My Husband Killed My Eight Children For My Best Friend Chapter 03
I went upstairs without a word.
As I passed down the hallway, I noticed Sophie’s bedroom door was slightly ajar.
I don’t know why I stopped.
I stepped closer and saw Sophie sprawled on the bed, her clothes in disarray.
Adrian was on top of her.
Sophie had her arms hooked around his neck. Her voice was low and soft.
“Adrian. You’re the only one who’s ever really cared about me.”
“Ethan can’t have children. If Emily gives you a baby, he’ll never take over Blackwood Group. And I don’t want to think about the kind of life I’d have after that.”
Adrian’s breathing was heavy. The rims of his eyes were red.
“Is Ethan good to you?” he asked. “Does he ever hurt you?”
Sophie laughed.
“No. Since I got pregnant, he’s been spoiling me rotten. Won’t let me lift a finger. He even massages my feet. He’s gentler in bed too.”
Something painful crossed Adrian’s face.
“As long as he treats you well. As long as you’re happy. That’s all I need.”
Sophie pressed herself closer to him.
“Adrian, you’ve done so much for me. I couldn’t marry you. The least I can do is give you this. Tonight, I’m yours.”
Adrian couldn’t hold back any longer.
They were on each other in seconds.
I had never known that Adrian — always so composed, so measured — could lose control like this.
The tears came before I could stop them.
I turned and went back to our bedroom.
He didn’t come back the whole night.
The next morning, he looked at me with an apologetic expression.
“Emily, I meant to come back last night. But my mother wouldn’t let me go. She kept me up talking. I couldn’t get away.”
I didn’t call him on the lie.
I turned and headed for the door.
I had barely reached the front steps when a bucket of garbage — leftover food, dirty water, all of it — was upended over my head.
Sophie stood in front of me, still holding the bucket.
She was smiling.
“Emily. Adrian, coming undone on top of me last night — was that a nice sight for you?”
So she’d left the door open on purpose.
She took a step closer. Her voice dropped.
“Miscarriage doesn’t feel too good, does it? Well — you won’t have to go through it anymore. You can’t have children now, can you?”
A cold shudder ran through me.
Sophie went on. “You kept getting pregnant, over and over. Trying to take the position of Blackwood Group’s first lady from me? Dream on.”
“Adrian gave up the chance to run the group — for me. And he got me pregnant with his own child.”
“And those dead babies of yours? They all went into me. Every single one.”
My head snapped up. My voice shook.
“What did you just say?”
Sophie’s smile widened, triumphant.
“Why do you think Adrian always told you the babies had been ‘buried’ and wouldn’t let you see them?”
“Because I told him it would be good for my body.”
Despair, rage, revulsion — they all came flooding in at once.
So this was why Adrian had never let me see my children?
For Sophie’s sake, he had gone this far?
Sophie watched my face, thoroughly pleased with herself.
“Don’t stand there looking so pitiful. Who else is there to blame? You’ve got no one but yourself. You’re useless.”
“With a mother like you, your children were only fit to be nutrients for mine.”
I couldn’t take another second. My hand flew up toward her face.
But my palm never landed.
Adrian rushed out of nowhere and yanked Sophie behind him. The slap struck him instead.
An instant later, he shoved me hard. I hit the ground.
“Emily, what the hell are you doing?” he roared.
Sophie burst into tears.
“Adrian, I only wanted to comfort her. I didn’t want her grieving alone.”
“But she’s jealous of the baby. She said I stole the position of Blackwood’s first lady from her. She tried to throw dirty water on me.”
“I just pushed her — reflex, that’s all. I even apologized. But she still tried to hit me. She said she was going to make me miscarry.”
Adrian didn’t give me the chance to say a word.
His face was terrible.
“Emily. Since when did you care so much about status and money?”
“You can’t hold on to a baby because there’s something wrong with your body. Why are you blaming Sophie?”
“Stop coveting things that were never yours. Apologize to her.”
Something wrong with my body.
He said there was something wrong with my body.
I looked at him and felt, all at once, that I didn’t know the man standing in front of me.
“Adrian,” I said. “Tell me. Where did you actually take those babies of mine after they died?”
He frowned.
“I had them buried, of course. I told you that a long time ago.”
His acting really was flawless.
