Ever since my husband Mike Sterling’s parents, Helen Sterling and Robert Sterling, retired, they’ve been bored out of their minds. So they made a rule: whoever gets pregnant first gets the family heirloom pendant and that vacant luxury apartment. As it turned out, Mike’s sister Amber Reed got pregnant before I did, but it wasn’t long before she was diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy. The doctor said she had to terminate immediately, or her life would be in danger. She came to me, wanting me—a medical professional—to help her save the baby. I patiently explained that ectopic pregnancies can’t be reversed, no doctor would take that risk, and the best course of action was immediate termination. After Christmas, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Helen gave me the treasured pendant, Robert transferred the apartment deed to my name, Mike spent all his time doting on me and the baby, and the whole family spoiled me rotten. When Amber came back, the more she thought about it, the more she felt neglected. One day, when no one was home, she actually pushed me off the thirtieth floor. “Aren’t you supposed to be an OB-GYN expert? How could you not treat an ectopic pregnancy? You deliberately refused to help me so you could steal everything that should have been mine!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back to that day—the moment when Amber came to me for help, begging me to “reverse” her ectopic pregnancy. ***** I was standing in the familiar living room again. Amber stood in front of me, furiously throwing a medical report onto the coffee table. “Dora! You know what? That doctor just told me to abort my baby! Does she have no conscience at all! “I spent so much money on that specialist appointment, and she can’t even handle a simple ectopic pregnancy! Those incompetent doctors—I curse them all to have bad luck!” Then she completely changed her tone, putting on a smile as she sat down next to me, her voice becoming entirely different. “Dora, you’re an expert at the city’s top hospital. You’re definitely way better than those people. This little thing should be a piece of cake for you, right?” She said the exact same thing in my previous life. Back then, I took my medical responsibilities seriously and told her that ectopic pregnancies could lead to miscarriage at best, or internal bleeding and life-threatening complications at worst. Her condition was a tubal pregnancy—the most dangerous type of ectopic pregnancy. If it ruptured, the consequences would be catastrophic. So I firmly advised her to follow the doctor’s recommendation and terminate the pregnancy. Amber flew into a rage on the spot. But eventually, after repeated persuasion from me and the doctors, her husband Jason Reed and Helen had no choice but to force her into the operating room. Although the surgery removed one of her fallopian tubes, at least it saved her life. But later, when I got pregnant and had my baby, Robert and Helen transferred almost all the family assets to my name. Amber completely lost it, convinced that I had killed her baby for the inheritance. She actually pushed me off the thirtieth floor with her own hands. Thinking about this, I looked at Amber’s complex expression and smiled slightly. “Amber, I’m not skilled enough to gamble with someone’s life. You should find a more capable doctor.” Amber’s face immediately turned cold, her eyes sharp as knives. “Oh, so now that you’re a big hospital doctor, you look down on us poor relatives?” She suddenly changed her expression again, demanding, “You’re not pregnant yourself, are you? Are you trying to use this opportunity to get rid of my baby so you can take all of Mom and Dad’s stuff for yourself?” She suddenly grabbed my waist like a madwoman, insisting on feeling around my stomach, as if she’d attack me the moment I nodded. Remembering the tearing agony of falling from that high-rise in my previous life, I felt chills all over. I knew clearly that if I continued to get entangled with her, she might really lose control. Then I suddenly remembered her previous life’s fabricated story about our “conflicting star charts.” I went along with it, saying, “Didn’t you believe in that astrologer? He said our zodiac signs are completely opposed and our birth charts don’t match. Do you really still want me to help with your pregnancy?”
