"Drag that shameless mistress off the delivery bed. She has no right to give birth to Oliver's child."

I weakly propped myself up from the bed, panic-stricken as I watched the women approach me. Instinctively, I wrapped my hands around my belly, which was contracting rhythmically.

My voice trembled as I asked, "Who are you? How did you get in here? Where's my doctor?"

The woman leading the group slapped me across the face. Two others grabbed my arms, one pulling while the other pushed, forcing me off the delivery bed.

As I fell, I clutched my stomach tightly, letting my head slam into the floor.

The impact made my vision go black, and a wave of nausea hit me hard.

Before I could even vomit, the violent contractions had me curling up in pain.

I looked up at the woman standing over me, my voice trembling with desperation. "I'm about to give birth... please, call a doctor."

She sneered down at me, crouching as she yanked my hair. "How dare you, a mistress, try to secure your position with a child!

"Let me be clear: no doctor will risk offending the heiress of the richest man to deliver your illegitimate child. That thing inside you is going to die today."

Heiress of the richest man?

Forced to tilt my head up, I looked at the woman whose profile bore a slight resemblance to mine and curled my lips into a cold smile.

As the only child of the wealthiest family, I was kidnapped at the age of eight, nearly losing my life.

After I was rescued, I spent a full year recovering at home before I could even walk again.

To protect me and prevent the tragedy from repeating, my parents locked down all information about me, erasing every photo of me from the internet and hiring several lookalikes to confuse the public.

A couple of years later, in high society, only those with direct blood ties to me knew what I truly looked like.

For even greater safety, my parents sent me abroad to study.

During those years, my parents turned a blind eye to the fake heiresses posing as me. As long as they didn't break the law under my name, they wouldn't pursue it.

But I never imagined their leniency would embolden her to such an extreme, where even the bodyguards couldn't stop her from barging in.

I glared at her furiously, grabbing her hand and yanking it down with all my strength. "Posing as the heiress and doing something this insane—aren't you afraid of karma?"

Her expression shifted, and she raised her other hand, slapping me hard across the face. "Posing?"

She retrieved her phone from her purse, shoving it in my face. "Take a good look. This is my billionaire dad and my fiancé.

"Even if you managed to get into Oliver's bed, he'll never marry you. The choice between the heiress and a mistress is a no-brainer."

I stared dumbfounded at the picture in front of me.

The Oliver she mentioned was my fiancé, and I had never introduced him to my father.

Judging by the level of intimacy in the photos between Oliver Ferguson and this woman, I couldn't help but suspect that Oliver had betrayed our relationship.

But with how advanced photo editing technology was nowadays, I couldn't just let one picture destroy the love Oliver and I had built over eight years.

I struggled to grab the phone from her hand. "I want to see Oliver."

She pulled her phone away, her expression turning even more sinister as she glanced at the others. "Start a livestream. I want everyone to see the fate of a mistress."

Upon hearing the woman's command, they immediately started the livestream, dragging me forcefully in front of the camera.

My stomach was in excruciating pain as I pleaded with them, "Please, help me call a doctor. I can give you anything you want. Just let me go…"

But they didn't care about my suffering at all. They pinned me down, forcing me to face the camera.

On screen, I was drenched in sweat, my lips turning purple and my face pale. I held my increasingly contracting belly with both hands, my body writhing in agony.

I looked desperately at the woman closest to me and begged again, "I'm really about to give birth. Please, save me…"

She scoffed, slapping me across the face and aiming the camera at me. "This shameless woman dared to steal the fiancé of the richest man's daughter. With the heiress present today, we will teach her a lesson."

After finishing her speech, she pulled the camera back and kicked me hard in the stomach.

"Children born of mistresses are b*stards. Today, we'll ensure that the child in her belly never sees the light of day."

The piercing pain made me collapse to the ground, and my baby seemed to sense the distress, kicking and thrashing inside me.

I instinctively fell to the floor, trying to protect my belly, but they yanked me up again. "Look at what the online commenters are saying."

The chat was scrolling at lightning speed. My vision was blurring, but I could still see the hateful comments flooding in.

'Messing with the richest man's daughter? She's asking for it.'

'These intervention people are notoriously ruthless. Only the heiress could gather them all.'

'Even if she is a mistress, this is too much. She's pregnant! She's dying!'

I struggled to break free from the woman's grip on my hair, but suddenly, I felt a tightening pressure beneath me.

I tilted my head back, my body spasming as I clenched my fists, desperately trying to use the breathing technique the doctor had taught me.

I gritted my teeth, feeling a tearing pain that drenched me in sweat, followed by a sudden sense of relief.

