Before my mother poisoned Jasper’s mother, Jasper and I were the childhood sweethearts everyone envied.

Though I was merely the maid’s daughter, he cherished me for ten years—shielding me from even the smallest harm.

But everything changed once blood and vengeance stood between us. To avenge his mother, Jasper forced me to become his servant—for ten years.

When he married Remy Slater, I was locked in the basement over a loose thread on her wedding gown. There, in a pool of blood, I gave birth alone.

By the time I was saved and regained consciousness, I watched him hand our newborn son to his new wife—as a wedding gift.

When that boy turned eight and finally learned I was his real mother, I fell off a cliff.

I watched from below as Leo ran into Remy’s arms, declaring, “I only have one mommy.”

That day marked the end of our ten-year contract.

So I let go, fell into the gorge, and vanished—as they wished.

But in the end, both father and son went mad, scouring the earth for a mere maid.

"What is this?"

Morning sunlight poured in gently as I knelt to help young master Leo Prescott with his shoes. But he suddenly pushed me away.

“Why is it dirty?” Leo raised his foot, pointing at a tiny orange-red smudge on the side of his brand-new sneaker.

“These are the new shoes Mommy bought me! You ruined them!” His lower lip trembled. Then, crying, he stomped down hard on my hand before I could pull it back.

“I hate you! I’m not going to school!”

Agony shot through me. I stifled a cry as I felt the small bones in my hand snap.

The servants swarmed in, shoving me aside. Some comforted him. Others scolded me.

My ears rang with noise as I watched Leo, now wearing another new pair of shoes, strut out surrounded by his caretakers.

He was the precious young master of the Prescott family.

And the boy who just broke several of my fingers—was my own son.

I struggled to my feet, cradling my throbbing hand, and walked out without a word.

Dr. King, the family physician, never treated me. I had to seek help from clinics outside the estate.

But I hadn’t even made it far when someone called out, “Mrs. Prescott wants to see you.”

I stepped into the studio. Remy stood before a canvas, painting a vivid bouquet of garland lilies.

The orange-red paint spilled across the canvas. She turned, smiled faintly, and asked, “Bianca, what do you think of my painting?”

Lowering my head, I murmured, “It’s beautiful.”

Her eyebrows arched, just as a voice came from behind.

“Jasper? You’re back early today.”

Jasper entered, holding a bouquet of fresh lilies. He exchanged a few soft words with Remy before turning to me, his expression freezing over.

“Put the flowers in a vase.”

I took the bouquet. It was heavy, and with my injured hand, I couldn’t grip it properly. The stems slipped from my grasp, scattering across the floor.

“I’m sorry, I…”

I bent down, reaching for a lily. Before I could grasp it, Jasper’s boot struck me hard.

I fell back, staring up into his cold, disgusted eyes.

“You can’t even clean shoes or hold flowers.”

“Bianca, did you forget you’re a maid in the Prescott household? Getting a little too comfortable, aren’t you?”

Before I could respond, he turned to two servants and ordered casually, “Throw her in the basement. No food or water today. Let her reflect.”

The heavy door slammed shut. Laughter echoed behind it as the servants left.

In the dark, I found the battered bed in the corner and lay down slowly, curling into myself.

I had been here too many times before. The first was eight years ago—when I gave birth to our son in agony and silence.

While Jasper married the socially perfect Remy.

He ignored thirty-six calls for help. Only after the ceremony did he send someone to drag my bleeding body to the hospital.

When I woke, he handed the baby to Remy.

“This is our wedding gift,” he had told her.

He didn't want Remy to suffer childbirth. So I suffered it alone.

I closed my eyes, drowning in pain, haunted by memories of what once was.

When I opened them again—he was on top of me.

Jasper’s breath was ragged, his hands tearing at my clothes. I struggled, shoving him away. He snapped, gripping my wrist in fury.

“Bianca, don’t you dare push me away!”

His hand paused.

Something felt wrong.

In the dim light, Jasper finally saw my mangled, swollen fingers.

I let out a scream.

And then—darkness.

In a rare move, Jasper summoned Dr. King to treat me.

Dr. King carefully bandaged and splinted my hand, a mix of pity and disbelief in his expression.

"This young lady has quite the tolerance for pain. Her fingers are already in this state, and yet she waited so long to seek help."

Jasper’s face darkened as he stared at my injury. It was a long moment before he finally spoke.

"Bring the young master up here."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Leo bounded up the stairs, practically glowing with excitement. Behind him, the servants followed closely, carrying a large tray of bamboo strips, which he pointedly had placed in front of me.

"I want a bamboo lantern! Just like the little bird you made last time!"

"It has to be ready by the day after tomorrow—and it better look amazing!"

Jasper glanced at my injured hand, let out a low cough, then turned to Leo.

"Her hand is hurt. Find someone else to make it for you."

Leo's eyes dimmed with disappointment, and just as he opened his mouth to complain, Remy walked in at a leisurely pace. Catching a glimpse of me from the corner of her eye, she smiled at the father and son.

"Then let me do it. Bianca can teach me."

But as soon as her fingers brushed the bamboo, a splinter jabbed into her skin, drawing blood.

"Are you alright?" Jasper stood immediately, rushing to her side, his hands carefully cupping hers with concern. Without even glancing back, he said coldly,

"She only broke the fingers on one hand. The other still works fine."

"Let her do it."

Leo stuck his tongue out at me and skipped out of the room, smug and satisfied.

