He Asked Me to Bear His Enemy’s Baby

A car accident took my father’s life instantly, and my mother was left in a vegetative state. As the principal dancer of the troupe, I found myself unable to dance anymore.

I attended the funeral confined to a wheelchair. After the mourners had left, a group of thugs abducted me.

They subjected me to horrific abuse inside my father’s funeral hall—and streamed everything live. The footage was sold cheaply and quickly spread across the internet.

The dance troupe immediately terminated my contract. My fiancé, Zech Winters, sent me a cold breakup message and fled the country.

In one night, I lost my father, my love, my career, and my reputation—leaving only my mother, trapped in silence and stillness.

At my lowest point, Zech’s uncle, Alan Winters, appeared.

The reputedly ruthless, coldhearted head of the Winters family suddenly knelt before my wheelchair and spoke in the gentlest voice I had ever heard: “Nina, let me take care of you.”

For five years of marriage, he treated me like a precious treasure. I thought he was the light after all my darkness—until I found another woman’s name on our son’s birth certificate.

Julia Lawrence.

The daughter of the driver who caused the accident.

I went to confront Alan, but unexpectedly, Zech’s voice echoed nearby.

“I told you, you were too harsh back then. The accident had already ended Nina Ranford’s dancing career. Why did you hire someone to livestream her torture?”

“What do you know?” Alan’s voice turned icy. “She can’t dance, but the company wanted her as a behindthescenes coach. Julia wouldn’t tolerate her presence, so I had to destroy her reputation completely.”

My heart shattered, torn to pieces by the cruel truth. My own husband had annihilated my career and dignity in the most merciless way imaginable—just to please his lover.

I stumbled away and made a call. “I accept your invitation. Give me a week,” I said. “But I have one condition.”

...

“I know it sounds extreme, so I’ll marry her and give her the best life possible. She won’t have to appear in public and be cursed, and her mother’s medical bills will be covered. That should be enough compensation.”

The click of a phone ending, Alan’s voice drifting from the ajar door, accompanied by the faint haze of cigarette smoke.

I laughed bitterly, nails digging into my palms.

Five years of being fooled by his hypocritical charity—and I even bore his child!

Zech sneered, “Nice words. You’re just a surrogate to him. You and Julia already have a child—why can’t she have another for me and Julia?”

Alan sounded helpless. “Her body can’t handle another pregnancy.”

“I don’t care!” Zech snapped. “Julia can’t have kids because of her dancing career, and she won’t use a surrogacy agency. Isn’t that why you tricked Nina into this?”

“You’re acting reluctant now. Afraid to let go of Nina? Still attracted to her?”

Alan’s voice froze cold. “Don’t question my feelings for Julia.”

The office fell silent. Even outside the door, I could feel the tension.

I clenched the birth certificate, staring hard at the mother’s name.

Julia.

Slowly, I stood and walked out unsteadily.

Four years ago, just as I was regaining mobility, Alan was diagnosed with a brain tumor and given little time. He worried more about me than himself, kneeling tearfully and begging, “Nina, promise me you’ll never hurt yourself for me.”

When I refused, he smiled bitterly. “It’s all my fault. I can’t be with you forever.”

“If only we had a child. At least he could stay with you when I’m gone...”

Those words sparked new hope, and I decided to have a child for him.

But my body was damaged, and a natural pregnancy was impossible. Artificial insemination risked 50% paralysis.

Alan refused to accept it. Only when I threatened to end my life was our son, Zachary Winters, born.

A month later, a followup revealed Alan’s tumor was a misdiagnosis.

There’s nothing better than a false alarm—especially when it gives us new life.

Even if I had to spend two more years in a wheelchair, suffering excruciating pain day and night, I was at peace. I never imagined it was all a lie. Zachary—the child I risked everything to have—was the son of my husband and the daughter of my enemy.

I was just a naive surrogate.

After a long silence, I wiped my tears, took out my phone, and called Pat Sinclair, the youngest director in Kirk Theatre’s history.

“I accept the theatre’s invitation. Give me a week.”

The Kirk Theatre—the world’s most prestigious choreography competition and dream stage for dancers everywhere.

“No problem,” came the silky voice on the other end, a plucked cello string trembling through my ear.

A week was enough to sort out my past—and confront Alan.

I took a deep breath and added, “But I have one condition.”

When I got home, the house was quiet.

Zachary should still be napping at this hour.

I gently pushed open his door, careful not to make a sound that might wake him. But the music coming from the room made my blood run cold.

He was watching a dance video of Julia.

