The Baby Is Gone: No 'Us'

Seven years. That's how long I'd been with Sarah, building a future, planning our wedding. Meeting her parents formally was supposed to be a joyous step, a celebration of us. But at dinner, Sarah casually suggested a terrifying plan: mortgaging or selling the townhouse-the one I paid for-to fund her deceased brother's friend's dubious startup. Her parents enthusiastically agreed, openly admiring the 'visionary' friend, David. They dismissed my shock as "selfishness," accusing me of caring "always about money." Sarah herself rolled her eyes, questioning my "support." Then, they ambushed me at my college, publicly humiliating me with baseless accusations of emotional abuse and fraud. My career, built on years of hard work as an adjunct professor, hung by a thread. How could the woman I loved betray me so utterly for mere convenience and blind family loyalty? Were my life savings, my future, so easily disposable to them? The injustice burned, revealing a deep-seated contempt I never truly saw. I cancelled the wedding, ready to fight for what was mine. But just as her CEO prepared to reprimand me, a sleek black car pulled up, and a quiet man stepped out, about to expose a secret that would shake their world to its core. They had no idea who they were really dealing with.

My marriage to Mark seemed solid, our life comfortable, until his college reunion. I was there as the supportive wife, trying to ignore a growing unease. Then I saw him, too close to Jessica, his high school sweetheart and now his sister-in-law. The "Ten-Year Love Blueprint" he' d detailed for her-not me-was just the first blow. That night, I found Jessica kissing my drunk husband in our home, then overheard the devastating truth: her son, Kevin, was Mark' s, not his brother' s. My perfectly constructed life imploded as Mark dismissed my pain and his mother furiously defended his affair. A reckless car crash, caused by Jessica, led to my miscarriage; Mark, shockingly, blamed me, then his mother coldly announced, "You weren't strong enough." Even my own parents, dependent on Mark's generous support, disowned me for daring to expose his betrayal. Abandoned and broken, the injustice was crushing: how could everyone I loved betray me so completely, leaving me a disposable substitute in a life that was never truly mine? The agony of losing everything, especially my baby, felt unbearable. But a fateful accident unexpectedly offered a dark opportunity for ultimate escape and rebirth, transforming me into a vengeful phantom armed with a meticulous plan for absolute justice.

My life was perfect. I was Sarah, a loving mom, taking my sweet six-year-old Lily to Kids' Kraft Korner, all smiles and glitter castles. In an instant, my world shattered. A bloodcurdling scream. I raced back inside to find Lily' s lifeless body, her head gone, crafting shears beside her. My heart died. The real nightmare began. My best friend, Jessica, shrieked, pointing at me. Detective Harding arrested me. My own husband, David, abandoned me, highlighting my past postpartum depression. The media branded me a monster; "Suburban Mother Snaps, Murders Daughter" screamed headlines, bolstered by manipulated footage and a janitor's twisted testimony. Under relentless accusations, I plunged into a torturous haze. Dr. Peterson, a psychologist David suggested, hypnotized me. Horrifying images flooded my mind: me, holding the shears, filled with rage, striking Lily. I confessed, truly believing the implanted memory, convinced I was a child killer. The "recalled" physical evidence-Lily' s head, found exactly where I "remembered" it-seemed to seal my monstrous fate. I was lost in self-loathing. Still, even through the despair, a tiny flicker of inner doubt persisted. Could I really have done this? Then, as I was dragged to court, I saw Jessica in the crowd. She wasn't yelling. She was smiling. A small, smug, triumphant smile. It wasn't my madness. That hateful smile ignited something raw. "You did this, Jessica! You set me up!" I screamed, tearing at my restraints. "She's having an affair with my husband! David is the father of her son!" My desperate accusation, fueled by rage, finally started to unravel the terrifying conspiracy, pulling me from the abyss of my false memory.

Just a week after my son Leo was born, as I navigated the raw grief of losing my parents and the overwhelming exhaustion of new motherhood, a seemingly innocuous email landed in my inbox, poised to shatter the quiet sanctuary of my inherited Boston home. Addressed to "Ms. Sarah Connelly, parent of Maya," it was a welcome message from the city's most prestigious charter school-for a child I didn't know, shockingly enrolled using my name and my address, a stunt orchestrated by none other than my own husband, Mark, for his colleague Brenda's daughter. His casual dismissals-"She' s a struggling single mom," "She' s vital to my team," said with infuriating nonchalance-masked outright gaslighting, culminating in a public display of affection where Brenda flaunted the custom anniversary watch I'd bought him, proving his betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. How could the man I loved, the partner who once climbed an icy fire escape to comfort me in my darkest hour, betray me so audaciously, choosing a manipulative colleague over his wife and newborn son, then abandon us when she needed him again? But betrayal cannot break what is truly yours. My house, my name, my son. The first call was to my lawyer. This was no longer just about anger; it was about reclaiming my life, exposing their manipulative scheme, and building a new future on my terms, brick by painful brick.

