This Time, My Daughter Lives

This Time, My Daughter Lives A car crash triggered my premature labor, and I was rushed to the ER. Just as my coworker was about to call my mother to sign the surgery consent form, I grabbed her hand, screaming through the blinding pain. "Don't call my mom. Call my mother-in-law." In my past life, my mother had rushed to the hospital. She'd promised to camp out with my sister for the release of a limited-edition designer doll, and she missed it because of me. Furious, my sister eloped with her deadbeat boyfriend, only to be trafficked overseas and killed. My mother was shattered, yet she suddenly showered me with an overwhelming amount of love and care. She told me that for the rest of her life, I was the only daughter she had left to lean on. Guilt-ridden, I bent over backward to be the perfect, devoted daughter. I never could have imagined that on my daughter's first birthday, my mother would slam her car into the three of us, crushing my family to death. As I lay dying, desperately shielding my baby girl with my shattered body, my mother looked down at me, her eyes burning with deranged, murderous hatred. "Your daughter is a curse! If it weren't for her, my Chloe never would have died! You're a curse too! You both deserve to die!" When I opened my eyes again, I stopped my coworker from calling her. This time, she could go wait in line for dolls with her precious daughter all she wanted. I breathed a sigh of relief, but a searing, agonizing pain tore through my abdomen, feeling as though someone were slicing me open with a blade. The doctor was performing a C-section on me without any anesthesia! "Patient's in critical condition! We need to operate immediately!" "Get her family on the phone. I want a signature before anyone takes her in," the surgeon ordered as they rushed my gurney toward the operating room. My coworker, frantic with worry, dialed my mother's number over and over. Nobody picked up. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to soothe my slipping consciousness. "Hang in there, Valerie! Just hold on a little longer. They're taking you into surgery!" The trauma from the wreck made natural delivery impossible; an emergency C-section was my only option. The surgeon kept insisting on a relative's signature. Every time someone asked how much longer we could wait, she ignored them. My coworker's desperate sobs pulled me back from the brink. The tearing, fiery pain wracking my body made me realize the impossible: I was reborn. My past life had started the exact same way. A crash, premature labor, my husband stuck overseas on business. I thought I had no choice but to call my mother. Who could have known Chloe would run off in a fit of rage, leading to her brutal death, which festered into my mother's murderous vendetta that wiped out my husband, my baby, and me? In this life, to keep history from repeating itself, I stopped my coworker from reaching out to her. "Call... my mother-in-law..." Ever since I got married, my mother-in-law had treated me like her own flesh and blood. Whenever she traveled, she bought me designer clothes, gourmet treats, and the latest luxury goods, sending them to me immediately. Worried that public hospitals were chaotic and stressful, she had even insisted on building a state-of-the-art maternity suite right inside the family estate. She worried standard OB-GYNs wouldn't cut it, so she spent a fortune putting top specialists on retainer. She always told me that marrying into their family meant I was truly home, and she would never let her darling girl suffer a single grievance. If it weren't for this freak accident, I would have had a safe, painless delivery right in the comfort of our home. My coworker snapped out of her panic, scrambling to dig through my phone for my mother-in-law's contact info. But before she could dial, a hand clamped down on her wrist. The doctor sneered coldly. "I almost forgot, the patient can sign for herself." "Why bother calling her mother-in-law? Just sign it yourself, and I'll cut you open. It's just popping out a kid, no need to summon an entire crowd." "If you ruin your mother's weekend with Chloe, are you ready to deal with what happens next?" "Restrain her coworker!" "Nobody touches that phone today!" I watched in horror as my coworker was tackled and pinned to the floor. I fought with everything I had, but the orderlies swiftly strapped my wrists and ankles to the operating table. The doctor grabbed my limp hand, forcing my fingers to scribble a signature on the consent form, before picking up a scalpel and stepping toward me. Only then did I notice there were twice as many people in the OR compared to my past life. And the doctor's face was completely unfamiliar. She wasn't the surgeon from before. Wait. I had seen her somewhere. She was my mother's close friend. Before I could piece it together, she dragged the cold blade across my bare stomach. No epidural. No local numbing. A blinding, razor-sharp agony ripped through my nervous system like wildfire. My body tried to violently curl into a ball, but I couldn't even summon the breath to scream. Peeling back my flesh, the doctor smiled down at me, her voice dripping with cruel amusement. "Don't blame me, darling. Your mother gave specific instructions. No matter what happened to you today, nothing was allowed to interrupt her day with her younger daughter." "If she hadn't been so determined, she wouldn't have pulled strings to put me in charge of your care, or doubled the staff in this room just to keep you quiet." In that single instant, it felt as if a thousand knives were slicing into my soul. Covered in blood, the agonizing pain began to crush my will to live. Had my mother come back too? I couldn't see how else she could have known when I'd need surgery. Instead of warning me about the crash, she'd put her friend in charge and made sure I couldn't reach her. Even without the tragic butterfly effect of the past, she had abandoned me to die without a second thought.I had always known my mother was emotionally distant from me. After all, we were separated at birth, and