The Womanizer's Mute Wife-Chapter 260: Babies, Don’t Leave Me

GENESIS

I blinked my eyes open and immediately squeezed them shut again as harsh light stabbed through my lids. My head throbbed like someone had taken a hammer to it. My mouth tasted like blood and dust.

Slowly, I cracked my eyes again.

The ceiling above me was high, coffered, familiar in the sickest way possible.

I knew it, I used to stare at it for hours when I was locked in here as a child.

I was in my old bedroom at the Caldwell Estate.

My heart slammed so hard I felt it in my throat.

"Sleeping beauty finally awakens."

The voice was venomous, mocking, dripping with something unhinged.

Ice poured down my spine.

I pushed myself up on shaking arms, one hand flying instinctively to my stomach. The babies kicked, frantic, and hard as if they could sense the danger.

Jimmy stood at the foot of the bed.

Hair wild and matted. Clothes torn, filthy. Eyes glittering with madness. A smile stretched too wide across his face, deranged, bat-shit crazy.

It all rushed back in a sickening flood.

An hour ago

I pushed open the heavy wooden double doors of the Caldwell mansion.

They creaked like old bones.

Dust swirled into my face, carried on stale air that smelled of neglect.

I didn’t step inside right away.

My heart was pounding so violently I could feel it in my fingertips, in the babies.

Why was I even here?

I rubbed slow circles over my enormous stomach, I was massive now, whale-like, waddling more than walking. I barely recognized my own body anymore. I didn’t think the house would recognize me either. I wasn’t the skinny, terrified girl who’d been dragged out of here a year ago.

I looked down at my belly.

"Relax, mommy just wants to say goodbye to Grandpa’s house one last time, okay? Then we’ll go home to Daddy. Promise.’"

The house was dark, unnaturally so, like it had been holding its breath since the last time someone lived here. I reached to the side, fingers fumbling along the wall until I found the old brass switch. The lights snapped on with a soft click.

Sudden brightness flooded the foyer, the chandelier above glittering like it used to on Christmas nights. My heart thudded painfully against my ribs. This place was burnt into me, every corner, every shadow. There had been good memories once... back when Dad was still alive.

I stepped further inside, shoes whispering against the marble. My eyes drifted to the sitting area. For a moment, the room wasn’t empty.

I saw him, Dad, chasing a much smaller version of me around the wingback chairs, both of us laughing like the world couldn’t touch us. He’d finally catch me, scoop me up high, then drop me gently onto the soft cushion.

"Here comes the tickle bomb!" he’d roar, fingers dancing over my sides until I was shrieking with helpless giggles.

The memory hit like a fist. Tears blurred the empty chair in front of me now. That laughter had died with him. After the funeral, the house turned cold. Monica moved in like a conquering army, her sons trailing behind her like jackals. The tickle bombs became slaps, the laughter became silence, and I became the intruder in my own home.

I hadn’t stepped foot here since the day I came to drive Monica and her spawn out for good—back when I still believed winning the house back would feel like justice.

I walked further in. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be here. I’d lied to my family, said I was running to the store for somethings. Kieran was still asleep, lashes dark against his cheeks, completely unaware I’d slipped out. He would never have let me come. He’d have carried me back to bed and locked the doors himself if he knew I was anywhere near this place.

But I had to.

I just... had to.

My feet carried me toward the study almost against my will. The door was already ajar. I pushed it open.

Behind the massive oak desk, the portrait still hung, larger than life.

Anthony Caldwell stared down at me with kind, steady eyes and small upturned nose. The same nose I saw in the mirror every morning.

"Dad," I whispered.

Tears spilled over before I could stop them.

I shuffled closer, one hand braced on the desk, the other cradling the heavy curve of my belly.

"I wish you were here," I said brokenly. "I wish you could see them, your grandbabies. They’re so big now... kicking like they’re already running. I think the boy’s going to be just like you—stubborn, always moving. I wanted you to hold them. I wanted you to tell them the stupid pirate stories you used to tell me. I wanted..."

My voice cracked.

"I just wanted you to be here."

I pressed my forehead against the cool frame for a moment, breathing in the faint scent of old wood and varnish like Dad’s aftershave still lingered somehow.

I was about to turn away, about to force myself to leave this haunted place, when a shadow filled the doorway.

My heart plummeted.

Jimmy stood there, ragged clothes hanging off his thinner frame, hair wild and greasy, eyes glittering with something manic. A wide, unhinged smile stretched across his face.

"Hello, sister," he drawled, voice thick with mockery. "Came to pay your homage too?"

I stumbled back a step. "Stay away from me. Don’t....don’t come any closer."

He laughed, a low, ugly sound and took a deliberate step forward.

"I’m closer," he said, tilting his head. "What you gonna do, huh? Call your big bad husband? Go on, scream for him. He’s not here." His smile twisted darker. "No one’s coming to save you this time, Genesis. Not Kieran. Not your daddy. Nobody."

I edged around the side of the desk. He mirrored me instantly, cutting off the path to the door.

"Nowhere to run, whale," he sneered, eyes dropping pointedly to my stomach. "You look ridiculous, you know that? Waddling in here like you still belong."