When Amber heard me say this, the anger on her face visibly subsided. I quickly continued, “Haven’t you always said that astrologer is the direct disciple of some master in the occult world? His star chart readings must be incredibly accurate! If it weren’t for his protection, how could you have gotten pregnant so quickly?” Amber immediately lifted her chin, looking incredibly proud. “Of course! He said I was destined to live a wealthy life!” She didn’t forget to glare at me after saying this. “Stay away from me. If you mess up the stellar alignment in my belly, I’ll never forgive you! Once my child is born, Mom and Dad’s assets will naturally be mine. Since you still have some sense, I’ll give you a bit of that land back home, but don’t expect anything else.” “Stay away from me. If you mess up the stellar alignment in my belly, I’ll never forgive you! Once my child is born, Mom and Dad’s assets will naturally be mine. Since you still have some sense, I’ll give you a bit of that land back home, but don’t expect anything else.” Watching her smug expression, I nodded and smiled on the surface, but inside I was already rolling my eyes. This time I’ll just watch how you manage to keep your so-called “chosen child.” After that, I used the excuse of “conflicting star charts” to move back to the apartment I’d bought before marriage, taking Mike with me. This time, without the drama of Amber’s ectopic pregnancy, I actually got pregnant two months earlier. The first thing I did was tear up the pregnancy test report from the hospital and throw it straight into the trash, determined not to say a word. Soon it was Helen’s birthday, and I couldn’t get out of it, so I had to accompany Mike to celebrate Helen’s birthday. At the dinner table, everyone had steak, vegetable platters, and red wine, but in front of Amber was a bottle of murky yellow liquid and several swollen dried figs. As soon as I sat across from her, the putrid smell hit me, but Amber was eating with great focus, as if she were enjoying gourmet cuisine. After dinner, I wandered around upstairs and passed by her room, noticing the door was slightly ajar. I couldn’t help but peek inside. What I saw nearly scared me unconscious on the spot. Amber was taking a large handful of dried figs and forcefully shoving them into her private parts. Her face was flushed red, and she was groaning in pain. Not satisfied with one handful, she used a rolling pin to force in a second handful, then a third, her movements becoming increasingly violent. When she pulled out the rolling pin, it was covered in blood streaks and a white substance, making me nearly vomit on the spot. Just then, her phone rang. Unable to free her hands, she put it on speaker. “Hello? Amber, how are you feeling about that batch of prepared figs and the purification liquid you’ve been consuming lately?” A man’s voice came through the phone, with a mystical tone. Amber quickly switched to a flattering voice: “I feel amazing! My whole spirit and energy are completely different!” “Very good. I’ll bring you a new bottle of purification liquid tomorrow. Remember to soak the figs yourself – at least overnight before eating them. There can’t be any mistakes.” “Okay, thank you!” At that moment, I finally understood the source of those disgusting things on her plate. I practically flew out of the room and rushed to the flower bed to dry heave, nearly throwing up bile. I had suspected that so-called “astrologer” might concoct some weird remedies, but I never imagined it would be this revolting. Robert saw my pale face and quickly handed me a bottle of water. “What’s wrong? Did you eat something bad?” I waved him off, telling him not to worry. Actually, Helen and Robert had long noticed something was wrong with what Amber was eating. When they asked her, she stubbornly insisted it was spiritual healing cuisine. I knew they would come to me eventually. Sure enough, not long after, I saw Helen and Robert dragging Amber into the clinic, looking frantic. “Dora, Amber has been vomiting constantly and has bloody stools. We really don’t know what to do. Do you think it might be related to all that weird stuff she’s been eating?” Helen and Robert kept winking at me, clearly wanting me to take the bait. They wanted to use me as their pawn, but I wasn’t stupid enough to be their scapegoat. I feigned surprise and said with forced composure, “Hasn’t Amber always said she’s eating a special diet prescribed by that astrologer? He’s supposedly quite famous in spiritual circles – how could he be wrong? Besides, my star chart seriously conflicts with Amber’s. If it really affects the child and something goes wrong, I can’t take responsibility for that.” Amber immediately exploded: “Exactly! How dare you question the astrologer! This is disrespectful to the cosmic will! If anything happens to me and my child, it’s all your fault! You’re clearly biased and want Mike to inherit the family business, so you don’t want me to have this baby. Are you trying to force me to my death?” Amber immediately exploded: “Exactly! How dare you question the astrologer! This is disrespectful to the cosmic will! If anything happens to me and my child, it’s all your fault! You’re clearly biased and want Mike to inherit the family business, so you don’t want me to have this baby. Are you trying to force me to my death?”
