A Drawing Sent My Babies to Their Graves Chapter 04

A Drawing Sent My Babies to Their Graves Chapter 04

I didn’t know how I managed to drift back to my room. 

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and Jake walked in. 

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me tightly. into his arms, resting his chin on my head. 

“Daisy, honey, I’m so sorry.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I hate myself so much. I couldn’t protect our baby. But for your sake, and for the sake of the family, I really had no other choice. Can you forgive me?” 

His sickeningly sweet apology made my stomach churn. I felt like I was going to throw up. 

But I just closed my eyes. I didn’t break down into hysterics like last time. 

“Jake,” I hugged him back weakly, burying my face in his chest, feigning total numbness. “I’m tired. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” 

From that night on, I played the part of a woman suffering from post–traumatic stress. 

I became docile and silent, like a lifeless puppet. 

To play the part of the devoted husband, Jake canceled all his corporate meetings and stayed by my side 24/7. He cooked me elaborate, healthy meals every day and hired a private therapist to counsel me at home. 

Look at him–what a picture–perfect husband. 

During the second week after my abortion, Laura put on a loving, maternal face and held my hand with feigned sympathy. “Daisy, you’ve been through so much.” 

George, meanwhile, simply dropped a thick manila envelope onto my nightstand. “This is the deed to an estate in Beverly Hills, along with a check for five million dollars. We were harsh with you before. Consider this compensation. Focus on getting better; the Williams family still needs you.” 

Compensation? 

I stared blankly at the documents, while a murderous, all–consuming hatred boiled inside me. 

Outwardly, though, I just nodded obediently and whispered, “Thank you.” 

Seeing how cooperative I was, they left the room thoroughly satisfied. 

Soon after, Nick called me. 

“Daisy, how are you holding up? Don’t hold it against me for getting rough the other day. I was only doing it for your own good. Now that George and Laura have compensated you, just take the money and enjoy it. 

You’re still young. Once you’re recovered, you can just have another baby, right?” 

Just have another baby, right? Can you believe that? 

This was my own flesh–and–blood brother speaking 

I bit my lip so hard I drew blood, fighting with everything I had not to curse him out. 

“I know, Nick. I won’t cause any more trouble.” I hung up the phone coldly. 

In this house, in this world, I had no one left to rely on. I only had myself. 

Behind everyone’s back, I took the five million dollars George gave me and hired the absolute best private investigators in Los Angeles. I ordered them to keep 24 17 surveillance on every single member of the Williams family. 

At the same time, whenever Jake left the house, I took the opportunity to install state–of–the–art micro- cameras hidden in the bedroom, the living room, and even discreet corners of the dining room. 

I was going to record every single shred of evidence of their crimes. 

Days turned into weeks. Laura started bringing me all sorts of expensive herbal teas on a frequent basis. 

Drink up, Daisy. This works wonders for your recovery.” 

Finally, months later, it happened. 

I stood in the bathroom, staring at the stark, clear double lines on a pregnancy test. 

My third pregnancy. The moment I had been waiting for. 

One weekend, the Williams family hosted a birthday dinner at one of the most exclusive Michelin–starred restaurants in LA. 

Jake sliced a piece of steak and gently placed it on my plate. “Eat up, honey.” 

I put down my knife and fork, picked up my napkin, 

and elegantly dabbed the corner of my mouth. Then, I swept my gaze over all those hypocritical faces around the table. 

“I have an announcement to make.” 

Everyone stopped what they were doing. 

“I’m pregnant,” I said with a smile. “Exactly six weeks along.” 

clatter. The fork in Nick’s hand dropped onto his plate, the noise piercing the quiet room. 

The air in the private dining room froze instantly. 

There were no cheers, no congratulations, none of the joy that a normal family should have upon hearing about the arrival of a new life. The atmosphere 

shifted as if they were bracing for an attack. 

None of them spoke a word. 

Because they were waiting. Waiting for the verdict. 

“Is that so?” George was the first to break the dead silence. There wasn’t a trace of warmth in his voice.” 

That’s good news.” 

“When we get home tonight,” Laura jumped in immediately, her tone leaving zero room for argument, “Billy needs to draw a picture for the baby. 

Looking at their tense, twitching faces, cold, manic laughter echoed in my mind. 

“Of course, Mom,” I replied obediently. 

That night in the living room, the curtains were drawn tight. The atmosphere was so suffocating it made me want to gag. 

The easel was already set up. Laura led Billy, the little demon, into the room by the hand. 

Jake gripped my hand tightly. His palm was slick with cold sweat; he was trembling. 

Billy walked up to me. Reaching out that pale hand of his, he gently pressed it against my lower abdomen, just as he always did. 

At that exact moment, the entire family held their breath in perfect unison. 

Billy kept his eyes closed, pretending to sense something deep inside. Then, he turned around and picked up a paintbrush. 

No one dared to blink. They stared dead at the tip of his brush. 

He didn’t use black. 

Billy dipped his brush straight into bright, dripping, blood–red paint. 

A few minutes later, Billy stopped painting. He turned back around, staring blankly ahead with hollow eyes. 

On the canvas, there was no black bird symbolizing a curse. 

In its place was a vibrant, fiercely blooming red flower.