I just closed a fifty-million-dollar deal for Innovatech Solutions, the company I co-founded with my wife, Jess. My team, the Trailblazers, cheered as Jess, our CEO, hugged me, promising a "really special bonus." That bonus was a crudely drawn Sharpie watch on my wrist and a flimsy "next year" promise. Later, my blood froze seeing Liam Walker, her incompetent "Executive Assistant," beaming with keys to a company-leased Porsche, courtesy of Jess. His Instagram: "Real love means exclusive pampering. #BestBoss." Humiliation burned as Jess frantically spun excuses, then offered me the baby I' d always wanted if I' d "unlike" the post. When I refused, she retaliated, punishing my loyal team while Liam' s cronies went untouched. "You'll get over it," she snapped, hanging up. The Porsche was just the latest, undeniable symbol of her two-faced hypocrisy and a years-long affair. My love for the woman I married had completely evaporated, replaced by a profound, weary exhaustion. I was done enabling her narcissism, done absorbing her endless betrayals. "Let's just get a divorce," I told her, my voice flat and final. Then, I called Innovatech' s biggest competitor, ready to secure not just my future, but my entire team's, forcing her to finally face the consequences.

My world with Chloe revolved around our eagerly awaited baby, our future taking happy shape with every nursery plan. An Instagram tag from her popped up then, a seemingly innocent ping. I opened it, and the image delivered a brutal, physical blow, vaporizing my reality. Chloe lay pale but smiling in a hospital bed, holding hands with her ex-husband Mark, in the bed beside her. The caption read: "This time, I'm choosing to be brave for love." My mind reeled: a bone marrow donor? Where was our baby? Comments hailed her a hero, oblivious to the life she'd just ended, never telling me. She returned, demanding comfort, yet casually dismissed my silent agony over our lost child. Her shocking nonchalance toward our baby' s life ignited a silent, seething rage deep inside me. I finally grasped that my unwavering kindness had enabled her, teaching her that monumental betrayals carried no real consequences. How could she expect recovery meals after such a horrific, selfish act? Staring at the stranger in my wife's eyes, the illusion shattered. "I want a divorce," I declared, beginning my fight to reclaim my shattered life.

Her fiance and her best friend worked together and set her up. She lost everything and died in the street. However, she was reborn. The moment she opened her eyes, her husband was trying to strangle her. Luckily, she survived that. She signed the divorce agreement without hesitation and was ready for her miserable life. To her surprise, her mother in this life left her a great deal of money. She turned the tables and avenged herself. Everything went well in her career and love when her ex-husband came to her.

For ten years, Daniela showered her ex-husband with unwavering devotion, only to discover she was just his biggest joke. Feeling humiliated yet determined, she finally divorced him. Three months later, Daniela returned in grand style. She was now the hidden CEO of a leading brand, a sought-after designer, and a wealthy mining mogul—her success unveiled at her triumphant comeback. Her ex-husband’s entire family rushed over, desperate to beg for forgiveness and plead for another chance. Yet Daniela, now cherished by the famed Mr. Phillips, regarded them with icy disdain. "I’m out of your league."

After being kicked out of her home, Harlee learned she wasn't the biological daughter of her family. Rumors had it that her impoverished biological family favored sons and planned to profit from her return. Unexpectedly, her real father was a zillionaire, catapulting her into immense wealth and making her the most cherished member of the family. While they anticipated her disgrace, Harlee secretly held design patents worth billions. Celebrated for her brilliance, she was invited to mentor in a national astronomy group, drew interest from wealthy suitors, and caught the eye of a mysterious figure, ascending to legendary status.

On her wedding day, Khloe’s sister connived with her groom, framing her for a crime she didn’t commit. She was sentenced to three years in prison, where she endured much suffering. When Khloe was finally released, her evil sister used their mother to coerce Khloe into an indecent liaison with an elderly man. As fate would have it, Khloe crossed paths with Henrik, the dashing yet ruthless mobster who sought to alter the course of her life. Despite Henrik’s cold exterior, he cherished Khloe like no other. He helped her take retribution from her tormentors and kept her from being bullied again.

Darya spent three years loving Micah, worshipping the ground he walked on. Until his neglect and his family's abuse finally woke her up to the ugly truth-he doesn't love her. Never did, never will. To her, he is a hero, her knight in shining armour. To him, she is an opportunist, a gold digger who schemed her way into his life. Darya accepts the harsh reality, gathers the shattered pieces of her dignity, divorces him, takes back her real name, reclaims her title as the country's youngest billionaire heiress. Their paths cross again at a party. Micah watches his ex-wife sing like an angel, tear up the dance floor, then thwart a lecher with a roundhouse kick. He realises, belatedly, that she's exactly the kind of woman he'd want to marry, if only he had taken the trouble to get to know her. Micah acts promptly to win her back, but discovers she's now surrounded by eligible bachelors: high-powered CEO, genius biochemist, award-winning singer, reformed playboy. Worse, she makes it pretty clear that she's done with him. Micah gears up for an uphill battle. He must prove to her he's still worthy of her love before she falls for someone else. And time is running out.

Sandra Hill, the long-lost real heiress of the Hill family, was shunned by her own kin. Instead of embracing her, they bestowed their affection upon an impostor. They even arranged her to marry a vegetative man in place of her so-called “sister”. Sandra sneered, refusing to put up with this humiliation, cut off ties with the Hill family immediately and ran into the flash marriage with Wesley Cooper, her unconscious billionaire husband. With her incredible medical skills, she defied the odds and revived him. Little did she expect that her husband spoiled her with all his love... A medical genius, a computer prodigy, a national treasure in painting, and a racing legend... Her husband revealed her various identities, leaving the Hill family regretful. Her father came pleading, "It's Dad's fault. Please come back." Her mother wept, "Mom will protect you from now on. Please come back." Even her five brothers knelt before he, begging for forgiveness. Yet, Sandra's smile held a hint of mockery as she vowed, “Never!”