Nine months pregnant, I was fed abortion pills by George Williams' beloved Dorothy.

Doubled over from agonizing contractions, he told me to endure it—because Dorothy was giving birth today.

To prevent me from competing for favor, he ordered me hung upside down on the cat tree.

"I've heard reversing blood flow delays labor. Even if you deliver, it must wait until Dorothy's child arrives first. I promised her I'd recognize her baby as the Williams heir."

The excruciating pain from the pills sent me writhing across the floor. I knelt, sobbing, begging him to rush me to the hospital.

He kicked my swollen belly.

"Dorothy's too kind to drug you. You're the poisoner—you must've slipped hormones into her food! That's why she delivered early!"

"You're so far along—what harm could abortion pills even do?"

Later, seeing Dorothy and her newborn safe, he asked if I was still causing trouble.

But his assistant trembled uncontrollably.

"Mrs. Williams and the baby... they're in the morgue."

Cramps and contractions merged into one torment. Oxygen deprivation from hanging inverted pushed me toward unconsciousness.

Bile surged up my throat as I collapsed, cat tree and all.

Though I shielded my belly, warm fluid gushed beneath me.

My water broke; the baby fought desperately to emerge.

I screamed for the housekeeper.

"Mary! Get me to the hospital—I can't hold on!"

Munching melon seeds, she slowly sauntered over, scowling at the mess.

"Honestly, George isn't even home. Why the performance?"

"You could die here today—nobody cares. He stationed me specifically to watch you. Competing with Dorothy? Know who you think you are?"

Covering her nose, she hoisted me upside down again.

Blood suddenly pooled beneath me. She slapped me hard, then dialed George.

Fresh from arranging Dorothy's hospital stay, he snapped into the phone.

"What nonsense about giving birth?

If her child arrives before Dorothy's, kiss this year's salary goodbye."

Mary smirked triumphantly at me.

To crush my last hope, she added:

"But Mrs. Williams is bleeding."

My pained moans as I fell made George hesitate.

"Put her down. I'll—"

George weighed his words, interrupted by a sweet voice.

"George, my belly doesn't hurt anymore. No labor signs either."

"Pregnancy tricks women, especially late-term. They imagine imminent delivery—some bleeding's normal. Didn't that doctor say I've weeks left?"

Our due dates were nearly identical.

Both nine months along—neither at full term.

Without her drugging me, I'd never have these violent contractions!

George swallowed her lies, his voice icy.

"To hell with the hospital! Guard her—nobody touches her till I return!

Pathetic—even childbirth becomes a competition with Dorothy!"

George hung up the phone. Mary smirked at me with glee.

"See? I told you Mr. Williams only cares about Miss Dorothy. Why would he bother with you?"

The next second, she glanced at her phone and flashed me a malicious grin.

"Miss Dorothy's so thoughtful. She didn't want you feeling lonely, so she insisted I bring her favorite pet to keep you company."

But this was a highly venomous black widow spider!

I watched in horror as a gigantic spider crawled out of the box. Before I could beg for mercy, Mary had already bolted.

The spider, drawn by the scent of blood, scurried rapidly toward me.

I tried to move away, but my limbs were still bound to the torture rack. Excruciating pain left me completely immobilized.

It crawled up my calf along the blood trail, sending chills down my spine.

Ignoring the pain and fear, I was consumed by the desperate urge to kill it.

As if sensing my intention, it suddenly leaped onto my belly.

Needle-like stings erupted across my skin. A bloodcurdling scream tore from my throat before my strength vanished completely.

My eyelids grew heavy as death itself seemed to beckon me.

Mary suddenly reappeared, cursing under her breath.

Seeing me motionless, she seemed flustered.

She slapped my face repeatedly until I jolted back to consciousness. With my last ounce of strength, I begged her to take me to the hospital.

"That spider bit me... the baby will die."

She instantly released her grip on my hair, then slammed my face into the floor.

"You pathological liar!

Thought you'd actually kicked the bucket!"

Under my resentful gaze, her expression twisted with excitement.

"You cheap slut! You knew George adored Dorothy, yet you clung like leech trying to use that bastard child to climb up! I've had enough of you!