I gave a small laugh.
“You’re right, Adrian. I shouldn’t want what was never mine.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t get in Sophie’s way again.”
I turned and walked out.
Adrian watched me go. Something in his expression flickered — uneasy, uncertain. He looked as if he might call after me.
But Sophie caught his hand.
“Adrian, some of it splashed on me. I feel sick. Can you take me to the hospital?”
He hesitated for two seconds.
In the end, he didn’t come after me.
Back home, I went through every gift Adrian had given me over the past three years and threw them into the fireplace, one by one.
I had just taken out our marriage certificate copy when my phone buzzed.
A message from Sophie.
Emily, I said one sentence about feeling nauseous, and Adrian panicked so much he called in the best OB-GYN in the country.
Some of the doctors weren’t even local — he sent a private helicopter to bring them in. Jealous?
I didn’t reply.
I watched the marriage certificate curl in the flames and turn to ash.
I wasn’t worried about Adrian seeing.
Because I knew he wasn’t coming home tonight.
Sure enough, he called soon after.
“Emily, Sophie’s at risk of premature labor, and Ethan isn’t back yet. As her uncle-in-law, I have to look after her for him. Don’t be upset with me.”
I thought of the photo Sophie had sent.
In it, her cheeks were rosy. She was eating fruit Adrian had cut for her by hand.
Did that look like someone in distress?
“Alright,” I said evenly. “I understand. The pregnant one comes first. Take care of her.”
Adrian was quiet for a moment. Then his voice softened.
“Emily, I didn’t mean to snap at you today. I know you’re not yourself, after what happened with the baby.”
“But Sophie’s pregnant, and that baby is a Blackwood. You and I can’t have children anymore. If anything happens to Sophie, I don’t know how my parents would handle it.”
I almost laughed out loud.
Why did he need so many excuses?
He went on, “Stay home and rest. Tomorrow’s your birthday. I’ve booked the best hotel in the city, and I’ve got a surprise waiting for you. I’ll come pick you up in the morning.”
By noon the next day, Adrian still hadn’t come home.
I laid the signed divorce agreement on the table.
Then I scheduled a recording to be sent to him at a specific time — an audio file, addressed to Adrian.
Once that was done, I picked up my suitcase and left for the airport.
I had barely arrived when Adrian called again.
“I’m sorry, Emily. A few of our partners just showed up. We need to hammer out the next season’s couture line — I really can’t get away.”
“I’ve sent my assistant to bring you to the hotel. You’ve always wanted me to design a dress for you, haven’t you? I finished one. You’re going to look breathtaking in it.”
“Alright,” I said.
After I hung up, I noticed two young women beside me, huddled over a phone, scrolling through photos.
“God,” one of them said. “The CEO of Blackwood — as if being that gorgeous wasn’t enough, now he designs maternity wear this beautiful. It almost makes me want to get pregnant.”
“Like you could just buy them,” the other said. “Every dress at that private showing today was designed by Adrian Blackwood, personally, for his own pregnant wife. One of each, all custom, the finest fabrics in the world. Hundreds of pieces. She won’t have time to wear them all before the baby comes.”
“I heard he closed the event to the public because he didn’t want anyone disturbing her. You’re lucky your boyfriend’s a director at Blackwood Group. Otherwise we’d never even have seen these shots.”
I looked at their screen.
Sophie was there, her arm looped through Adrian’s, gliding between rows of exquisite maternity gowns.
Her smile was smug and radiant.
Blackwood Group specialized in couture and luxury goods.
Adrian’s talent as a designer was well known.
I had begged him more than once, playfully, to design a dress for me.
Every time, he said he was too busy. He couldn’t spare the time.
But he had made hundreds of pieces for Sophie.
Remembering how he’d just told me a single dress was to be my birthday surprise — his tone practically waiting for me to be moved — I found the whole thing absurd.
Boarding was called.
I switched off my phone and got on the flight to France.
Adrian, after helping Sophie try on her wardrobe, finally went to the hotel where my birthday party was to be held.
He believed I would walk in wearing the dress he had designed.
He had even pictured how I would look coming through the door.
But I never came.
What arrived instead was his assistant, pale-faced and panicked.
“Mr. Blackwood — there’s a problem. Mrs. Blackwood is gone.”