I bit my lip tightly and stood by the door, waiting silently as he watched the entire routine.

When the video ended, Zachary looked a little lost.

“Dad hasn’t taken me to see Aunt Julia in so long,” he murmured, holding his cheek. “If only Aunt Julia were my mom. Then I could see her every day.”

Every ounce of strength left my body, and my heart felt like a raw wound had been torn open.

So Zachary had already met Julia. So, in his heart, she mattered more than I did.

I stumbled, making a slight noise, which caught Zachary’s attention.

“Mom!” He flipped the tablet over and looked at me anxiously. “When did you get back?”

I saw hesitation in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, I deliberately asked, “What were you watching?”

His eyes darted away. “Cartoons!”

“Mom, where have you been? Zachary woke from his nap and noticed you weren’t here!” He climbed out of bed and threw himself into my arms.

He was bigger than most kids his age, and the force of his hug sent a sharp ache through my knees.

My vision blurred, and I collapsed to the floor, tears streaming uncontrollably.

“Mom, why are you crying again?” Zachary asked, anger creeping into his voice instead of concern. “I just wanted you to hold me, and you’re crying like that. Not like Julia…”

He quickly stopped himself, obviously warned by Alan not to mention Julia around me. Zachary curled his lips in frustration. “Other kids have their moms holding them, but you? You’re always complaining about pain. How can you be a mom like that? Humph!”

I stood frozen, watching him run circles around me and then head downstairs.

This is the child I fought so hard to bring into this world. This is the child I raised, despite the unbearable pain.

I curled up on the floor, my tears forming a small puddle beneath me.

On the way home, my mind kept circling the question: What should I do with this child?

This child I carried for ten months, even if not of my blood, I raised him with my whole heart.

Loving him had become instinct, part of who I am. I wanted to take him with me.

But now, I realize—it’s unnecessary.

When Alan returned and heard what happened that afternoon, he rushed over without even changing.

His warm hand pressed gently to my knee, his face filled with worry and distress.

“Tell me, where does it hurt?”

His warmth made me feel queasy. “Zachary’s carelessness is to blame. I’ll have to teach him a lesson later. Nina, I’ll take you to the hospital first.”

“No, it’s not necessary.” I pushed his hand away gently and forced a smile. “It’s just an old injury. Nothing serious. A warm compress will do.”

Alan’s phone suddenly vibrated. He glanced at the screen, then touched my face softly.

“I have work to finish. I’m going to the study. You should get some rest.”

“Okay.” I nodded but quietly followed him once he left.

Alan lit a cigarette and dropped his phone on the table, leaving it on speaker. “What’s going on?”

“Nina performed a dance for me—a routine she’s never shown publicly before,” Zech’s voice echoed through the room. “Have Nina do it again, record it, and send the video to Julia.”

Alan hesitated. “Nina’s knee is acting up again. We can’t let her move around like that.”

“Stop making excuses. Julia needs it for the competition. You want to record it or not?”

Alan was silent for a moment. “Fine. I got it.”

“Dad!” Zachary, who had been quietly hiding in the study, suddenly appeared. Alan ended the call and asked, “Did you hurt Mom today?”

“I didn’t mean to...” Zachary sounded guilty. “I just wanted Mom to hold me. But she’s so useless! She cries whenever I touch her, unlike Aunt Julia—she holds me and spins me around!”

He hesitated, then asked shyly, “Dad, can we invite Aunt Julia over to play? I miss her!”

“Go apologize to Mom first. I’ll bring Aunt Julia over tomorrow.”

“Yeah! It’s a deal!”

I hurried back to my room, and soon Alan came in with Zachary.

Alan nudged Zachary, who stepped forward, head down, mumbling, “Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

I said nothing, only watching him quietly.

Zachary looked up, eyes wide.

How had I never noticed before how much his eyes resembled Julia’s? He was so good at playing the weak, pitiful child—the tenderhearted act.

I whispered, “Go wash your hands and get ready for dinner.”

Assuming I’d forgiven him, Zachary smiled, winked at Alan, and skipped away.

Alan helped me sit on the bed. “Should I call a doctor?”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I still want to see a doctor to be sure.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and whispered in my ear, “Nina, why don’t you dance for that kid, Zech?”

His lips brushed my ear, teasing softly, “Let the doctor heal your leg first. Then you can dance for me, too, okay?”

A bitter taste rose in my throat. That dance was hard enough for a healthy dancer—let alone for me now.

