After losing three children in a row, Ethan Hayes's wife was pregnant again. Everyone figured he'd be more careful than ever, praying day and night for the baby to arrive safely. But when he got the news from the prenatal checkup, despair seized him, and right there, amid the horrified gasps of onlookers, he plunged a knife into Vivian Hart's stomach.

That day, the Hart family summoned the country's top medical resources. Miraculously, both lives were saved.

In the ICU, Vivian, now out of danger, pushed past everyone trying to hold her back and wrapped her trembling arms around Ethan. "Ethan, how could you do something so reckless?"

Ethan, still dazed, shoved her away. His words came out slurred, like he was in a fog. "I've already lost three children. Why can't you just leave me alone?" He lurched forward, trying to shove against Vivian's stomach. "It's better he doesn't exist at all than for you to take him away to suffer again!" His voice was thick with pain.

For five long years, Ethan had endured the loss of three children. He'd convinced himself he was cursed with a streak of bad luck. Time and time again, he'd stood outside the operating room full of hope, only to watch Vivian emerge, pale and trembling, whispering that their baby was stillborn.

The relentless blows had driven him into a deep depression, pushing him to the brink. More than once, he'd contemplated ending it all. Only Vivian's constant presence during those pitch-black nights had kept him going. Everyone praised her devotion to him—and Ethan believed it, too.

Until last week. That was when he crossed paths with Lucas Reed, Vivian's student. Lucas waved a stack of experimental data at him, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Thanks, Professor. Without your generous donation of your three kids for my research, I'd never have gotten such impressive results for my thesis."

Ethan stood frozen. His eyes locked on the report in Lucas's hand as if he'd been struck by lightning. His three children? Experiments? Thesis data? Each word stabbed into his heart like a knife.

He couldn't recall how he'd shoved Lucas aside and stumbled toward Vivian's office. But as he neared the door, voices drifted out.

"Vivian, have you lost your mind? You're seriously planning to trick Ethan into having more 'stillborn' babies just to feed Lucas's experiments?" "If he finds out you sent those three newborns straight to Lucas's lab—one ending up mentally disabled and the other two meeting tragic ends—do you think he could ever forgive you?"

An icy chill swept through him. Through the crack in the door, he saw Vivian casually examining her nails. "Lucas is my student. I'm responsible for him." "Relax. This is the last time. Once Lucas wins that award for his experiment, I'll make it up to Ethan with a healthy kid."

Her cold indifference was the last straw. In an instant, all the love they'd once shared turned into a sick joke. He snapped. He burst into the room, screaming that he'd expose Lucas and make them pay.

But he'd underestimated Vivian's influence. As a respected college lecturer, she easily twisted the story, painting him as a grief-crazed father driven insane by repeated tragedies. Lucas, meanwhile, came off as the innocent, hardworking student caught up in the mess.

Remembering it all, Ethan clenched his jaw and glared at Vivian with pure hatred. But Vivian's expression was unreadable. "Ethan, you're rambling again," she sighed, her eyes swimming with pity—like a wife tormented by her husband's anguish.

"This time, I'll be extra careful during the pregnancy. Our child will be perfectly fine." Liar! Ethan's eyes burned into her.

Vivian's eyes flickered, but before she could respond, a ringtone cut through the silence. She glanced at her phone and stepped outside to take the call, making sure no one overheard.

Through the door, Ethan caught snippets: "experiment," "subject," "delay." A cold wave of dread washed over him. When Vivian hung up and came back, she took his hand, her eyes briefly evasive. "Ethan, the doctor says your mental state is unstable. You need more tests."

Her words sank in, and Ethan shuddered violently. More tests? She clearly meant to turn him into another guinea pig for Lucas's experiments!

Fear and fury erupted inside him. "Vivian, have you completely lost it?!" He shook her off and frantically punched the call button beside the bed. "I want a divorce!"

The sharp shriek of the call button was cut off by a slender hand. Vivian Hart clamped onto Ethan Hayes, her grip cold and unrelenting as ice.

"Ethan, knock it off," she said, her voice hard.

The door swung open and the doctor on rounds stepped in. A surge of hope shot through Ethan. He grabbed at the chance, his voice a desperate rasp. "Doctor, please, help me! They've lost their minds—they're trying to hurt me!"

