After my husband carried me to the operating table, I was reborn back to the first day I met him.

On the operating table, I was covered in my own blood.

Ten minutes after the anesthesia wore off, the cold scalpel was carving its third incision across my lower abdomen.

My body seized with agony, tears blurring my vision as I desperately strained to look at him through the observation window.

He was cradling my stepsister, Serena, a chilling smile on his face as he instructed the doctor, "Take the uterus and kidney together. No scars. They're for Serena later."

I tried to scream, but a nurse clamped a hand over my mouth. "Ms. Hayes, don't struggle. Mrs.