Nine C-Section, Nine Dead Sons, One Escape novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The C–section I’d lost count of. The incision ruptured.

I lay on the operating table as a newborn’s ragged scream tore through the sterile room next door.

My child. Just delivered. And they were already extracting his bone marrow. Ashworth’s childhood sweetheart alive. The one with the blood disease.

Dr. Leonard Voss burst through the doors, stumbling over his own feet. infant’s vitals are crashing. If we take any more…”

Julian’s voice came back flat. No ripple. No hesitation. compatibility results.”

The crying faded. Softer. Weaker. Then nothing.

All to keep Julian

“Mr. Ashworth! The

“Continue. Priscilla is waiting for the

I tried to scream, but my throat locked up. Only the blood kept moving, pumping out of me in hot, silent waves, soaking half the surgical drape.

Julian finally appeared at my side, dabbing sweat from my forehead with tender devotion.

“Vivienne. You pushed Priscilla down the stairs years ago. You wrecked her body. Every child you gave me, every extraction, that’s the debt you owe her.”

“Once you’ve healed up, we’ll make more.”

I nodded. Numb. Mechanical.

He smiled, satisfied. Then he turned and barked at the medical team to move faster.

The baby went silent for good. The moment a tear slipped down my cheek, the system notification

chimed.

[Host emotional collapse detected. Mission complete: Produce multiple offspring for the heirless CEO.

Disconnect from world?]

***

I confirmed.

[In three days, your physical body in this era will expire. Host will then disconnect.]

The system’s cold monotone and Julian’s gentle voice landed at the same time. another child, I’ll love him. I promise.”

Ice spread through my chest.

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He didn’t know. There would be no more children.

I nodded anyway.

After they stitched me up, I dragged myself off the table and staggered toward my dead child.

His tiny face was purple. Needle marks covered his whole body. He hadn’t even made it an hour outside my womb before he stopped breathing.

My hands shook as I gathered him into my arms. I sobbed through the lullabies, tears streaming down my face.

The grief was a live thing, clawing through my ribs.

I choked on my own breath. My knees buckled more than once.

Julian wrapped an arm around me, his voice thick with rehearsed remorse.

We’ll give him the most elaborate funeral…”

Before he could finish, Old Mrs. Ashworth’s assistant arrived.

“I’ll hire the best team.

“Mr. Ashworth. Old Mrs. Ashworth says losing child after child with nothing to show for it has brought

shame upon this family.”

“The board is also murmuring. They expect you to address this.”

Julian glanced at my hollowed–out face and snapped with sudden impatience.

“Vivienne just came

out of surgery. This can wait.”

The assistant pressed on.

“Old Mrs. Ashworth wants to know how you intend to handle your wife. The Ashworth family has no use for a woman who can’t produce an heir.”

My nails bit into my palms until blood welled up. And something flickered in my chest. A hope I should’ve known better than to feed.

I hoped he would tell Old Mrs. Ashworth the truth about how our children died.

From the hallway, a nurse’s panicked voice cut through. spiked again. She can’t keep the medication down…”

“Mr. Ashworth! Miss Holloway’s fever

Julian shoved me into the assistant’s arms and was out the door in three strides.

decide.”

They hauled me back to Ashworth Manor’s old family wing.

“Let my mother

Esther Ashworth sat there, working her rosary beads between her fingers, gazing down at me with

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practiced pity.

“Vivienne. A decade in this family, and not a single child to show for it. They say a woman cursed with bad fortune can’t hold onto her offspring.”

At her signal, two house staff forced me to my knees on the floor. “Today, you kneel in the family chapel and you pray for forgiveness.”

Hidden beneath the rug, broken glass shards drove straight into my kneecaps.

stabbing needles of pain lit up my nerves.

A thousand

She shoved a bowl into my hands, a mess of red and green dried beans all mixed together. “Separate them. Every single one. Think of it as an offering for the children.”

Again.

The ritual was simple. Pick out one bean. Hands together. Forehead to the floor. Say the prayer.

The bowl held hundreds. I didn’t make it halfway before my fresh stitches tore wide open.

Blood gushed, blooming a violent red stain through my silk nightgown.

My

forehead hit the

floor hard. Skin split. Blood snaked down my face.

I lost count somewhere past a hundred, my scalp a mess of open wounds, my throat scraped raw.

The crimson haze thickened until I couldn’t see through it anymore. I sank into the dark.

Somewhere in the fog, someone held my hand and murmured apologies by my bedside.

It just felt noisy.

When I finally forced my eyes open, Priscilla’s syrupy voice drifted in from the outer room. You’re so good to me.”

“I told you I wanted to give you a baby, and you just… swept everything aside for me…”

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“Julian.

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