Amber suddenly rushed to the clinic window, making a gesture as if she was about to jump. Fortunately, Helen and Robert desperately held her back, preventing the situation from escalating. After she left, I noticed a pool of blood on the chair where she had been sitting, with several rotten figs scattered nearby. I immediately felt nauseous again and nearly threw up my lunch. Over the next few days, Helen called me daily, crying while begging for my help. She said Amber was no longer satisfied with just one bottle of “purification water” a day—she was now using it as her regular drinking water. She cooked with it, washed her face with it, and even poured it into the washing machine, claiming it would “disinfect and benefit the whole family.” Helen and Robert were being driven to the brink of collapse, living in the pungent, rotten stench day after day. They’d lost several pounds in less than a week. But Amber was eating well and sleeping soundly, with a rosy complexion—she showed no signs of any problems. “If you don’t come back to help us, Amber is really going to drive us insane!” Helen’s voice was almost unrecognizable from crying over the phone. Robert kept calling too, his tone full of pleading. When Mike heard his mother crying, his heart softened and he wanted to go home to check on things. No matter how I tried to dissuade him, I couldn’t change his mind, so I reluctantly went back with him. The moment we opened the door, a stench worse than a garbage dump nearly knocked me out. Amber was sitting with her eyes closed in front of a facial steamer, yellow vapor hitting her face. The smell was so overwhelming it brought tears to my eyes, yet she looked completely blissful, as if she were at a spa. When we walked over, she didn’t bother acknowledging us until Mike offered her some fruit, and only then did she lazily glance up. “Help yourself if you want some.” She casually fished out a soggy fig from a nearby pot and shoved it directly into my hand. Knowing where that fig came from, I nearly jumped and quickly backed away. Amber rolled her eyes dramatically, looking completely disdainful, then popped the fig into her mouth and chewed it with loud crunching sounds. “You really don’t know quality when you see it. No wonder you can’t have a son if you won’t even eat good stuff like this.” I couldn’t stand watching her eat it with such relish and started dry heaving while covering my mouth. Amber immediately looked over with a neurotic expression. “You’re throwing up? Why are you suddenly throwing up? Are you pregnant?” She started trying to grab at my clothes, but fortunately Mike blocked her in time. “You’ve turned the house into this mess—any normal person would throw up coming in here!” He then angrily went to clean up the facial steamer on the table, intending to throw it away. Amber pounced like an angry cat, screaming as she clawed at Mike, leaving bloody scratches on his face. “What are you doing! Do you know how expensive this machine is?!” “Expensive? It’s just a pot of weird water. How expensive could it be?” Amber rolled her eyes and sneered coldly. “What do you know? This is blessed spiritual water personally consecrated by an astrologer. How could it be the same as ordinary water? I’ll have you know, it’s $500 per milliliter!” Mike and I exchanged glances, both shocked. Not because the water was so miraculous, but shocked that Amber had actually been completely fooled by this stuff. “Is this water mixed with gold dust?” Mike couldn’t help but curse. Amber scoffed, her lips curling with smugness. “You wouldn’t understand. Once my child is born, this house will be mine, and Mom and Dad’s inheritance will be mine too. What’s wrong with spending a little money now?” Just then, Helen came home. Seeing the chaotic scene before her, she immediately rushed over to break up the fight. “Stop arguing! Stop fighting!” Mike looked at Helen, his tone turning cold. “Mom, tell me the truth. The money Amber spent on all this spiritual water nonsense—did you give it to her?” Amber hadn’t held a steady job since graduating college, so this money couldn’t possibly be her own. When Helen heard this, she lowered her head, clearly looking guilty. “You let her run wild on one hand, then expect us to clean up the mess on the other?” Even the usually good-tempered Mike was completely furious. “Handle this yourselves and stop bothering us.” With that, he pulled me toward the door and we left. The next day I went to work at the clinic as usual. The moment I walked in, I was hit by that familiar stench and immediately went on high alert. Sure enough, Amber was sitting in that chair against the wall. Hearing the sound of me opening the door, she slowly looked up, her eyes eerily cold, her voice low and menacing. “Are you pregnant?”
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