After winning gold at the Global Dance Competition, I’d impulsively danced for Zech once. The next day, after the celebration banquet, the car accident happened—and I never danced again.

In five years, Alan had never touched my scars. This was the first time he asked to see me dance.

Meeting his expectant eyes, my hands, hidden under the blanket, slowly clenched into fists.

Of course—as long as it was for Julia, he didn’t care about me.

I nodded, and he left satisfied.

The next morning, Zachary woke early, bubbling with excitement.

Alan returned early that afternoon. “Julia heard you were hurt and came to see you.”

Julia stood beside him, looking down at me. “Long time no see, Nina. Are you okay?”

I sat in my wheelchair and smiled faintly. “I’ll be fine.”

Leave this place, and everything will be fine.

Alan, six days left—and I won’t be fooled by you again.

“Hello, Aunt Julia!” Zachary suddenly popped out from behind me, puffing out his chest and proudly announcing, “I’m Zachary!”

Thinking I couldn’t see, he cheekily stuck his tongue out at Julia. “Dad told me you’re an amazing dancer! I really look up to you!”

Julia shot me a proud glance, crouched down to stroke Zachary’s hair gently, and said softly, “Thank you, Zachary. Auntie is very happy to hear that.”

“But your mom used to be even better than you,” I added quietly.

Zachary cocked his head, staring at me in disbelief. “Mom can dance too?”

Alan had hidden my dancing shoes and trophies, so Zachary had no idea about my past. He quickly said, “Aunt Julia, you’re wrong. Mom can’t do anything. Her legs shake after just a few steps. She can’t even manage as a housewife, so how could she dance?”

“Zachary,” Alan scolded sternly, “Don’t talk about Mom like that.”

Zachary pouted unhappily, but Julia, clearly pleased, pinched his cheek affectionately.

“Alan, I want to speak with Nina alone,” Julia whispered sweetly, tugging on Alan’s sleeve. “Remember? We were roommates in college.”

Yes, Julia was my college roommate—and I was the one who introduced her to Zechariah.

I used to think we were friends...

Alan gently took the reluctant Zachary away, while Julia wheeled me toward the gym on the first floor.

She moved confidently, clearly familiar with the house, showing no intention to hide anything.

As soon as the door shut behind us, Julia dropped her act and kicked my wheelchair hard. I grabbed the wheel, but it slipped, sending me crashing sideways. My knee slammed painfully against the metal frame, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

“How does it feel to be trapped in a wheelchair?” Her fingers, painted a bright red, tangled fiercely in the strands of my hair, pulling hard.

I groaned in pain but forced a smile. “Try sitting in it yourself—you’d understand.”

Julia’s expression froze cold as she pinched my chin sharply. “You’re nothing but a broken toy for others to play with. Who do you think you’re fooling with your fake superiority?”

I grabbed her collar. “You’re a different person now. Do you still have nightmares about your father?”

Back in college, Julia often cried out in her sleep, begging, “Don’t hit me!” and “Please!” I asked her many times what was wrong, but she always shut me out.

It wasn’t until I found bruises on her body that I realized her father was abusing both her and her mother. I wanted to call the police, but she clutched my hand tightly and begged through tears, “Please don’t let anyone find out.”

I had no choice but to speak with my mother, who helped connect Julia with a support fund.

Julia’s face twisted in anger, her grip tightening. “How dare you bring up my father? Every time your mother’s people come by, he beats me worse than before!”

“You and your mother pretend to help me, but it’s just a performance to satisfy your own savior complex. You never stopped to think about what I’ve been through!”

She slapped my hand away, her nails leaving a long scratch across my forearm.

“You don’t know the truth—Zech and I are married.” Julia lifted her hand to show the diamond ring gleaming on her finger. “If I shed a few tears, every man around you will fall at my feet.”

She curled her lip and looked away, scanning the room.

I felt trapped, like a helpless prey caught by a venomous snake.

Julia picked up a dumbbell and smiled brightly. “Zech’s like this—do you think Alan will be the same?”

Julia suddenly swung her arm and threw the dumbbell at me.

I could never have imagined she would do such a crazy thing. The moment the dumbbell flew towards me, I instinctively dodged.

My wheelchair overturned, and I fell heavily to the ground. My knees ached piercingly, and every bone in my body protested.

The dumbbell still grazed my forehead, burning with pain. Warm liquid flowed down my brow, and my vision was quickly filled with a bright red.

The gym door was flung open, and the moment Alan saw me, his pupils constricted.

"Nina!"

I reached out to him. "Alan, it hurts..."

