Evelyn POV:

The news spread like wildfire through the consortium' s elite circles, barely three months after Belen and Dedric' s hurried marriage. Belen was pregnant.

Three months. That was impossibly fast, even for human gestation. For a pure-blood like Dedric, it usually took longer. My stomach churned with a strange mix of suspicion and morbid curiosity.

I saw her myself at a public luncheon hosted by the Morgan family. There was no denying it. Belen' s belly was already noticeably rounded, far too much for a mere three months. She glowed with a triumphant, arrogant pride.

The Morgan family, despite the recent scandal with Dedric almost losing his engagement to me, was now in full celebration. Dedric, puffed up with self-importance, beamed at everyone, accepting congratulations as if he had personally orchestrated a miracle. This child, he clearly believed, was his ticket to reclaiming his family's prestige and securing his bid for Chairman.

The guests, a flock of social vultures, cooed and fawned over Belen, offering sycophantic praise. Everyone assumed this child would be the definitive "first heir," the future leader. No one even considered the possibility of an alternative. The path to power seemed clear for Dedric.

Ingram and I were seated at a table near the back, a deliberate choice on my part to avoid the spotlight. But fate, or perhaps Belen's innate need for an audience, intervened. She spotted me.

Her eyes, gleaming with malice, found mine across the crowded room. She sauntered over, Dedric in tow, her hand protectively cradling her belly.

"Evelyn, darling," she purred, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Fancy meeting you here. I hope you're not too... lonely, back here in the shadows." Her gaze flickered pointedly to my flat stomach. "Some of us are just built to carry on the legacy, aren't we?"

She knew my history, my past struggles with conception, a cruel irony given the painful lengths I' d gone to in my last life for Dedric' s sake. She thought she was hitting a raw nerve.

But I knew something she didn't. Half-beast offspring, if conceived with certain human bloodlines, could develop at an accelerated rate. It explained her rapid pregnancy, but it also hinted at things far more complex, and far more dangerous.

It also meant a much more difficult birth. I remembered the agony of my own childbirth in my past life, prolonged and brutal, endured alone while Dedric was off securing his political alliances. Belen, in her ignorance, thought she was simply fast-tracking her success. She had no idea of the true cost.

I looked at Belen' s swollen belly, a deep sense of pity, not for her, but for the innocent life she was so carelessly using as a weapon. My own children in my past life, innocent pawns in a cruel game. My love for them had been pure, unconditional, never transactional. Belen could never understand that.

"Congratulations, Belen," I said, my voice calm, betraying none of the turmoil within me. "Such... rapid progress. It truly is remarkable."

My words were innocuous enough, but the subtle emphasis on "rapid" and "remarkable" seemed to hit a nerve. Belen's confident facade wavered. Her eyes flickered away, a tell-tale sign of unease.

"Well, some of us are just naturally... efficient," she stammered, recovering quickly, though her voice was a little too high-pitched. She was trying to appear nonchalant, but I could see the sweat beading on her forehead.

"Indeed," I murmured, taking a sip of my wine. "I do hope everything goes smoothly, Belen. Certain... expedited processes can sometimes lead to unforeseen complications, wouldn't you agree?"

Her eyes widened, a flash of genuine fear in them. She tried to laugh it off, but the sound was forced, unnatural. She wasn't used to anyone questioning her reality, especially not me. She expected me to wilt, not to subtly prod at her insecurities.

She looked at Dedric, a desperate plea in her eyes. Dedric, however, was already turning his attention back to the more important guests, leaving Belen to flounder. She was losing her grip, her composure slipping away.

I set my glass down. "Well, I wish you all the best, Belen. May you have exactly what you deserve."

I rose from the table, Ingram rising with me, his hand once again resting protectively on my back. We walked away, leaving Belen standing there, her face a mixture of triumph, fear, and a dawning uncertainty.

Evelyn POV:

The world held its breath. Belen' s labor was a spectacle, an ordeal that dragged on for what felt like an eternity. News reports, carefully filtered by the powerful Morgan family, spoke of unforeseen complications, a difficult delivery. The whispers were far more alarming.