Left alone with the coarse bamboo strips, I began weaving with my one uninjured hand. The sharp edges scraped my palm until blood ran freely, staining the lantern as I forced myself to complete it.

When I handed it to Leo, he took it—only to immediately recoil with a frown, inspecting every inch.

"Don’t get your blood on my stuff."

"Bianca, your craftsmanship is wonderful," Remy said sweetly.

Jasper raised an eyebrow and sneered.

"Yeah. Just like her mother."

"People can look human on the outside, but be worse than animals on the inside. Dirty. Disgusting."

His words stabbed into me, but my heart felt numb.

My mother, Sophia Hawke, once worked as a maid for the Prescotts. She had been close—like a sister—to Jasper’s mother, Nadia Huxley.

From the moment I was brought into the Prescott home, people whispered that Jasper and I were childhood sweethearts, a rags-to-riches fairy tale.

But then Sophia killed Nadia.

"Jasper, don’t be sad. It’s bad for your health," Remy said with a venomous smile, glancing toward me.

"I was just reminded of it when I saw the bamboo crafts Sophia left in Bianca’s room."

In an instant, Jasper’s gaze shifted sharply. He pointed at me with fury.

"You still dare to keep that bitch’s things?!"

The blood drained from my face. My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the floor.

"That was all I had left from my mother... I swear I’ll hide them better. I’ll never let Mr. or Mrs. Prescott see them again."

"Please. Please just let me keep them."

But it didn’t matter how many times I bowed my head, how the blood from my forehead mixed with tears and streamed into my eyes.

They still threw everything into the fire.

"Good. That’ll get rid of the bad luck," Jasper muttered under his breath.

Remy leaned into him, laughing with delight.

I looked up, vision blurred, but Jasper’s cold, merciless eyes pierced straight through me—like blades cutting into my heart.

Maybe it was how pathetic I looked, but he hesitated, just for a moment, and stepped toward me.

Before he could reach me, my body gave out. I fainted again.

When I woke, everything was quiet. I was back in my small bed, in my room.

Before I could focus my vision, I heard Jasper’s voice, sharp and demanding.

"Bianca. Why didn’t you take the medicine last time?"

My hand, resting on my lower abdomen, suddenly turned ice cold.

I struggled to recall that day, my mind clouded by chaos.

It was the anniversary of his mother Nadia’s death. He drank heavily and tormented me in bed the entire night.

The next morning, before I had even sobered up, Leo dragged me out to visit a scenic spot with him. We spent the whole day there.

That was the time I forgot to take my pills.

“You’re just like Sophia—vile to the core. Always clawing for things that don’t belong to you,” Jasper sneered, gripping my chin with disdain, as if bestowing some twisted charity.

“Well then,” he said coldly, “whether or not to keep the child—I'll let you decide.”

I stared into Jasper’s eyes, lost in thought, remembering the contract.

As revenge, he forced me to stay by his side—for ten years—as nothing more than a maid.

Now, there was only a month left before the contract expired.

“I won’t keep it,” I said slowly.

His hand released me at once, a strange flicker passing through his eyes.

“Heh. Don’t act so damn pitiful. Did you really think I’d let you have this child?”

Jasper turned back toward me, but I was already gazing blankly at the ceiling—my face pale as a corpse.

From then on, I was under house arrest, locked inside until Remy summoned me to massage her.

“You’ve always had your ways,” she sneered as I numbly worked her shoulders and neck. “Even over a decade ago, I couldn’t compete with you.”

Her voice dripped with malice.

“Jasper may never let you give birth, but somehow, that still doesn’t sit right with me.”

She smiled, then suddenly collapsed backward, scattering razor blades across the floor. With a quick motion, she dragged her fingernail across her neck, leaving a bloody scratch.

“Jasper!”

The moment he burst into the room, she flung herself into his arms, sobbing.

“I only told Bianca to keep the baby—and she pulled out a razor and tried to cut my throat!”

Without hesitation, Jasper raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face.

“Whore! You’re just like your mother!”

He ordered the servants to cover the courtyard with razor blades and forced me to walk across them barefoot.

I pleaded, over and over, that I hadn't hurt Remy—but he wouldn’t hear a word.

Just like back then, when I begged them to believe that Sophia wasn’t a murderer—but no one did.

Not even Jasper, the man who once looked me in the eyes and said he would always love me and trust me.

I walked across the blades, step by agonizing step. Blood seeped from my shredded feet, staining the ground as the pain pierced to the bone.

There was no time to rest. After a rough bandaging, Leo called me downstairs to make him dessert.

“Mom says I shouldn't eat too many cupcakes at night—so I’ll share them!”

He handed me the tray and had me follow him upstairs with the remaining sweets, meant for Jasper and Remy.

But just as he reached for the doorknob, Remy’s voice came from inside:

“Bianca is Leo’s birth mother, after all. Now that she’s pregnant, it wouldn’t hurt to give him a little brother or sister.”

“Maybe we should just let her keep it.”

Leo froze, as if struck by lightning. He turned and looked at me in utter disbelief.

My heart pounded wildly, and I panicked, not knowing how to explain.

Then I saw his eyes drift to my belly—filled with hatred.

My stomach dropped.

“I don’t want a little brother or sister! You’re not my mom!” he screamed, charging at me.

I tumbled down the stairs, and blood slowly began to pool beneath me.

Before I lost consciousness, I caught a glimpse of the calendar on the wall.

A bitter smile curled on my lips.

So be it.

It’s almost over anyway.