Because the family ties had been severed, the elder Swansons forbade her from ever setting foot in the Swanson house again.

Bartholomew had gone out with them to look for Sonia.

Mavis dragged herself up from the floor inch by inch, but a flood of dark red blood seeped from between her thighs.

Her vision went black, and she collapsed completely.

When she woke again, the servants had already carried her to the bed. The family doctor finished examining her and said, with concern,

"Mrs. Henson, you've just suffered a miscarriage. The bleeding hasn't fully passed, and with such violent swings in your emotions, if this keeps up, I'm afraid you'll be left with permanent damage."

Permanent damage?

All these years, she'd been schemed against by Sonia, in the open and behind her back. The wounds on her body were too many to count.

Before she could say a word, the television in front of her blared out the hottest headline of the moment.

"Breaking news: Mavis Swanson, eldest daughter of the Swanson Group, is a fake heiress who has secretly bullied the true heiress, Sonia Swanson, for years."

What followed was a barrage of video "evidence," shot from every angle, of her tormenting Sonia.

There was even official confirmation from Bartholomew and the Swanson parents. Just like that, she had become the wicked woman on everyone's lips.

The family doctor was on fairly good terms with Mavis, and offered kindly,

"Mrs. Henson, would you like me to tell Mr. Henson that you've only just had a miscarriage, so that he'll take better care of you?"

Mavis shook her head. "Thank you for your kindness, but please don't tell him I was pregnant. When the time is right, I'll tell him myself."

The doctor didn't understand, but respected her wishes.

"All right. This is a private matter between you and Mr. Henson, so I won't say a word."

Weak as she was, Mavis slept through the entire afternoon.

When she woke that evening and came downstairs to find something to eat, she happened to see Bartholomew walking in with Sonia.

Sonia pointed at Mavis and said,

"Bartholomew, you said it yourself. My sister has to be my maid for seven days."

Bartholomew noticed how pale Mavis looked, and felt a flicker of reluctance.

Sonia caught the man's hesitation and pretended to be hurt.

"Never mind. If you don't want to, I won't force it. I just don't know how my dear sister will bully me next time."

At that, Bartholomew immediately caved.

"Fine, fine, I promise you. She really was in the wrong this time, and she really does owe you some kind of amends."

The two of them simply made the decision for Mavis, as though she weren't even there.

"Bartholomew," Mavis said, "what gives you the right to decide for me?"

"I did nothing wrong, and there's no way I'm playing Sonia's maid to apologize. Dream on, both of you!"

With that, Mavis turned to leave, only for Bartholomew to seize her arm.

"Mavis, don't be ridiculous. You were a counterfeit heiress to begin with, and now you've hurt Sonia again. What's wrong with being her maid and letting her vent a little?"

Mavis's throat closed up, every word she wanted to say jamming in her mouth.

The day her identity had been exposed, this man had said the one he loved would always be her, no matter who she was.

Now it was clear. All of it had been garbage.

Mavis drew in a deep breath. Perhaps she should end this as quickly as possible.

"You want me to be her maid? Then sign something for me."

Mavis went into the room, took out the divorce agreement, flipped straight to the last page, and held out a pen.

Bartholomew didn't flip through it. He cared about only one thing. "Once I sign this agreement, you'll agree to be Sonia's maid?"

Mavis answered without a shred of hesitation. "Yes."

Sonia tugged at the corner of Bartholomew's shirt, wheedling,

"Bartholomew, hurry and sign it."

Bartholomew didn't hesitate. He didn't even read a single line. He simply signed his name.

Watching the man's signature land on the page, Mavis's throat went dry and raw.

Once, to marry him, she had stolen the family's household registration book, and Bartholomew had clawed his way up through years of grueling struggle.

And now, divorcing was this effortless.

Mavis took the divorce agreement and turned to go.

But at that very moment, the pregnancy test slip from before slipped free and fell, and Bartholomew, a step quicker than she was, saw what was written on it.

His expression turned grave in an instant.

"Mavis, you were pregnant?"

Mavis's heart leapt straight into her throat.

Before she could even reach for an excuse, Bartholomew let out a soft scoff.

：“Fake, obviously. Just another one of your little stunts to get my attention.”

“Mavis, you'd fake a pregnancy now? All to fight for my favor?”

She froze for a moment, then laughed. A bitter, mocking sound.

“That's right. There's no baby. It's fake.”

