled the room. "Get rid of the child. It's a problem that shouldn't exist in the first place. I shouldn't have to spell this out for you."

Just a few seconds, but Sophia felt like she'd been plunged into freezing water.

Isabella watched her face, then turned to the doctor. "Induce labor. Get it done."

The doctor hesitated. "A five-month induction carries serious risks. The patient is emotionally unstable."

"James's instructions were very clear," Isabella interrupted. "For the patient's safety, proceed with the surgery immediately."

The doctor glanced at the monitor showing the fetus's unstable heart rate, then at Sophia. Finally, he nodded. "Prepare for induction."

"No! I want my baby! James! Where are you!" Sophia screamed, struggling to get off the table, but the nurses held her down.

Isabella stepped back, her mouth curving beneath the mask.

A cold needle pierced Sophia's spine. Her lower body gradually went numb, but her consciousness remained sharp.

She watched as cold forceps extracted a small, curled limb—something that looked like an arm.

More fragments followed. Finally, a tiny, unformed head.

Its eyes were closed. When it seemed to meet her wide-open gaze, her heart stopped. The pain stole her breath.

Isabella stepped forward and picked up the tray. She dumped the remains on the floor. Blood spattered across the floor.

"Sophia, look closely. This kind of bastard deserves to be crushed."

She smiled and lifted her foot, grinding down hard.

"No!" Sophia screamed. She threw herself off the operating table and shoved Isabella aside.

Her eyes were bloodshot, her hands trembling as she carefully gathered the fragments and cradled them against her chest.