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!
