Part 3Rebirth In The Womb For My Mothers Revenge

My mother was relocated to the tiny storage room. Grant stood in the doorway, his silhouette blocking the meager light.

“Your father’s private jet lost contact over the Atlantic. Three days of searching, and nothing. Kingston Corp. is headless. The stock is tanking, and the old board members are in chaos.”

He took a step closer.

“Jules, I’ve had my eye on your father’s new materials company for a long time. Your old man was too stubborn to let go.”

My mother shot her head up, her face draining of color. Her lips trembled.

“You… what are you planning?”

“Strike while the patient’s dying.” Grant pulled his mouth into a cruel half-smile. “The time for a hostile takeover is now. The resistance is minimal, the cost negligible. In a few days, that company will be a Harrington asset.”

“Grant Harrington!” My mother struggled to her feet and lunged, grabbing his arm. “That’s my father’s life’s work! You can’t do this! For the sake of our years together, for the sake of the baby in my…”

“The sake of what?” Grant flung her hand off. My mother stumbled back. “The identity of the thing in your belly is still questionable. You want to talk about ‘sake’ with me, Jules?”

Delilah’s sweet voice suddenly chirped from the hallway. “Grant! My stomach is hurting so badly…”

Delilah leaned against the doorframe, tears welling instantly.

Grant looked back at my mother, his eyes full of nothing but frigid disdain.

“You curse! If Delilah or the baby suffers the slightest complication, ten of your lives won’t be enough to repay it!”

Delilah nestled into his arms, breathing softly, but her eyes flickered toward my mother, a flash of victory in their depths.

Grant tightened his embrace.

“Jules, starting today, you will serve Delilah. You will do whatever she asks. When her mood is light, when her stomach no longer hurts, that’s when I’ll consider going easy on your father’s affairs.”

My mother stood frozen, swaying slightly. The light in her eyes extinguished, leaving behind only the dead gray of utter desolation.

“All right.” She heard her voice—dry and cracked.

Delilah’s mouth, almost against her will, curved into a triumphant smile.

The orders began immediately.

In the dead of winter, Delilah had the staff bring a huge basin of steaming hot water, then poured in enough cold water to make it painful. She pointed to a mountain of baby clothes.

“Hand-wash them. The machine doesn’t clean them thoroughly enough, and it’s bad for the baby’s skin.”

My mother rolled up her sleeves and plunged her hands in. Her skin instantly flushed red, then turned an agonizing blue-white. She grit her teeth, scrubbing one item after another.

Delilah sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows, sipping hot tea, watching leisurely.

A few days later, Delilah “heard” that a historic St. Jude’s Chapel on the ridge outside the city was the most miraculous for blessing an unborn child.

“Jules, why don’t you make the pilgrimage for me? It has to be sincere. A kneeling walk, all the way from the base to the chapel doors. Only then will the blessing work.”

My mother glanced at the miniature spy camera hidden in her clothes. Slowly, she answered, “I will.”

The mountain wasn't Everest, but for a pregnant woman, every step was torturous.

My mother, dressed in heavy clothes, struggled to bend, kneel, rest her forehead on the frozen ground, and then brace herself up to take three small steps forward, repeating the agonizing process.

Her forehead was soon streaked with dirt. Her knees ached and bruised even through the thick fabric.

Several hikers stopped, staring, whispering. Someone even filmed it and posted it online.

That evening, my mother dragged her exhausted body back. Before she could sit, a teacup flew past her head.

She didn't manage to duck. A sharp pain bloomed above her eyebrow. She clutched her bleeding temple and looked at Grant, who had just walked in.

Grant frowned, glancing at the shattered porcelain on the floor and the cut on my mother’s head.

“What happened here?”

“She hurt herself! She wasn’t careful!” Delilah rushed to Grant, crying theatrically. “I just asked her if it was cold on the mountain. She stood up too fast and hit the corner of the table… and she glared at me! Grant, I’m scared. Does she hate me? Does she hate our baby?”

Grant held Delilah close, comforting her. When he looked at my mother, only ice remained.

“Clumsy fool. You’ve upset Delilah. Go clean that wound up, and stop standing there, you’re an eyesore.”

My mother lowered her gaze, saying nothing. She silently turned to look for the first aid kit.

It was then her phone rang.

The voice on the other end was heavy and urgent. My mother's face grew paler and paler.

She hung up and turned to Grant.

“My father… the authorities have virtually ruled out a rescue. My uncle needs me to return to the estate… for the wake.”

Delilah lifted her head from Grant’s chest, her eyes darting quickly. She spoke in a delicate whisper.

“Grant, going back to her family now… but Jules still hasn’t taken the paternity test.”

Grant’s face darkened at once.

“Jules, you are not going anywhere! You wait for the test in three days! Going home now? What, do you think your bastard will suddenly become legitimate if you leave?”

“That is my father!” My mother’s voice trembled.

“And?” Grant was utterly indifferent. “You step outside that door, and you don’t come back. I’ve already secured the arrangement with the Kingston board; your father’s company will be mine soon enough. What could you possibly change by going back?”

My mother covered her face, her shoulders shaking violently, tears leaking through her fingers.

Delilah watched her completely shatter, then plucked a grape from the nearby fruit bowl.

After carefully peeling the skin, she held it out in front of my mother's head.

“Catch, now. Don’t want you staining the rug.”

My mother’s body froze. The crying stopped instantly.

A few seconds later, she opened her palm.

At the exact same moment, a text message arrived on her phone.

“Jules, are you sure Dad’s ‘death’ will flush out the corporate traitor? And will anyone really want to buy that failing company we set up?”

Inside the womb, I stretched out a tiny limb. Of course they will.