Look at your disgusting state—no man would touch you with a ten-foot pole!"

After her tirade, she finally remembered the spider.

"Where's Dorothy's precious pet?

Hand it over now."

She searched frantically but found nothing. Fear kept her a full meter away from me.

Mistaking a dark blood clot on the floor for the spider's corpse, she flew into a rage and kicked my abdomen.

"Tired of living, you bitch?

You killed Dorothy's favorite pet? How heartless can you be?"

"No wonder George despises you! Stay right here and rot alongside her pet!"

She made a call, repeatedly saying "Understood."

Before leaving, she cranked the air conditioner to its lowest setting.

"Dorothy specifically requested this—her pet loved damp cold. Enjoy the ride."

Shivering violently, the agonizing pain in my belly threatened to pull me under.

A baby's cry seemed to echo in my ears, but my tightly bound hands couldn't even reach for a phantom embrace.

George was the one who insisted on keeping this drunken mistake.

He'd once pressed his ear against my belly to feel the heartbeat.

Why did our imagined happy family of three end like this?

My child... next life, find a loving home. Never suffer with me again.

As my final tear fell, I felt my heartbeat fading.

Then the door creaked open again.

The newcomer froze at the sight of me lying in a pool of blood.

A guttural plea escaped my lips.

He stumbled backward, face paling.

"I-I'm just an errand boy! George sent me to guard Stephanie... make her cook for the mistress... please don't make this difficult..."

Fresh agony pierced my numb heart.

My husband didn't believe his wife was dying in childbirth—yet ordered his dying wife to cook for his mistress who had a dozen obstetricians on standby.

Our identities had been swapped in the eyes of outsiders.

How ironic?

I told him weakly, barely able to speak.

"I'm Stephanie. Get me to the hospital now."

He stared at me trembling for several seconds before finally making the call.

"Mr. Williams, I'm at your house. That Stephanie you mentioned is tied to the cat tree, covered in blood. She seems... she might not make it. Should I take her to the hospital?"

George let out a cold laugh.

"She's really putting on an act! Can't even bother cooking for Dorothy and comes up with these excuses!"

His tone grew firm.

"Don't you dare send her to the hospital. The housekeeper said it's chicken blood. Tell her if she wants my forgiveness, she'd better start cooking now. Otherwise, I won't come home tonight."

The driver tried to explain, but the call got cut off cold.

He crouched before me, confirming the blood pool came from me.

Frowning hard, he wrestled with his conscience before untying me.

"I don't know what you did to anger Mr. Williams, but this isn't right. I can't leave a pregnant woman to die."

He called an ambulance for me.

Before my racing heart could settle, the doctor's words sent it leaping to my throat.

Without the antivenom in ten minutes, I'd die.

But this specialized serum was rare domestically. Sourcing it elsewhere wasn't feasible.

After inputting my ID, the doctor lit up.

"You're Mr. Williams' wife!

This simplifies things—his private hospital must have it!"

He immediately dialed George.

"Mr. Williams, your wife got bitten by a black widow! It's critical. Doesn't your hospital still have that imported serum batch from last year?"

George exploded.

"Stephanie, are you insane?

Black widow?

Dorothy's spiders are harmless!

Not only did you kill her pet, you got someone to lie for you?"

I shook my head weakly.

The private hospital had serum because Dorothy got bitten before.

George had been frantic then. He never knew she kept venomous spiders to harm me.

The doctor defended me.

"Mr. Williams, we're real doctors. Your wife's cervix is dilated to six centimeters. She's delivering now. Without the serum in ten minutes, we'll lose both mother and child."

"Then let her die!

She's always threatening suicide but lives fine. Such a drama queen. I'd know my own child's due date!

Stop disgusting me!"

George hung up impatiently.

Dorothy's honeyed tone floated through, asking him to buy cake.

The doctor gave me a sympathetic look and decided to transport me.

"Take her to Mr. Williams' hospital. Doctors won't refuse lifesaving care, right?"

But George, to please Dorothy, had banned all pregnant patients.

The ambulance sat stuck outside, unable to enter.