“How could I ever have a child with you?”

A love this rotten didn't deserve a child.

Watching how little she seemed to care, Bartholomew felt as if a boulder had settled on his chest, crushing the air out of him.

“There's a business banquet tonight. You're coming with me.”

：“Bartholomew, you already have Sonia,” Mavis said. ”Why drag me along?”

“Sonia's the precious heiress. You're my secretary. If anyone tries to push drinks on me, that's your job, naturally.”

Every word she wanted to say jammed in her throat. She only gave a faint smile. ：“Fine. I'll go.”

Once this was over, she'd treat it as the clean, final cut from every feeling that had ever existed between them.

Mavis filed the divorce petition, demanding it be expedited. Three days, and she would have the papers in hand.

……

That evening, just to humiliate her, Sonia made a point of forcing her into a server's uniform.

Amid the clinking glasses and the easy laughter of the banquet, Mavis stood out like a wrong note.

Plenty of people thought she looked familiar, but the outfit threw them, and no one dared place her.

“Mr. Henson, who's this beside you?”

Her marriage to Bartholomew had always been a secret. The world didn't know who she was. But out here, in front of people, he had always acknowledged her work, her ability.

This time, though, Bartholomew tossed out one careless line.

：“The household help.”

She'd known for a long time that the man's heart had turned. Still, hearing it from his own mouth made something inside her ache.

She lowered her eyes and let out a low, cold laugh.

Help? What household help slept in the basement beside her employer, pulled all-nighters on proposals, drank until her stomach bled, again and again, all for his sake?

The host, baffled by whatever was going on between these three, hurried to change the subject.

“I hear congratulations are in order, Mr. Henson. Marrying into the Swanson family? Though I'm told there are two Swanson heiresses now. Which one is the lucky bride?”

Before Bartholomew could answer, a familiar voice cut in from behind. It was Mr. Wagner, a man with deep business ties to Henson Group.

“Secretary Swanson, why on earth are you dressed like that? Is this some new project your company's running?”

Mavis couldn't bring herself to say it: that it was nothing but Sonia's petty revenge, and Bartholomew's silent permission.

Seeing she wouldn't speak, Mr. Wagner went on, teasing with a grin.

：“Never mind, never mind, I won't pry. Maybe it's some private little game between you and Mr. Henson.”

“Word is Mr. Henson's about to get married. You've stood by him all these years, and he's always looked after you so well. Don't tell me the two of you are the ones tying the knot?”

Sonia's face went white in an instant, and Bartholomew's expression turned stiff, too.

Mavis took it all in, then smiled at Mr. Wagner.

：“You're joking, Mr. Wagner. I'm only a secretary. How could I marry Mr. Henson? Besides, I don't even like him.”

Something in those words struck a nerve. Bartholomew's face hardened in a flash, and his voice dropped low.

：“Good thing you know your place. Of course I'd never marry a fake heiress. If I'm marrying anyone, it'll be the real one!”

Mavis had once been the Swanson heiress. Few people knew that.

She was already standing at the eye of the storm, and now Bartholomew had ripped the truth open without warning. Every gaze around her shifted.

Voices started up.

：“An adopted girl, actually dreaming of taking the real heiress's place? Shameless.”

“She probably knew the truth ages ago. Why else would she cling to Mr. Henson's side, playing little secretary all this time?”

The jeers kept coming, sharp and relentless, and Bartholomew didn't react at all.

Mavis laughed at herself, then turned and walked up to the second-floor terrace. She'd had enough of that crowd.

But Sonia had no intention of letting her have any peace, and followed her up.

Away from Bartholomew, she let herself be more brazen, more vicious.

“Mavis, Mom and Dad have cut ties with you. Bartholomew doesn't want you either. How can you still shamelessly cling to the Henson household!”

Mavis fixed her with a cold stare. ：“Sonia, I'm the one who married Bartholomew. I'm the name on his marriage certificate. You're the one clinging to the Henson household. Provoke me again, and I'll walk out there right now and tell every single person that I am Bartholomew's wife, and you're nothing but the mistress wrecking our marriage!”

“Sonia, the only reason I haven't bothered to settle scores with you is that I did spend over a decade enjoying the Swanson wealth in your place. But my patience has a limit. Don't push me again.”

Mavis stepped around Sonia, ready to head downstairs, but the woman's arm shot out to block her.