Chloe had spent eighteen years basking in her affection as the daughter of the house. Still, my mother had shown some pity for the horrific abuse I endured during those eighteen lost years, treating me with what I thought was gentle affection. In my past life, when she learned of my early labor, she had dropped everything and rushed to the hospital. Because of her presence, I successfully delivered my daughter. Chloe, on the other hand, missed the limited-edition toy drop because our mother wasn't there to buy it for her. Infuriated that the stock had sold out, she ran away with her punk boyfriend, only to fall into the hands of traffickers who beat her to death. The day my mother went to identify Chloe's battered corpse, she wept until she collapsed, passing out multiple times from grief. Yet the moment the funeral rites ended, she began visiting my home daily, obsessively offering to help raise my baby. She would murmur that my little girl was probably Chloe's soul coming back to her. Whenever the baby cried, my mother was the first to sprint over. She understood my child's tiny quirks better than I did. Yet on my baby's first birthday, while the family was preparing for the celebration, my mother slammed her foot on the gas and aimed her SUV straight at me. My husband shoved my daughter and me out of the way. I watched in paralyzing horror as my mother crushed him beneath the heavy tires, then reversed and charged toward me again. She ran over us repeatedly, venting her sick vengeance until she was certain we were broken, bloody corpses. As the darkness claimed me, her venomous screech echoed in my ears. "Why wasn't it you who died?!" "Why did you have to come back?! So what if the hospital switched you at birth? Chloe is the only daughter I recognize!" "You should have stayed gone! You had no right to steal Chloe's life!" "You're a jinx! The moment you showed up, everyone's life was ruined! You should be burning in hell to pay for what happened to Chloe!" It was August, the asphalt radiating oppressive waves of heat. Drowning in my own blood, I looked over at my mangled husband. Even in his final seconds, his dying eyes were filled with desperate worry for me. I looked at my one-year-old daughter, so tiny, so sweet, curled against my shattered chest, too terrified to do more than whimper softly. And then, their lights went out. My mother's twisted, demonic expression carved itself into my soul. I supposed my entire life had been written as a sick tragedy from the start. I was switched at birth and spent eighteen years in the mountains. For ten of those years, the man who bought me starved and beat me. At eighteen I was brought to the people I was told were my biological parents. I found no love there, either. I walked on eggshells, obedient and desperate to earn a shred of their affection, yet all they ever gave me was blatant favoritism toward Chloe. I swallowed every humiliation and yielded every single time. Yet Chloe's tragic fate was somehow blamed entirely on me. If I had known she would die, I never would have called our mother. But I had been bleeding out from a car crash. I had been terrified. I had only wanted my mother by my side. The agonizing memory of being crushed under a car seemed to blur together with the burning sensation of cold steel slicing through my belly. My vision began to darken as I lost more blood. Suddenly, a sharp ringtone pierced the air. I dragged air into my lungs, fighting to stay conscious. It was my phone. The doctor moved to silence it, but my coworker screamed from the floor, "That's Justin! Her husband is calling! If you decline that call, he'll know something's wrong!" "You forced my coworker to sign because you're terrified of leaving a paper trail! You think Helen can protect you? Justin holds far more power in this city than she ever will!" Helen was my biological mother. The doctor's face darkened with hesitation, her hands freezing mid-motion. Hope flared in my chest. Gritting my teeth against the blinding pain, I forced words past my lips. "All I care about... is having this baby safely. If you... do the surgery properly... I'll consider you my savior... I won't press charges..." It took monumental effort just to get those few words out. Cold sweat drenched my skin, but I forced myself to finish: "I... I promise." The doctor's features contorted into a sick sneer. "Do I look like an idiot to you?" She raised the scalpel, her eyes dead and cold. "Doesn't matter. The second I collect the wire transfer, I'm boarding a flight overseas. Your husband is stuck halfway across the country. There's no way he makes it back in time." "Today, you both die on this table!" The phone kept ringing, echoing relentlessly through the room, unanswered. Eventually, the ringing died out. As I felt the frigid steel press back against my exposed flesh, the eerie silence around me plunged my soul into absolute despair. Lying pinned to the cold metal table, I realized this was truly the end. I was so sorry for dragging my innocent coworker into this. And my precious baby girl wouldn't even get the chance to take her first breath. My consciousness drifted into a heavy fog, my body growing numb and cold. Just as I hovered on the threshold of death, the heavy double doors of the OR were violently kicked open. A furious, piercing shout shattered the silence. "Touch my daughter, and I will tear you limb from limb!"I forced my heavy eyelids open, shock and overwhelming relief washing over me. It was my mother-in-law. Panic flashed across the rogue doctor's face before my mother-in-law's private security team swarmed the room, instantly tackling and pinning the staff to the floor. My mother-in-law rushed straight to the table, grasping my trembling hands tightly. "Don't be afraid, darling. Mom's here." I saw fear in her face. At a signal from her, the guards pulled the bribed staff out of the room. One helped my coworker to her feet and led her out of the way. "I brought my own surgical team," she said, leaning over me. "They're prepping to take over right now." "Did they really start without anesthesia? My poor girl." "Mom