Chapter 11

The ice-cold threat pinned Margaret firmly within the Neville family's prison.

Richard turned and left without a backward glance. Only when the dull thud of the front door closing echoed from downstairs did Crownspire Villa fall into complete silence.

Margaret lay on the soft bed, staring at the ceiling, her eyes burning.

After what seemed like an eternity, the bedroom door opened quietly. Tiana entered carrying a glass of water. "Mrs. Neville, Mr. Neville instructed me to take good care of you."

Margaret remained motionless, not even shifting her gaze.

Tiana placed the water on the nightstand. Looking at Margaret's unresponsive form, a flash of contempt crossed her eyes before she slipped out, quietly closing the door behind her.

Once in the kitchen, Tiana immediately pulled out her phone and dialed a number, her voice hushed and dripping with sycophancy. "Ms. Barnes, it's me."

Jennifer's voice on the other end was cheerful. "Tiana, how are things going?"

"Everything's under control!" Tiana straightened her posture, eager to claim credit. "Mr. Neville has confined her to the house with me watching her. He claims it's for her health, but it's practically house arrest! When Mr. Neville carried her back, her face was like a corpse—not a hint of color."

"Is that so?" Jennifer's light laugh conveyed complete satisfaction. "Then I'll trouble you to 'take good care' of her for me, Tiana."

"No trouble at all! I understand perfectly!" Tiana caught her meaning immediately.

After hanging up, the servile smile on Tiana's face transformed into calculating spite.

She opened the refrigerator, glanced at the expensive fresh ingredients inside, then deliberately reached for a plate of her own leftovers from the night before and a bread roll already showing signs of mold. She carelessly heated them in the microwave before carrying the tray upstairs.

"Mrs. Neville, dinner time." Tiana slammed the tray down on the nightstand. The bread gave off a sour smell. "Mr. Neville specifically instructed me to make sure you finish your meal. It's for your health."

Margaret's stomach was already churning with nausea, and the smell sent a wave of sickness straight to her throat. She turned her head to look at Tiana's face, which wore an expression of cold duty.

Was this Richard's directive, or a servant's bid for favor? Perhaps both.

She said nothing, simply closing her eyes.

Seeing no reaction, Tiana didn't press her. She stood with her arms crossed, watching like a prison guard.

After a long standoff, Margaret finally pushed herself up. Ignoring the food, she reached for her handbag.

She remembered she had some pain medication—specifically prescribed by her doctor for the bone pain following chemotherapy.

Just as her fingertips touched the small white bottle, Tiana swiftly snatched it away. "Mrs. Neville, what's this?"

Margaret looked up at her, her voice as faint as smoke, "Pain killers."

"Pain killers?" Tiana unscrewed the cap, poured two pills into her palm and examined them with exaggerated suspicion. "This bottle doesn't even have a label. Where did this dubious product come from?"

"Mrs. Neville, you're not just thinking of yourself now. You need to consider Mr. Neville and the Neville family's future heirs! How can you take something so questionable? What if it damages your health and affects your ability to conceive? Who would bear that responsibility?"

Without waiting for a response, Tiana walked to the bathroom and dumped the life-saving medication into the toilet, flushing it away. The white pills swirled and disappeared into the vortex.

Margaret watched Tiana, her lips trembling, unable to form words. Her body, her womb—just tools for the Neville family to produce an heir.

For the sake of this tool's "purity," any possible "risk" had to be eliminated. Even if it was medication keeping her alive.

---

The next two days were hell for Margaret.

Without her medication, the bone-deep, excruciating pain returned with a vengeance. Every day, Tiana "dutifully" brought stale bread and leftover food.

Margaret couldn't eat a bite. The medication's side effects had left her dry-heaving, bringing up nothing but acid and bile.

Her body deteriorated at an alarming rate. She developed a persistent low fever, her consciousness drifting in and out.

That afternoon, she woke from her dizzy spell and struggled out of bed. Leaning against the wall, she inched her way to the top of the stairs.

"Tiana."

Tiana, who had been watching television in the living room, came over impatiently and looked up. "What is it now, Mrs. Neville?"

"I need to see Richard." Margaret's hand gripped the banister tightly, her knuckles white with effort. "Call him. Tell him to come home."

Tiana snorted as if she'd heard the funniest joke. "Call Mr. Neville? Mrs. Neville, please don't make trouble for him."

"I've heard that Ms. Barnes had quite a scare recently and hasn't been feeling well. Mr. Neville has been by her side these past few days. Yesterday he even took Ms. Barnes to the countryside for horseback riding. He's being so attentive."

Tiana crossed her arms, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she added, "You should just stay put and stop causing problems. That's how you can truly help Mr. Neville. Otherwise, if he gets angry, you'll be the one suffering, won't you?"

Each word cut like a dull knife through Margaret's already shattered heart. While he enjoyed himself outside, he kept his lawful wife imprisoned here, at the mercy of a servant's cruelty.

Margaret couldn't hold on any longer. Her body swayed, and she slid down the cold wall. A warm flow surged from her nose. She instinctively wiped it, finding her fingertips stained bright red. Then more blood gushed forth.

She stared at the blood on her hand, her mind blank.

Tiana was startled by the sudden development but quickly regained her composure. Just a nosebleed—these wealthy ladies were so delicate.

"Mrs. Neville, is your health that poor? Why are you having a nosebleed?" Tiana asked without making any move to help. "You should go back to your room and lie down. Don't dirty the floor—it's hard to clean."

Margaret ignored her prattle. She leaned against the wall, letting the blood flow, her vision darkening as the world began to spin.

Before losing consciousness completely, her final thought was: Dying like this wouldn't be so bad. Dying as part of the Neville family would fulfill Richard's final threat.

Yet even facing death, she felt a lingering regret. When she met her parents in the afterlife, how would she explain the story of her life?

---

As night fell, a black Bentley silently glided into Crownspire Villa.

Richard stepped into the foyer, loosening his tie and carelessly tossing his suit jacket to the servant who approached.

Tiana immediately adopted a worried expression and hurried forward. "Mr. Neville, you're finally back."

Richard glanced at the silent second floor, his voice betraying no emotion. "How is she?"