My gambling-addicted husband Roman Patel was so excited he nearly went insane, actually setting up betting pools across the entire city on the gender of the baby in my womb.
Later, I miscarried. Heavy bleeding, and we couldn't save the child.
But Roman was thrilled like a madman, rushing off to announce the "good news" first thing. He said since the baby was gone, the betting result would be "neither boy nor girl," and he won all the stakes.
With that huge sum, he bought the biggest hospital in the city.
Roman walked over to my hospital...
Three years after our marriage, I got pregnant.
My gambling-addicted husband Roman Patel was so excited he nearly went insane, actually setting up betting pools across the entire city on the gender of the baby in my womb.
Later, I miscarried. Heavy bleeding, and we couldn't save the child.
But Roman was thrilled like a madman, rushing off to announce the "good news" first thing. He said since the baby was gone, the betting result would be "neither boy nor girl," and he won all the stakes.
With that huge sum, he bought the biggest hospital in the city.
Roman walked over to my hospital bed, his eyes bloodshot as he told me, "Valentina, this hospital is ours now." Valentina Brooks is my name.
He also said, "The doctors here will definitely get you pregnant again as fast as possible. Then I can set up another betting pool."
Thinking of our family's curse that "the first child must die," I smiled.
I said, "Alright, Roman. This time we should definitely bet big."
Roman's eyes were bloodshot—not from grief, but from the excitement of running betting operations for days on end.