I trembled, reaching down, and to my shock, I felt my baby's head.

I looked up, my eyes pleading, toward the fake heiress. "The baby's head is out! Please help me call a doctor. If you let my child be born safely, I'll give you anything, even the title of the billionaire's daughter…"

The fake heiress approached me with a cold stare. She pinched my face to aim it at the screen, her voice dripping with malice as she asked, "Do you all want to see the spawn of a mistress being born?"

The comments were racing by, all filled with venomous remarks.

I closed my eyes in regret, deciding to conserve my strength for the delivery.

Before coming to Ironreach, I hadn't expected to go into labor early.

When I stepped off the plane, I felt fine. It was only after I exited the airport that the contractions began.

I kept calling Oliver, but his phone went unanswered.

Later, the bodyguards took me to the hospital, and before entering the delivery room, I texted Oliver the hospital's location.

The location was shared only with Oliver; not even my parents knew…

I clenched my fists, glaring at the fake heiress with fury. "If anything happens to my baby, I will make you pay."

She laughed maniacally, grabbing my baby's head and viciously pulling it outward.

The intense pain made my consciousness fade, nearly knocking me out.

I clung desperately to her hand, whispering for her to stop, but she frantically yanked my child out of my body.

The moment my baby left me, I collapsed into unconsciousness.

When I opened my eyes again, the fake heiress was holding my newborn high, smiling wickedly at me. "Look who's awake! Next, we'll livestream this little monster's demise."

"Don't…"

I scrambled toward the fake heiress, but she crazily let go of her grip.

The moment the child hit the ground, I stood frozen, my mind a blur.

As reality hit me, I stumbled through the chaos, my body drenched in blood, trembling as I crawled toward my child. My heart felt as if it were being squeezed tightly, the pain so intense that I could hardly breathe.

Shaking, I gingerly lifted him into my arms, but the cries I had just heard were replaced by an unsettling silence.

Looking down at his ashen, bluish face, despair washed over me. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

Desperate, I tried to push myself up and run for a doctor, but my legs felt like jelly, and I fell repeatedly without gaining my footing.

I collapsed to the ground, cradling him close, my palm gently patting his tiny body in a futile attempt to comfort him.

Before he was born, I had imagined countless nights wrapped around him as he slept.

Throughout my pregnancy, I had braved stormy weather to attend infant care classes, learning how to burp him after feeding, how to hold him so he would sleep soundly, and even studying infant gas exercises.

My parents, thrilled about his arrival, had built a three-story villa just for us, complete with a team of over a dozen servants, a nanny, a nutritionist, and even a preschool teacher lined up for him.

My father had started planning a grand celebration for his one-month milestone last month. That night, bursting with excitement, he called friends abroad and had his secretary reach out to friends back home, proudly announcing the good news of becoming a grandfather.

The invitation's cover featured a beautifully crafted layout of Oliver's and my names, with the inside content handwritten by us.

Even though Oliver had been swamped with work and rarely home this past year, he made sure to video call me every day, keeping tabs on the baby's growth. Whenever he spotted a cute outfit, he'd buy it right away and store it in the nursery, waiting for the day our child could wear it.

How could he, the embodiment of all our love, just be gone like this?

I lifted my gaze to the mockingly smirking fake heiress. Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up from the ground, but before I could regain my balance, a woman next to me landed a punch, sending me sprawling back down.

She raised her phone, shoving the screen close to my face, her voice dripping with mockery. "Look, everyone. This is what happens to mistresses!"

The screen was flooded with fast-scrolling comments, and yet I caught glimpses of the vile insults directed at me.

They said I deserved to lose my child.

They lamented missing the moment when the fake heiress had caused my child's death.

They added that I, a mistress like me, should rot in hell with my baby, for it was important to eliminate the problem at its source.

I fixed my gaze on the usernames, forcing myself to remember each of these scoundrels.

One day, I would settle the score with each of them, one by one.

The fake heiress laughed triumphantly, pressing her stiletto heel hard against my hand and looking down at me with contempt. "Karen? You steal my man, and I'll make sure you never find peace."

Staring at the sharp heel digging into my palm, I felt no pain.

Instead, I tilted my head back, facing everyone in front of me, laughing maniacally, "I won't forget any of you. Everything you've done today will be paid back in blood!"

The fake heiress laughed arrogantly. "I'll be waiting. Just don't be surprised if you meet your son first. Come on. Let's get out of here."

As I glared at their retreating figures, struggling to rise again, the fake heiress suddenly spoke, "Oliver, what are you doing here?"