Chereads / The Betrayed Wife Strikes Back / Chapter 13 - The Baby Factory

Chapter 13 - The Baby Factory

It's been a week since we left the hospital. I've changed Greg's name to Master, and my daughter now goes by Gold. They both attend the same school as their brother, King.

My family is almost complete, but I won't rest until I find my other missing son.

I visited my friend Beatrice and told her that I would be bringing the kids to her place tomorrow to stay for a month.

She tried to convince me to reconsider, but I told her it was pointless.

"I must get my revenge on those people," I said with resolve.

"You seem to be in a hurry. Is it because of the news about Henry Dragon marrying that witch Monica this Saturday?" she asked, her eyes filled with curiosity.

She was right. I can't allow Henry to marry Monica; it would ruin everything. I had refused to sign the divorce papers he sent me a week ago.

Leaving Beatrice's house, I headed straight to The Dream Hospital and demanded to see Monica.

When I entered her office, she barely looked surprised to see me. She knew I was back in the States.

"What are you doing here? Come to congratulate me on my wedding this Saturday?" she mocked.

I stood up and approached her. "You'd better do exactly as I say, or I'll have you thrown in prison and this hospital shut down."

She laughed, questioning what power I had to do that.

"I know what the top floor of this building is used for," I said, pulling out my phone. "One call will have the media and police swarming in."

She trembled, trying to hide her fear. "What do you want, Andrea?" she asked quietly.

I squeezed her shoulder until she cried out, then released her. "I want you to call Henry and tell him the truth. I know you lied about your pregnancy to trap him into marrying you."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face, then dropped to her knees, begging me.

"You have five seconds before your time runs out," I said, holding out my phone and counting, "2, 3, 4."

She rushed to her phone, dialing Henry's number. As she waited for him to pick up, she asked, "Why did you skip number one when you started counting?"

I could barely look at her. Was this woman mad? Her life was on the line, and all she cared about was that?

When I heard Henry's voice, I instructed her to put the call on speaker.

She began to beg again, but I showed her my phone one last time. "This is your last chance."

"Monica, are you there? Say something," I heard Henry's voice from the other end of the call.

Monica began to confess, her voice trembling. She admitted to lying about her pregnancy, tears streaming down her face. "Please, Henry, forgive me," she pleaded. There was a pause, then Henry's voice came through coldly, "There won't be any wedding," and he hung up.

A smile crept across my face as I listened. Victory tasted sweet. This was just the beginning of my revenge.

Monica couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She turned toward me, her eyes blazing with anger. "I hope you're happy now. But mark my words, you'll regret this day," she spat. She strode over, snatched the phone from my hand, and smashed it against the wall.

As she stormed out of the office, I calmly reached into my purse, pulled out another phone, and dialed the reporter I had confided in earlier. "You can come in with the police now," I said.

Today, I planned to kill two birds with one stone. The first was to have Henry call off the wedding, which he just did. The second was to shut down this corrupt hospital for good.

Did Monica really believe me when I said I wouldn't inform the media or the police if she told Henry the truth? She was more naive than I thought.

Seven minutes later, the reporter called to confirm they were inside the hospital. I quickly left Monica's office and met up with them. Together, we headed straight to the top floor, where the hospital allegedly conducted its heinous activities—stolen babies, illegal sales.

As we reached the top floor, some security guards tried to stop us. It was clear they were hiding something. The police overpowered them, and we pushed our way in.

The floor looked ordinary, just like any other in the building. Nurses and patients went about their routines. Nothing seemed out of place.

I rushed into each room, hoping to find something—anything—but there was nothing incriminating. Just patients resting in their beds.

Confusion set in. What was going on? "This is the floor where the baby factory is supposed to be," I insisted to the police and the reporter, but they were growing skeptical.

They apologized to the staff for the disruption and prepared to leave, disappointed. 

I was certain of what the informant had told me. She definitely said it was the top floor. Could she have lied? But why?

As I stood there, feeling defeated, I noticed the patients glaring at me, their expressions a mix of annoyance and pity. The nurses' faces showed clear disapproval. I felt unwelcome, humiliated.

Turning to leave, I caught sight of Monica standing across the hall, watching me. Her face was calm, almost serene. Was she smiling? It seemed so until her lips moved, forming words silently.

We were too far apart to hear her, but she was definitely whispering. I focused on her lips, deciphering the message.

"I'm always one step ahead of you, Andrea. You were right; the baby factory is on this floor. But you'll never find it. It's hidden. I hope you go crazy trying to figure it out," she mouthed clearly.

My suspicions were confirmed. The operation was here, but its exact location remained a mystery. There must be a secret door or passageway.

In desperation, I tapped my foot, snapped my fingers, clapped my hands, and even uttered "open sesame," hoping to trigger something—anything. But nothing happened; no hidden door appeared.

It was clear that Monica and Mrs. Dragon were the only ones who knew how to access the secret room.

I realized I had to leave for now. But I vowed to return, better prepared, and uncover the truth without being humiliated again. With that resolve, I quickly exited the building before the security guards could escort me out.