Vivian cut in, cool and commanding. "Ethan, remember where you are. This is the Hart family clinic."

The words hit him like a bucket of ice water. Realization washed over him, making him shiver. His eyes went wide with horror as Vivian addressed the doctor with absolute authority. "Bring the sedative."

"But... he has pre-existing injuries. This drug could trigger a severe reaction," the doctor protested, nervously wiping his forehead. But he couldn't resist; he passed the syringe to Vivian with shaking hands.

"You can't do this to me, Vivian Hart!" Ethan's voice crackled with panic and despair.

In the murky light where shadows bled into darkness, Vivian held the needle, its tip gleaming with menace. "Ethan, you remember last time. Even after you fell ten stories, I still pulled you back. This is just a tiny little shot."

As the mixture of pain and drug seared through his veins, Ethan's scream strangled in his throat, trapped. His vision smeared, and Vivian's voice faded into nothing.

"Lucas, I'll have him over to you right away."

Sharp agony jolted Ethan awake. Blinding fluorescent lights bore down on him; he was strapped to a surgical table, fighting for air.

"Awake now, are we?"

A mocking voice drifted from behind. Lucas Reed emerged from the shadows, a smug grin twisting his lips as he fiddled with lab instruments.

"I never thought Vivian would hand you over so willingly for my experiments," he sneered.

"You murdered my children, you psychotic bastard!" Ethan shouted, his eyes blazing with hatred for Lucas.

"Relax. It's just a little test..." Lucas's grin stretched wider, venomous.

Casually, he pressed an electrode pad against Ethan's temple. The next second—

"Ahhh—!"

Ethan's scream tore through the room as the electric current ripped into him, a thousand needles drilling into his brain. But even that agony was nothing compared to the searing torment in his limbs. He tried to cry out again, but only ragged breaths escaped.

Lucas gave a low chuckle, scribbling notes like it was nothing. "Extreme stimuli really do trigger those self-preservation mechanisms. You're the perfect subject, Master."

Ethan couldn't hear a word. His world was a cocoon of pain, his spirit shattered into pieces. How could Lucas do this to him? What nightmare had swallowed his three unseen children?

Hours bled by, leaving Ethan a broken shell. But Lucas's "experiment" was far from done. A long needle pierced his skin, draining vial after vial of blood.

Through the night, Ethan teetered on the edge of consciousness, every thought drowned by pain. Lucas's smile never wavered as Ethan's pleas echoed through the lab. Holding a gleaming scalpel to Ethan's throat, Lucas taunted, "I swear, this is the last one, okay?"

"No! Lucas Reed!"

As the blade edged closer, desperation lit a fire in Ethan. He grabbed the scalpel with his bare hands, ignoring the flesh tearing, the skin splitting. Pain threatened to swallow him whole, but he held on with everything he had.

Shock flickered across Lucas's face. "You..."

Summoning what strength remained, Ethan drove the blade into Lucas with a fierce, determined thrust.

"Arghhh—!" Lucas's scream split the air as he stumbled back.

Ethan scrambled off the bed, bare feet slapping against the freezing floor as he bolted, finally bursting out onto a road. Like a drowning man clutching a lifeline, he reached for passersby.

"Help me, please, somebody help me!"

Then, a soft hand settled on his shoulder.

"Ethan, where do you think you're going?"

Ethan spun around. Vivian stood behind him beneath the cold wash of a streetlamp, one hand gripping his shoulder. She was pale, a fresh bandage hidden beneath the loose coat around her waist, but her eyes were terrifyingly steady. For one stunned second, Ethan forgot the pain tearing through his body. Then he screamed.

"Help! Somebody call the police! She kidnapped me!"

Several people on the roadside stopped. Vivian's fingers tightened.

"Ethan," she said quietly, "don't make this worse."

"Worse?" Ethan laughed, the sound cracking in his throat. He thrust out both bleeding hands. "Look at me! Her student did this! He strapped me to a table and electrocuted me!"

A woman nearby raised her phone, and hope exploded in Ethan's chest.

"Please," he begged her. "Record this. Call the police. My wife has been giving our children to—"

Headlights swept across the road. Two black vehicles pulled up so fast their tires hissed against the pavement. Men in Hart clinic jackets got out, followed by a nurse with a medical bag.

Vivian didn't even look at them. "He escaped medical observation while delirious. He's injured and dangerous to himself."

