The DNA Test That Made Them Kill My Babies

I'd been married into the Sterling family for two years. I'd gotten pregnant twice, but they never let me keep either baby.

It was all because of that fetal DNA test report.

During my first pregnancy, a courier delivered a fetal DNA test the moment I hit eight weeks. Eleanor, my mother-in-law, took one glance at the results and said, "Severe genetic defects. Abort it."

I thought it was just a cruel excuse, but they actually forced me to the clinic and ripped my babies out of me.

My second pregnancy ended the exact same way.

I had tried showing them my ultrasound scans, proving my babies were perfectly normal, but they physically dragged me to the operating table anyway.

And there was always that sickening ritual. Right after the verdict, Eleanor would fetch a vial of brown liquid from the basement and hand it to my father-in-law, Arthur, who was resting in a wheelchair.

For my third pregnancy, I wanted to be absolutely foolproof.

I secretly went to an outside hospital and got a comprehensive prenatal examination. The reports didn't just prove the fetus was one hundred percent healthy—they confirmed the DNA was a perfect match with my husband, Liam.

I thought I was finally safe.

Tonight, when the courier arrived with their DNA test, I intercepted it. I slammed it onto the table along with my thick stack of clean health reports, proving everything was fine.

But surprisingly, Eleanor just skimmed the DNA report and issued the exact same order: Abort it.

My mind went completely blank. Why? The baby was perfectly healthy, and the DNA proved it was a Sterling. Why were they using a single piece of paper as a death warrant?

"This child cannot stay. You must abort it!"

"The clinic is already prepped. You are going with us right now!"

Two massive bodyguards stepped forward, clamping their hands onto my arms and dragging me toward the front doors.

Meanwhile, Eleanor didn't even look at me.

She expertly popped the cork and handed over that sickening bottle of brown potion.

Arthur snatched it from her and gulped it down hungrily.

The thick, sticky liquid dribbled down his chin and onto his blanket.

Fear completely seized me. I dropped my entire dead weight and gripped the armrest of the leather sofa with everything I had.

"No! I'm not going!" I screamed. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with the baby! Why are you forcing me to kill him?!"

I desperately needed an answer, but neither of them would even look me in the eye.

Arthur wiped the liquid from his chin and glared at me.

His sickly pale cheeks suddenly flushed with an extremely unnatural, feverish red.

Seeing me desperately clinging to the sofa, he violently stood up. He ordered the guards to pry my hands off.

"Cut the nonsense! You are our daughter-in-law!" Arthur barked sharply. "When we tell you to abort it, you abort it! Keeping this useless thing benefits no one!"

Feeling my fingers being viciously peeled back one by one, my fear morphed into agonizing pain.

I completely broke down, screaming at the top of my lungs.

"He is completely healthy! He is your own family's flesh and blood! The hospital reports say it clearly! Why are you blindly looking at that stupid piece of paper and forcing me to kill my baby again and again?!"

They ignored my screams entirely. The guards just forcibly hauled me out.

The absolute difference in strength meant I was dragged helplessly across the floor, straight toward the heavy front doors.

I begged them through my tears.

"Eleanor! Arthur! I'm begging you! The baby is innocent! You can't just take his life!"

"Please, look at the hospital reports! Let me keep him!"

Even as I fell to my knees and sobbed, they remained completely unmoved.

Eleanor stared down at me with eyes like ice. "No matter what, the thing in your stomach is dying tonight!"

Just as I was about to give up all hope and accept my fate, the heavy front doors suddenly swung open from the outside.

Standing on the porch were my parents, Robert and Martha. They were sweating from the night air, excitedly holding expensive champagne and pastel baby gifts.

In that split second, I finally saw hope.

"Mom! Dad!" I shrieked, kicking wildly against the guards. "Help me! They're trying to kill my baby!"