is here. I'm staying right beside you. Get the anesthesiologist in here and deliver my daughter's baby right now!" My mother-in-law had called me "daughter" for as long as I could remember. She had always sworn to pamper me as her own, and she had never failed to deliver on that promise. Seeing her standing over me brought an overwhelming sense of safety. Tears spilled over my lashes, hot and uncontrollable. She dabbed my cheeks and stepped back while the anesthesiologist took over. The team put up a drape between my face and the incision. The new surgeon waited until the spinal block had taken effect before resuming the operation. My mother-in-law stayed by my head, holding my hand. A thin, fragile wail came from beyond the drape. I couldn't see my baby, but hearing her cry was enough to let me breathe again. Weakly, I whispered that I wanted to hold my daughter. To my bewilderment, my mother-in-law smiled warmly and stroked my hair. "Valerie, sweetheart, I know how much you wanted a girl. But you gave birth to a healthy baby boy." My brow furrowed in utter confusion. If I hadn't already lived through this and raised her for a full year in my past life, I might have actually believed her. I couldn't fathom how turning back the clock could magically alter the biological sex of my child. Assuming she was simply disappointed by a granddaughter, I held her gaze and spoke with absolute certainty. "I gave birth... to a daughter." "You couldn't even see past the drape, and you're still sure," my mother-in-law said, her warm expression fading. "I was hoping to spare you the details, but perhaps it's better if you know." Watching her mask slip so drastically sent a jolt of dread through my spine. "What are you saying?" Her tone remained soft, but her voice carried a chilling, calculating frost. "Surviving in high society isn't as simple as being pretty, Valerie. You need a son to secure your position and inherit the empire." "Look at me. It was only because I gave birth to Justin that I solidified my status as the uncontested matriarch of the family. No matter how many mistresses his father keeps on the side, none of them can ever threaten my throne." "I truly adore you as my daughter-in-law. When has a mother-in-law ever looked out for her son's wife like this? You need to understand the sacrifices I'm making for your future." Staring at her, my eyes widened in horror, and I shook my head violently. No. "I only want... my daughter." In my past life, my baby had suffered a brutal, undeserved death. I owed her a lifetime of protection; all I wanted was for her to grow up safe and whole. I didn't care about securing status or inheriting billions. I just wanted my baby girl. Clutching my stitched abdomen, I grabbed the hem of my mother-in-law's gown, weeping and pleading. "Justin isn't like that. You're his mother, you know him better than anyone." "He would never look down on a daughter!" My baby had arrived early; she was so tiny, so fragile. If my mother-in-law cast her out, a child that weak wouldn't survive the night. Seeing me beg so desperately, a dark resentment twisted my mother-in-law's face. The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them: "How on earth did I give birth to such a spineless, pathetic daughter?!" "What?!" The revelation hit me like a physical blow, knocking the breath straight from my lungs. Seeing that the secret was out, she abandoned all pretense of restraint. She leaned down, pinning my shoulders ruthlessly against the operating table, her eyes ablaze with bitter frustration. "You idiot! I've spent decades orchestrating every single move, and this was the final piece!" "Men talk a big game about loving daughters, but every single one of them wants a male heir to carry the name." "You can only inherit the family fortune if you produce a son!" "It's just one useless girl! If she's gone, she's gone! You should learn from me. A little temporary suffering buys an eternity of unimaginable wealth and power!" She motioned to an orderly, who came in carrying a boy in a blue blanket. Behind him, the nurse who had received my daughter was settling her into a bassinet. I could see both babies now. "Look. This is your son from now on." Meeting her ruthless gaze, the full scope of her cruelty dawned on me. A violent tremble racked my entire body. "What... what are you going to do with my daughter?" A glint of savagery flickered in her eyes. "If you had stayed ignorant, I would have had her placed somewhere far away. Whether her frail little body survived would have been up to fate." "I don't go out of my way to kill innocent blood." "But you just had to be so clever. You just had to know it was a girl. So don't blame me for being heartless." "A mother only accepts reality when the child is dead. If I let her live, you'll spend every waking hour searching for her behind my back, and that will ruin everything I've built." With that, she reached into the bassinet, lifting my tiny daughter, her fingers curling around the baby's fragile throat. A primal scream tore from my throat. "NO! STOP!" The surgeon had just closed the incision, and my legs were still numb from the spinal block. Driven by sheer adrenaline, I fought to sit up, only to be shoved violently back onto the table. I sobbed hysterically, begging her to spare my child. "Don't hurt her! Tell everyone we had twins! I'll play along, I swear I'll do whatever you say!" My mother-in-law ignored my pleas, her grip tightening visibly. A weak, strangled whimper escaped my daughter's lips—sounding horrifyingly identical to the day she died under the wheels of the car. Frantic, I thrashed against the nurses holding me down, clawing forward without regard for my torn stitches, desperate to rip my baby from her hands. Even with only two guards left in the room, they easily pinned my shattered, bleeding body flat against the cold metal. As my daughter's tiny cries began to fade into an agonizing silence, a chaotic commotion suddenly erupted from the corridor outside. "Mr. Hayes! Sir, they're performing surgery! You can't go in there!" "Stop him! Quick, hold Mr. Hayes back—"