"She's lying!" Ethan roared.

One of the men hesitated when he saw the blood on Ethan's clothes, and Ethan caught it. He ripped open the front of his gown, exposing the round electrode burns and the dark bruises spreading over his chest. "Does this look like observation to you?"

The man went still. Vivian's face changed for the first time—only slightly, but Ethan saw it.

He lunged toward the woman with the phone. "Send the video! Don't let them take your phone!"

Vivian stepped in front of him.

"Ethan, enough."

He shoved her away. Pain flashed over her face as her hand flew to her wounded abdomen, but she did not fall. Instead, she looked at him with a strange mixture of anger and fear.

"You nearly killed our unborn child," she said loudly enough for everyone to hear. "You stabbed me in front of witnesses. You have a documented history of severe depression and self-harm. Do you really want these people to watch you destroy yourself again?"

The roadside fell silent. Ethan stared at the strangers and watched their expressions change. Not trust. Doubt. That was all Vivian needed. His bloody clothes, wild eyes, bare feet, and shaking hands suddenly told whatever story she wanted them to tell.

"No." Ethan backed away. "No, don't listen to her."

The nurse approached carefully. "Mr. Hayes, we just want to take you somewhere safe."

"Safe?" Ethan barked. "Ask her what happened to my children!"

Vivian froze. Ethan saw it and rushed forward, grabbing her wrist.

"One of them lived, didn't she?"

Vivian's pupils tightened. There. That tiny reaction hit him harder than Lucas's electricity. Ethan's breath stopped.

"You knew," he whispered.

Vivian yanked her wrist free. "You're confused."

"One of them lived!"

"Ethan—"

"Where is she?"

Vivian's jaw locked.

He grabbed the front of her coat with both hands. "Where is my daughter?"

The Hart men seized him from behind. Ethan fought like an animal.

"Tell me!"

Vivian stared at him. For one terrible second, something almost human crossed her face—guilt, then fear. Then it vanished.

"Don't drag her into this."

Ethan stopped struggling. The words rang louder than a gunshot. Her. Not them. Her. His daughter was alive.

"She's alive," he breathed.

Vivian realized what she had said. Too late. Ethan laughed. It came out broken and wet, halfway between a sob and a howl.

"She's alive."

"Get him in the car," Vivian snapped.

"No!" Ethan kicked backward, catching one man in the shin. "Where is she? Where did you put her?"

The nurse opened the rear door. Ethan saw a syringe inside her bag and thrashed harder.

"Don't you touch me with that!"

"Don't sedate him," Vivian said.

Everyone paused. Her hand had gone back to her abdomen.

"The last dose was too much. Restrain him."

Ethan stared at her. Even now, she was careful not to let him die. Even now, she was the one destroying him. The contradiction made him sick. They forced him into the vehicle. As the door slammed, Ethan caught one last glimpse of the woman with the phone. She was still recording. Vivian noticed too, said something to one of the Hart men, and he walked toward the woman.

The car pulled away before Ethan could see what happened next.

*

When Ethan opened his eyes again, white ceiling lights blurred above him. His wrists were strapped to a hospital bed in a room he had never seen before—no window, one camera in the corner, a locked door. He tested the restraints. Pain shot through his palms. For the first time since escaping Lucas's lab, Ethan forced himself to stop moving. His daughter was alive.

That fact was bigger than the room, bigger than Vivian, bigger than Lucas. All three of his children had not died at birth. One had been hidden from him, somewhere close enough that Vivian still feared him finding her. Footsteps approached outside. Ethan let his head fall sideways and closed his eyes.

The lock clicked. A nurse entered—not the one from the road, but a tired-faced woman in her early thirties with a badge clipped to her pocket.

GRACE MILLER.

She checked his IV and avoided looking at him. Ethan stayed limp. Then voices sounded beyond the half-open door. Vivian.

"Has he woken up?"

"No," Grace said.

"Good." After a pause, Vivian lowered her voice.

"Move Nora tonight."

Ethan's heart slammed against his ribs. Nora.

"Use the private transfer," Vivian continued. "No Hart records. No university records."

Grace was silent. Vivian's next words were barely more than a whisper.

"He can never see her."

The door clicked shut. Ethan opened his eyes. For the first time in five years, one of his children had a name.