Part 2Rebirth In The Womb For My Mothers Revenge

Delilah, perched comfortably on Grant’s lap, quickly suppressed the upturn of her mouth, instantly reverting to her look of gentle compassion.

Grant’s eyebrows locked tight. He stared at my mother.

“You’ve thought this through? If it is a bastard, waiting another week isn’t going to change that. It won’t become my child.”

He leaned forward, his voice dangerously low.

“When the results come back—and if it proves you right? Ha. I’ll have it printed on flyers. I’ll make sure everyone sees exactly what garbage you, Jules Kingston, have been carrying.”

Delilah gently set down her teacup, her tone soft. “Grant, don’t talk like that. How could Jules betray you? I’m sure she’s innocent.”

She turned to my mother, her face full of sympathy and encouragement. “Jules, don’t worry. Grant has a sharp tongue, but I’m sure he’ll find the most reputable expert to give you and the baby the fairest result.”

She stood up and approached my mother, reaching out to take her hand.

It was then that Delilah let out a sharp cry of pain. She clutched her stomach, swayed, and looked moments from collapsing.

“Delilah!”

Grant launched himself across the room, shoving my mother hard out of the way.

My mother stumbled backward. The sheer force of his push sent her reeling, and her hip bone slammed into the sharp corner of the dining room table. She gasped, doubling over in pain, her face draining of color.

Grant didn't spare her a glance. He swept the moaning Delilah into his arms, his face etched with panic.

“To the hospital, now!”

He carried Delilah straight out the door.

My mother gripped the table’s edge, slowly straightening up. She bit her lip until it was raw, determined not to make a sound.

That evening, the bedroom door was kicked open. Grant burst in, radiating cold fury, his eyes bloodshot.

He stormed straight to the bed, grabbed my mother’s arm, and brutally yanked her onto the floor!

She was still on the carpet when Grant, frenzied, flipped the entire mattress.

Beneath it, a cloth effigy—a handmade voodoo doll—was revealed, covered in sharp pins. Scrawled on its chest were Delilah’s name and birth date.

Grant’s breathing turned ragged. He spun around and glared at my mother, his face a mask of pure hatred.

“It wasn’t me…” My mother saw the object and quickly shook her head.

“You bitch!” Grant roared, raising his hand and smashing a blow across my mother’s face!

She reeled from the impact, blood instantly blooming at the corner of her mouth.

She clutched her rapidly swelling cheek, tears streaming, her voice trembling.

“It’s really not me… I don’t know where that thing came from…”

“Still lying?!” Grant leaned down, seizing her hair and forcing her to look up at his twisted face. “No wonder Delilah suddenly had stomach pains this afternoon! You’re pulling low-class tricks! You tried to kill her and my son, didn’t you?!”

“I didn’t…” My mother’s scalp was screaming. Tears blurred her vision.

Grant pointed a shaking finger at her face, his words spitting with venom.

“Jules Kingston, you listen to me. If Delilah and that baby suffer any harm, I will make sure you, and your entire family, pay the price!”

Hearing her family was implicated, my mother’s eyes widened in panic.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in her face, she lunged forward, grabbing the hem of his trousers.

“Grant! Please, no! Don’t involve my father! I swear, I didn’t do this! You have to investigate…”

Grant’s face was nothing but revulsion. He kicked out violently at her stomach.

“Get off me!”

My mother curled into a ball, groaning in pain.

Grant threw the effigy down beside her, then stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.

The moment Grant was gone, my mother’s sobs ceased.

She moved to the corner of the room, reaching up to the vase, and flipped the switch on the miniature spy camera hidden inside.

Then, from the folds of her nightgown, she pulled out several custom-made, thick padding cushions.

My mother gently touched her belly.

“Baby, four more days.”

The next morning, there was a commotion downstairs.

The bedroom door was thrust open, and Delilah swept her eyes across the room, finally resting them on my mother.

She raised her chin and ordered the staff behind her.

“What are you waiting for? Throw everything in this room—everything that belongs to her—out into the hall!”

The housekeepers rushed in, roughly grabbing my mother’s clothes and belongings and tossing them onto the carpet outside the door.

Delilah, holding her side, slowly walked closer, meeting my mother’s gaze.

“This master suite is mine now.”