George chatted on the phone while holding cake.

"Right. Dorothy prefers quiet. No admissions—no exceptions."

Like a fish on a chopping block, I lay bleeding on the stretcher. My eyes met his driver's.

The driver looked twice. I could barely speak.

He jogged over, pointing at me.

"Sir, that pregnant woman... she looks like your wife."

George turned and saw blood-soaked hair plastered over a haggard face.

He instantly looked away, disgusted.

"That bitch couldn't possibly get here."

The driver ventured carefully.

"Even if not... she's pitiful. Shouldn't we help?"

George glared.

"Feeling unemployed today?"

Which woman could match Dorothy's happiness?

Even if it's really Stephanie, she deserves it!"

His final look at me was like staring at a dead man walking, utterly detached.

Then he turned gentle while sending a voice message on his phone.

"Dorothy, I got the cake you love. I'm almost there."

The last shred of hope inside me was completely crushed.

Even at the hospital entrance, George still cut off my chance to survive.

But I refused to give up!

I borrowed a phone from the doctor and dialed the number I'd never dared to call.

"Uncle, I know I was wrong. Please save me and the baby."

My uncle only asked the doctor about my condition and address.

"Hang on just a bit longer. I'll get the antiserum to you within five minutes."

That authoritative voice shattered me completely.

In critical moments, only blood relatives step up to help.

I was put back in the car, racing to the nearest hospital.

The medical team had everything ready and waiting.

As the antiserum flowed in, my foggy mind snapped awake.

I felt myself being wheeled onto the operating table, countless tools moving over my abdomen.

The doctor kept shouting terms I couldn't grasp. Staff scurried about, trays of blood bags coming in.

Within half an hour, the baby was out.

But the operating room fell eerily silent—only the clinking of instruments echoed.

A dreadful feeling spread through me. I fought with every ounce of strength to see my child.

The doctor pressed me back onto the bed.

"Stay still. We're still closing the incision. Your baby absorbed most toxins, protecting you this long."

My mind went blank. Tears broke free uncontrollably.

After surgery, a designated driver took me away.

"Ms. Stephanie, your uncle sent us. We'll take you to the Manor House to recover."

The long-vacant home now gleamed spotless, equipped with hospital-grade facilities, a professional nanny, and doctors on standby.

"Stephanie, rest well. I'll handle George. Don't worry about any of it. I'll visit soon."

I sank into the soft bed, drifting into sleep.

George had been pestered by Dorothy for a full day, yet she showed no signs of labor.

Waking abruptly, he suddenly remembered Stephanie.

She'd usually fuss over minor things for hours—why complete silence tonight? Her pregnancy claims must've been lies.

He rubbed his tired temples, deciding to check on her.

Just as Mary arrived, he loosened his collar.

"How's my wife?

Did she apologize?"

Mary trembled, lips pale, avoiding his gaze.

"Ms. Stephanie, she—"

"What nonsense now?

Spit it out!"

George's impatience made Mary shiver again.

"The mistress... she and the baby... they're gone."

"Gone?"

His pupils dilated with shock. Dread surged, but he fought it down.

Mary kept glancing at Dorothy, terrified of misspeaking.

"She's dead."

George nearly collapsed, roaring:

"Dead? She was perfectly fine when I left—still throwing tantrums!"

"Is this her trick to get me back? Tell her I won't fall for it!"

Mary choked back sobs.

"Mr. George, it's true!

The hospital called—maternal and fetal demise! I tried your phone repeatedly—"

Then he recalled Dorothy had drained his battery.

He didn't dare think further, snatching keys as he bolted out.

The hospitals stood close. Flooring the accelerator, he drove against traffic to the entrance.

The director himself came to greet him.

"Don't give me that crap! Where's Stephanie Martin?"

The director shook his head regretfully with a sigh.

"Please calm down first. Your wife suffered prolonged poisoning, and after taking abortion pills without timely—"

"What nonsense are you spouting?

Did Stephanie put you up to this?

That damn woman—when I find her, she'll pay!"

George impatiently cut off the director, yet his strides quickened.

Stumbling into the morgue, he nearly lost his footing.