"Mavis, you're nothing but a cheap little fraud who stole my place!"

"Do you really think Bartholomew loves you? He's only with you because you carried the Swanson name. If the Swansons hadn't handed you that chance, you'd still be out begging on some street corner!"

Mavis looked at Sonia's strutting arrogance and almost laughed.

"Sonia, without the Swansons and without Bartholomew, I'll only be better off. And when that day comes, you won't even be worthy of carrying my shoes!"

She had no patience left to waste on her. She pushed past her and moved to leave.

But Sonia let out a sudden, sinister little laugh.

"Keep talking tough, Mavis."

"Tell me, if the two of us were in a life-or-death moment, who do you think Mom and Dad and Bartholomew would choose to save?"

Mavis thought Sonia had lost her mind. But the next second, a waiter ten yards off suddenly pulled out a fruit knife and charged straight at them.

Sonia screamed for help: "Somebody, help! Murder!"

The Swanson parents and Bartholomew appeared almost at once. The panic in their eyes was real, and the person they moved to protect was the same one.

The waiter was lunging toward her, yet every one of them shielded Sonia.

As Bartholomew threw himself around Sonia, she ducked into his arms and shot Mavis a taunting smile.

She deliberately let her whole weight fall against Bartholomew, and the man, caught off guard, bumped into Mavis and shoved her out on instinct.

A burst of searing pain. The waiter's fruit knife drove into her abdomen, and blood poured out in a wild rush.

The pain sent tears streaming down her face.

So in a moment of life and death, she would always be the one who could be shoved out to take the blow.

What happened after that, Mavis no longer knew.

Before she slipped into total darkness, only one thought burned itself into her heart.

She and Bartholomew were done. Right here.

The wound had struck somewhere vital, and Mavis lay unconscious for three full days.

When she finally woke, the doctor told her:

"Ms. Swanson, your uterus was injured. I'm afraid it'll be very difficult for you to have a child of your own in the future."

Mavis's heart lurched, and her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach.

So she could never have a child of her own again.

But she had never been the one in the wrong. Why did she have to bear so much of this injustice?

She refused to accept it!

Bartholomew, in the room next door, heard that Mavis had woken and rushed over at once to comfort her:

"Mavis, what happened this time was my fault. We'll never fight again. Let's live a good life together."

"Didn't you always want me to acknowledge you as my wife in front of everyone?"

"These past few years, the company was never stable. Now we're about to go public. I'll announce your status at my birthday banquet. All right?"

Mavis looked at him with no expression at all, finding it bitterly absurd.

Once, she really had longed for Bartholomew's public acknowledgment.

But now, she didn't need it.

That was what she felt inside, yet on the surface she kept up a hollow smile.

"Sure. As it happens, I've prepared a big gift for you on your birthday too."

"It's a gift you've been waiting six years for."

Bartholomew didn't know that the reason they'd gone childless all these years was his own low sperm count.

For six years, she had downed hundreds of tonics, nearly wrecking her body, just to finally conceive this child.

Since Bartholomew had killed the one person who once loved him most,

then she would kill the child he longed for most.

Fair enough.

Bartholomew had braced for Mavis to make a scene. Seeing her so reasonable, he was finally reassured.

"Mavis, I knew you'd understand me. I'll treat you well from now on, I promise."

She let him hold her, his breath hot against her, but she felt none of it.

When even her hopes in him were gone, how could she feel anything in his warmth?

Over the next few days, Bartholomew tended to her with great care.

But Mavis quietly got in touch with her biological father overseas.

The day before Bartholomew's birthday, she made a trip to the hospital, packaged the embryo herself into Bartholomew's favorite style, and set it inside a cold-chain box.

"Tomorrow at noon, twelve sharp, please deliver this to the Capital City Grand Hotel."

The courier asked: "What's this person to you?"

"My ex-husband."

With everything arranged, Mavis didn't go back to the Henson house. She took her ID, wheeled her suitcase, and went to the airport.

After meeting her father's people, just before boarding the private jet, she placed one more call to the local police.

"Hello, I'd like to report Sonia Swanson for hiring a hitman. She'll be at the Capital City Grand Hotel tomorrow at noon, twelve o'clock. Please go and make the arrest."

Every piece of her revenge in place, Mavis boarded.

Bartholomew, anyone who betrays a true heart should swallow ten thousand silver needles.

And you, you should rot in hell!