Chapter 103
Camila's voice screeched through the phone, "I don't care what it takes—that baby in your belly needs legitimacy ASAP! We can't let that tramp hold onto her position as Richard's wife any longer!"
Jennifer clutched the phone with ice-cold fingertips. Her fear ran deeper than Camila's.
While Camila feared public humiliation, Jennifer feared complete ruin. She'd faked her pregnancy to seize Camila's support; now it hung over her head like a guillotine blade.
She needed to see for herself what other cards Margaret might still be holding.
That afternoon, Jennifer arrived at Crownspire Villa carrying an elegant fruit basket.
With Camila's backing and the supposed child in her womb, she gained unrestricted access to the second floor.
When she pushed open the door, Jennifer couldn't suppress the smirk that formed on her lips. The state of the room confirmed what she wanted to see—this was exactly how a loser should look.
"Margaret, I came to check on you." She placed the fruit basket on the nightstand, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Why is your room such a mess? Richard really shouldn't be so angry with you. Look at the state you're in—how could he still bear to..."
Seeing Margaret's eyes closed, Jennifer continued undeterred, settling into the chair beside the bed. Her words dripped with undisguised schadenfreude.
"Margaret, you know what? Richard got drunk last night and kept calling your name while he was holding me." She deliberately lowered her voice, leaning closer.
"He kept asking 'why won't you listen?' Isn't that funny? Your name on his lips, but his arms around me. A man's body never lies."
She twisted the knife deeper. "The doctor says my baby is perfectly healthy. In a few months, we'll be able to hear the heartbeat. Mrs. Neville has already started preparing the nursery. She says nothing but the best for the Neville family's first grandson."
"Don't blame Richard—he's just doing what's best for the Neville family. Once you've outlived your usefulness as a 'cripple,' he'll naturally dispose of you. Then you can reunite with your short-lived mother."
As Jennifer spoke, she carefully observed Margaret for any reaction. But there was nothing.
Margaret remained perfectly still on the bed, and Jennifer's smile froze. This feeling of punching into a void left her inexplicably anxious.
She stood up, looking down at Margaret with contempt, jealousy and unease brewing into nameless rage inside her.
"Who are you playing dead for?" She sneered. "Let me tell you something, Margaret—you've lost. You lost everything the moment you married Richard for money. You'll never recover from this, not in this lifetime."
With that, she turned and left the room. At the top of the stairs, Jennifer glanced back at the door, her gaze dark and calculating. This wouldn't do. She couldn't wait any longer.
Margaret's eerie state unnerved her. Time was running out.
She hurried downstairs, found a secluded corner, and pulled out her phone to dial a number she knew by heart.
When the call connected, she took a deep breath, her voice already thick with tears and victimhood.
"Dad, Richard is... he's mistreating me again because of that tramp..."
---
That evening, the Neville family gathered for a "family dinner."
Camila sat at the head of the table. Jennifer wore a light pink dress with impeccable makeup, treated as the guest of honor.
Across from her sat what could only be described as a ghost at the feast—Margaret, brought down by two maids. She wore a shapeless, oversized dress, her hair hanging lifelessly around her face.
Richard was the last to arrive, taking his seat without a word. His gaze swept across the table, pausing on Margaret for less than half a second before moving on.
Dinner began in near-perfect silence, broken only by Camila's deliberately warm conversation with Jennifer.
"Jennifer, try this soup—it's good for your health. You're too thin."
"Jennifer, I had them prepare your favorite dessert."
Jennifer responded with gentle smiles, occasionally casting shy yet possessive glances toward Richard. He completely ignored her.
Seeing this, Jennifer's hand trembled, and her glass tumbled onto the table. Her face instantly drained of color.
"What's wrong, Jennifer?" Camila was immediately alert.
Jennifer attempted a smile, trying to wave it off. "It's nothing, Mrs. Neville, I probably just—"
Before she could finish, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed sideways.
Chaos erupted. "Doctor! Call the family doctor immediately!" Camila shrieked, rushing to Jennifer's side. The maids scrambled, and the butler hurried to make the call.
Richard remained motionless, watching the spectacle with detached contempt. Margaret flinched slightly.
The doctor arrived promptly. After a brief examination, he straightened up. "Congratulations, Ms. Barnes. You're pregnant."
The room fell deadly silent.
Jennifer's eyelids fluttered as she looked around in confusion. Her hand moved to her flat stomach, and unbridled joy bloomed across her face. "Pregnant? Really?"
"Yes, dizziness and fainting are common early pregnancy symptoms."
Camila clasped her hands together, tears welling up, her voice trembling with excitement. "Jennifer, my dear girl, you've brought the greatest blessing to the Neville family!"
Jennifer sat up, supported by cushions, looking both shy and ecstatic. "I... I just found out today myself. I got the results and was planning to tell you and Richard privately."
She weakly gestured toward her handbag. The butler understood, retrieving it for her. She pulled out a folded document. "These are... the test results."
Camila snatched them, quickly scanning the document as her smile widened. "Six weeks! This date... Richard, this lines up perfectly with your trip to Oceancrest City!"
She slammed the paper down in front of her son, her voice commanding. "Richard, look at this! You're going to be a father! This is your child—you must take responsibility!"
Richard took the report. Everything swam before his eyes. He remembered getting blackout drunk on that business trip. The details were fuzzy; anything was possible.
His gaze moved past his mother's overjoyed face, past Jennifer's tear-streaked smile, landing on Margaret. She was standing now, supported by a maid.
A wave of intense disgust washed over him.
"It's not mine." His voice carried no emotion whatsoever.
The dining room froze. Jennifer's joyful expression shattered. Camila stood open-mouthed, disbelief and fury battling on her face.
Richard tossed the report onto the table as if it were contaminated. He looked at no one, his own denial hanging in the dead air. Even he didn't know where those words had come from.
Jennifer was the first to react. Her lips trembled, her tears finding an outlet, streaming down her face.