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.”