"Mom! Zachary emerged from behind him. Seeing me, his face paled instantly.

I watched them run toward me, but the next second, Julia's voice rang out, tinged with tears.

"It hurts..."

Alan paused and abruptly turned.

I blinked hard, seeing him kneeling on one knee in front of Julia, his hands carefully supporting her calf.

There was a thumbsized scrape there, broken skin and faintly red.

Alan's voice tightened with worry: "What happened?"

Julia sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "I just wanted to get something to drink, but she suddenly kicked me and pushed me!"

"No, that's not the case!" I raised my arms to stand, but fell back heavily. "She was trying to..."

"She even picked up a dumbbell and threw it at me!" Julia pointed at me, tears welling up in her eyes. "If I hadn't blocked it, she would have killed me!" Zachary rushed over angrily, sat on me, and pounded on me, "Mom! How could you be so mean? Apologize to Aunt Julia!" I was choking, the taste of rust filling my mouth, and I coughed up blood.

"Zachary, that's enough." Alan picked up Julia and, as he passed me, looked at me with a cold gaze, as if he were a stranger.

"Nina, are you so jealous of Julia? You can't dance anymore, and you're going to ruin her competition?"

Zachary scrambled to his feet, ran over, and tugged at Alan's shirt. "Dad, let's get Aunt Julia to the hospital!"

The nurse suggested softly, “Why don’t you speak with Mr. Winters? He might not even know your mother’s condition has worsened.”

I spun on my heel and hurried toward the elevator, each step a stab of agony through my injured knee, as if I were walking on blades.

Outside the VIP ward, I found Zachary standing guard like a tiny sentry.

“Mom? What are you doing here?” His eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in suspicion. “You’re not here to hurt Aunt Julia again, are you? I’m warning you—if you try, I won’t let you!”

I brushed past him without answering, shoving the door open.

Inside, Alan sat at Julia’s bedside, cradling her hand as he carefully fed her water from a cup.

My voice cracked. “Send my mother’s attending physician back to her immediately. She needs surgery—right now!”

Julia coughed lightly, just twice, her voice trembling with perfect fragility. “It’s my fault. I must have caused all this. Alan… maybe you should go check on her.”

Alan finally looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Nina, what now? Your mother’s been fine for five years, and suddenly the moment Julia’s admitted to the hospital, she’s at death’s door?”

“I’m not exaggerating!” My forehead throbbed, each pulse sharp as a blade, and my tears spilled freely. “Please—just give my mother’s doctor back to her. She’s in critical condition and needs surgery immediately!”

“Enough!” Zachary lunged at me, shoving me hard. “Don’t delay Aunt Julia’s treatment!”

Alan rose, placing a protective hand on Zachary’s shoulder, his gaze turning icy. “Do you think I can’t see through you?”

He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Julia’s competing in the Kirk Cup next week, and you want to sabotage her. You’d even use your own mother to pull this stunt? How vile can you be?”

“I’m telling the truth!” My voice broke, desperation flooding every word.

My phone rang sharply. It was the nurse. I answered quickly, holding it out toward Alan. “If you don’t believe me, listen to her yourself.”

But he didn’t even look at the phone. “I don’t have time for your pathetic games. Get out. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Get out!” Zachary echoed, pushing at me again.

Julia coughed delicately, perfectly on cue. Both of them rushed to her side, their attention sealing shut like a locked door.

No one spared me another glance.

I crouched down slowly, gathering my phone with its cracked, glittering screen and pressing it to my ear.

In my blurred vision, Alan was brushing a strand of hair from Julia’s forehead with tender care. Zachary knelt beside her bed, offering her a drink with both his small hands.

In my ear, the nurse’s voice came faint and tremulous. “Ms. Ranford… we did everything we could. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Four long days followed—days spent entirely alone, arranging my mother’s funeral.

Alan never called once. Julia, however, sent a steady stream of messages—little photographs and updates meant to cut deep.

Alan is applying ointment to her small calf wound.

Zachary peeling an apple for her with exaggerated concentration.

The three of them were smiling together over dinner.

And finally…, a picture of Alan asleep beside her pillow.

At my mother’s grave, I knelt and traced my fingers over the photo of her smiling face etched into the tombstone. “Mom… I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I was blind—too blind to see the truth about the man beside me.”

When I walked away, I pulled my wedding ring from my finger and tossed it into a roadside trash bin without looking back.

Mom, tomorrow I’m leaving.

I don’t want Alan.

I don’t want Zachary.

I don’t want any of them anymore.