The doctor looked at me. "Miss Lorelei, I'm sorry to tell you this, but the fetus in your womb didn't survive. The length of the knife that stabbed you pierced your uterus," the doctor explained.
His words didn't register at first. But then, seconds later, tears began to stream down my face. The pain was overwhelming. For the third time, I had suffered a miscarriage. This was supposed to be the reason I fought, the reason I clung to hope, but it seemed fate had other plans. I was not meant to be a mother.
As I recalled my husband's betrayal and my stepsister's treachery, a double blow that left me reeling, I felt a crushing despair. I didn't know if I could even rise from this abyss.
After the doctor left, Dylan stayed by my side, watching me cry. "Why is the world so unfair to me? I haven't done anything wrong, yet I'm constantly punished?" I sobbed.
"Because you're a fool. You let people manipulate you," Dylan said, his words surprisingly comforting.
"It's my fault? I didn't want to be manipulated." I snapped, wiping my tears with a tissue.