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The scream tore from my throat, but no sound came out. I was back. My hand flew to my belly-round, firm, eight months pregnant. Sunlight poured into my apartment. I was alive. But the memory was searing: that sterile hospital room, the monstrous pain of losing her, my baby girl ripped away. Mark's family, their greedy faces, haunted my vision. They wanted my company, my money. They watched as my child and I died. Just three days. That's all I had before the loan sharks would come, the harbinger of my past life's ruin. They called my unborn daughter 'worthless' plotting my divorce and even grooming Mark's mistress to bear their 'heir.' They'd publicly shame me, all while seizing my assets. The burning injustice was a raw wound. To protect their name and inheritance, they'd sacrifice an innocent life. How could family be so cold, so utterly devoid of humanity, willing to let me and my child perish for their selfish desires? But not this time. Now, I knew their every cruel scheme. My shattered past had armed me with foresight. This time, my baby girl would live. This time, I was ready. And they would pay. They would pay for every tear, every life they tried to extinguish. Their downfall begins now.