Panic clawed up my throat. My hand closed around the first thing I could reach—a heavy crystal paperweight shaped like a horse. I hurled it at his head.

He ducked with a curse. The paperweight smashed against the wall behind him.

I bolted or tried to. My body felt slow, heavy, betraying me at every step. I made it two strides before a hand fisted in my hair.

Pain seared through my scalp as strands ripped free. I screamed.

Jimmy yanked me back viciously. My back slammed against his chest.

"Thought you could just stroll in and out?" he hissed in my ear, breath hot and sour. "Thought you could take everything and leave me with nothing?"

Something sharp pricked the side of my neck, cold, then burning.

My vision swam.

My knees buckled.

The last thing I saw was Dad’s portrait watching me fall, his painted eyes full of sorrow.

Then darkness swallowed everything.

Back in the present:

I blinked up at the ceiling of my old bedroom, hand still protectively curled over my stomach. The mocking voice, Jimmy’s voice still echoed in my ears.

"Sleeping beauty finally awakens."

He stood at the foot of the bed, that same deranged smile splitting his face.

My blood turned to ice.

He stepped closer.

And I realized with sickening clarity the danger I was in.

Jimmy moved closer, slowly, like a predator savoring the hunt. I pushed myself up slowly, using the wall for support, one hand still cradling my stomach. The babies kicked again as if begging me to run.

He stopped just out of reach, head corked, that wild smile never leaving his face.

"Remember this place?" he said softly, almost tenderly. "We had so many amazing memories. I used to enjoy hearing you scream."

Tears poured down my face in hot streams.

I shook my head.

No, this could not be happening.

It had to be a dream. It has to

"Please... please let me go. My babies..."

He looked down at my stomach, at the round swell under my gown and his expression twisted into pure disgust.

"Those things?" he spat. "They’re abominations. You let that bastard put them in you. I’m going to rip them out. Fuck you while you bleed. Then I’ll send it to that bastard. Let him see what happens when you steal from me."

I sobbed, terrified, my chest heaving.

I tried to run.

My legs were heavy, swollen, uncooperative but adrenaline surged.

I lunged toward the door.

He was faster.

His hand fisted in my hair, hard.

Pain ripped through my scalp as strands tore free like the last time.

He yanked me back violently.

I screamed.

He spun me around and smacked me with full force across the face.

My head snapped to the side. Stars burst behind my eyes. Blood filled my mouth.

He shoved me forward, my front slammed against the wall, cheek pressed to cold plaster.

He raised my gown above my ass, rough, tearing the fabric.

His palm cracked down hard, harder, stinging.

I cried out.

"Stop! Please!"

"Quiet," he snarled, breath hot against my ear, "or I’ll rip your stomach open right now and pull them out while you’re still breathing."

Tears streamed endlessly.

He yanked my underwear down, rough, tearing the lace completely. It slipped to my ankles.

"Look at you," he whispered, voice thick with sick arousal. "Still so fucking pretty. All swollen and ripe. I’m going to fuck you until you break. Until you beg me to kill you. Then I’ll cut those things out and watch you bleed to death on the floor you used to crawl on as a kid."

I sobbed louder, raw, wrenching, body shaking uncontrollably.

My eyes darted wildly around the room.

There, on the windowsill beside me lay a thin, sharp metal letter opener, half-hidden behind a dusty vase.

He was fumbling with his zipper, stroking himself, breath ragged.

I reached for it fast.

My fingers closed around the metal.

I swung back with everything I had.

The blade sank deep into the back of his hand, the one gripping my hair.

"Ahhhhhhh fuckkkk," He screamed.

He stumbled back, clutching his bleeding hand.

My underwear slipped off completely.

I ran.

Out the bedroom door, down the hallway, bare feet slapping the wood.

He roared behind me.

"I’m gonna kill you!"

I reached the grand staircase overlooking the double doors.

I rushed down, one hand on the banister, the other cradling my stomach, trying to protect the babies with every step.

He was right behind me, footsteps thundering.

I was on the last four steps when he shoved me hard between the shoulder blades.

I lost my balance.

I fell.

I rolled, hard, painful tumbles, my body curling instinctively to shield my stomach.

I hit the foyer floor with a sickening thud.

Pain exploded everywhere, back, hips, ribs, stomach.

I screamed.

NOOOOO....MY BABIES

For a moment, there was just silence.

Then Jimmy was above me.

He rolled me onto my back roughly.

"You cunt," he snarled, face twisted with rage.

He pulled a knife from his pocket, long, serrated, glinting in the chandelier light.

"I’m going to kill you. Send your body to that bastard husband. Then kill myself."

He raised the blade high.

I grabbed his wrist with both hands, strength I didn’t know I had surging through me.

I was not dying like this.

My babies were not dying like this.

He laughed like some maniac.

"You think you can stop me?"

He pressed down harder.

The tip of the knife broke skin just above my collarbone.

Blood welled, hot, and sticky.

I screamed again, pure terror filling me, tears trailing down my eyes but I was not going down easily.

The blade sank deeper.