Days turned into a week, then more. Still, no official announcement of the birth. No triumphant cry of a newborn heir. Just strained silence from the Morgan estate. My father was beside himself, denied access to his daughter, blocked by Dedric's furious family.

I knew. I knew something was terribly wrong with the child. Belen's desperate rush, the unnatural speed of her pregnancy-it had to have consequences.

Then, the summons came. My father, his voice tight and urgent over the phone, demanded my presence at the Morgan estate.

"Evelyn, you have to come," he pleaded, his usual authoritarian tone replaced by a desperate tremor. "Dedric's family is... furious. Belen... she's in a bad way."

Ingram, who had been listening quietly, placed a hand on my arm. "You don't have to go, Evelyn," he said, his amber eyes filled with concern. "It sounds like a trap."

I shook my head. "No. This is it. The culmination of her schemes. I need to see it for myself." I looked at him. "Will you come with me?"

He squeezed my hand. "Always."

The Morgan estate was a scene of utter chaos. Servants scurried like frightened mice. Doctors, their faces grim, moved with an air of defeat. And in one of the opulent drawing rooms, Belen lay sprawled on a plush sofa, disheveled, pale, and utterly broken. Her eyes were vacant, staring at the ceiling. A small, blanket-wrapped bundle lay silently in the arms of a grim-faced nurse nearby.

Dedric stood over Belen, his face contorted with a furious disgust I had never seen, not even when I had first revealed my past-life pregnancy to him. Belen, seeing him, whimpered.

"It's yours, Dedric! It's yours!" she cried, her voice hoarse, raw with desperation. "I swear it! It's our heir!"

Dedric scoffed, a harsh, ugly sound. "My family's bloodline is pure, Belen. Generations of unblemished purity. This... thing... it is not ours."

His gaze flickered to the silent bundle, a look of pure revulsion on his face. The nurse instinctively clutched the baby tighter.

"It's your fault!" Dedric roared, pointing a trembling finger at Belen. "Your greed! Your deceit! You have ruined our name!"

"No! Dedric, please!" Belen wailed, trying to sit up, but falling back weakly. "He's the first heir! He has to be!"

"Silence!" Dedric snarled, his voice thick with menace. "Or I will make you regret the day you ever conceived this... mistake."

My father stepped forward, his face pale. "Dedric, please, calm down. There must be a mistake. Belen wouldn't... she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize our alliance." He looked at Belen, a desperate plea in his eyes.

Belen, seeing her father's familiar weakness, tried one last desperate tactic. She stretched out a trembling hand to Dedric, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Dedric, my love, you know how much I wanted this. I wanted to give you the first heir, to secure your future. Please, don't abandon me."

Dedric, however, merely stared at her with cold, dead eyes. He walked over to the nurse and, with a grimace, took the blanket-wrapped baby from her arms.

The baby, disturbed by the sudden movement, let out a small, soft whimper.

That sound.

It was faint, almost imperceptible amidst the chaos, but it pierced through me, sharp and agonizing. It was the sound of a newborn cry. And suddenly, I was back there. In my past life. Alone. After the brutal delivery of my first child, a son. Dedric absent, celebrating his political victory. The pain of my body, the overwhelming love for my baby, and the crushing loneliness.

And then, later, the cries of my second child, a daughter, so brief, so fragile. The cries that were silenced too soon.

The room spun. My vision blurred. I felt a wave of nausea, cold sweat breaking out on my skin. My chest tightened, a crushing weight pressing down on me. I gripped Ingram's arm, my knuckles white.

"Evelyn? Are you alright?" Ingram's voice was filled with alarm. He thought I was simply sick, overwhelmed by the scene. He didn't know the ghosts stirring within me.

"I'm fine," I choked out, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. I couldn't break down here. Not now. I had endured worse. And I had a promise to keep to myself. To them.

Belen, completely oblivious to my internal struggle, continued to beg. "Dedric, look at him! He has your eyes! Please, don't do this!"