"That was not my mom! She can barely walk—there's no way she could move that quickly. Besides, my mom died a week ago! Unless she's risen from the dead, that woman isn't her!"
Freya was still trying to pin the blame on my mother. "Ada, I know your mom did this to get back at me for how things are between us. I don't blame her, but please, can you just make her return my medication? Without it, I could seriously be in trouble."
My response was to get up and slap her across the face. "Shut up! How dare you even mention my mom? Your period ended ages ago; stop pretending like you're still suffering. And I told you, that person in the video isn't her!"
As soon as I finished speaking, David suddenly launched a kick that sent me sprawling to the floor. The impact jolted my belly against the cold ground, and a wave of cold sweat washed over me.
I curled up, clutching my stomach, rolling on the icy floor, my face drained of color.
In his rage, David didn't notice anything amiss; his foot pressed down hard on my abdomen.
"Ada, you've lost your mind. Just a couple of days ago, your mom sneaked in and switched Freya's medication, and now you're telling me she's dead? If you're going to lie, at least make it a believable one."
Freya chimed in, her expression disapproving as she looked at me. "Ada, even if my period is over, the doctor said that medication helps ease the pain during that time. And even if you don't want your mom to hand it over, you shouldn't be cursing her like this."
Cursing? If only it were that simple—it would at least prove she was still alive.
I forced a pale smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "I told you, my mom is dead. She didn't steal the medication. If you don't believe me, go ahead and ask her yourself—if you can find her down there."
"You're asking for it!"
My words sent David into a fury.
He kicked me several more times, each blow aimed precisely at my belly.
I was only two months pregnant, and the jabs were enough to send a hot rush flooding out from beneath me.
I had once yearned for a child, hoping it would bridge the gap between us.
But now, I hadn't found the right moment to tell him.
After Fiona's death, I had decided to divorce David, still weighing whether to keep the baby.
But now, it didn't matter—his father had already made that decision for him!