“The bastard in your belly will die sooner or later, Hattie. Don’t be too smug.”
Fiona refused to let Hattie gloat, but Hattie was determined to do just that, now sporting a smug smile. In her mind, she thought, *Fiona, if you don’t try to kill this child, I would even look down on you.*
As expected, Fiona didn’t resort to violence then and there, something Hattie had anticipated.
Yet Fiona was harboring murderous intentions, it was only a matter of time before she acted on them.
Hattie decided to stoke the fire a bit more, to spice things up.
“Say whatever you like, but thanks to this child, I’ll soon have my status secured. Harry loves not only me but also the child I’m carrying. Oh, and by the way… you and Harry have been together so long, yet he has never touched you, nor has he ever thought about having children with you. Do you know why?”
Deep down, Fiona knew the answer. No matter how much she had done for Harry or how long she had been by his side, she could never hold a candle to Hattie in his heart.
Fiona was always deceiving herself, unwilling to hear the unpleasant truth from others.
“Enough!”
Hattie, unfazed by her outcry, casually glanced at her. “That’s because he finds your disability disgusting. Even if he married you, he’d still prefer me. He can’t let go of me. Once I have this child, you should go back to wherever you came from.”
Hattie spoke casually, then fanned herself with her hand. “It’s quite hot today. I won’t talk any more; I need to go back and rest. The doctor said this pregnancy is risky; I could easily miscarry if I get too agitated. I should be lying down all day. I wouldn’t have come out if you hadn’t insisted on seeing me.”
Hattie knew how to read people, a skill she had honed during her long relationship with Harry. With a sarcastic smile, she locked eyes with Fiona, whose gaze was filled with jealousy and murderous intent, then she turned away, talking to herself.
“Harry even hired a few extra servants and a chef recently to prepare meals for pregnant women. Being pregnant is such a hassle. There are so many dietary restrictions, and it’s so easy to miscarry if I eat wrong,” Hattie sighed. “Why am I even talking about this? Some people will never experience it.”
Pretending not to notice Fiona’s icy, murderous gaze, Hattie walked away, hands on her hips.
She glanced at the surrounding surveillance cameras, lamenting their presence. Without them, Fiona might have attacked her today.
It seemed she would have to continue playing this distasteful game with Harry a while longer.
But the fire she had stoked today should be enough to cause problems in Harry’s backyard.
When Hattie returned, the butler, looking worried, greeted her, “Miss Mason, are you alright?”
“Do I look like I’m not?” Hattie replied.
The butler shook his head seriously; it was hard to tell. If anyone had issues, it was Fiona, whose upset was visible even from a distance.
The butler had been too far to hear their conversation and didn’t want to speculate.
“I’m tired; I’m going to rest upstairs.”
“Miss Mason, would you like some dessert this afternoon?”
Hattie shook her head listlessly. “I’ve encountered bad luck, no appetite.”
Even though she was not hungry, being pregnant made her feel hungry quickly. She usually had a meal in the morning and another in the afternoon.
Typically, Hattie would have a nap after her meal, and by the time she woke up and sat on the balcony, Harry would be home, and they would have dinner together.
When Harry was not home, he would call daily to check on Hattie. Today was no exception. Just as Hattie went upstairs to rest, Harry’s call came through.
The butler truthfully relayed the day’s events to Harry.
“Fiona came today? Is Hattie alright?” Harry’s first instinct was to inquire about Hattie, already placing her first in his mind subconsciously.
“Just Hattie’s style,” he had experienced himself. Could Fiona really outdo her? Yet his first concern was for Hattie’s well-being.
“Miss Mason is fine; they talked for a bit and then Miss Fiona left.”
Harry calmed down, reassured that Fiona was sensible enough not to do anything drastic.
“That’s good. What’s Hattie doing now?”
“Miss Mason has gone upstairs to sleep.”
“Isn’t she usually having a snack at this time? Why is she sleeping so early?”
The butler explained, “She might be feeling down after seeing Miss Fiona.”
“Alright, I understand.”
Harry knew better than to overlook a woman’s mood; ignored, it could only grow into a larger issue.
He thought about how to cheer up Hattie, remembering she enjoyed desserts, especially cakes, which she hadn’t been eating much of due to the pregnancy.
On his way home from work, Harry stopped at the bakery that Hattie favored and queued up to buy her favorite durian layer cake.
Hattie had always had a taste for unique flavors like stinky tofu, durian, and snail noodle soup… the smell didn’t matter as long as it tasted good.
Her favorite dessert was durian layer cake, but Harry couldn’t stand the smell, so she rarely ate it. If she did indulge, it was always in secret, followed by mouthwash to ensure the smell was gone before she returned home.
Remembering the old days with Hattie, Harry couldn’t help but smile.
Unfortunately, those days were gone.
When Harry arrived home, he handed the durian layer cake to Hattie, advising her to eat only a little.
Watching her enjoy each bite, he chose not to bring up Fiona. It seemed that as long as he didn’t mention her, they could maintain this gentle, happy facade.
The next day brought rare good weather, and Hattie, touching her belly, sat on the outdoor balcony to soak up the sun. She held a book in her hand, one that Harry had bought for her during their last visit to a maternity store.
*First Day into Pregnancy* outlined many pregnancy tips-one for each day. However, Hattie had stayed on the first page, pretending to read intently. To the household staff, it appeared she cared deeply about the child. In reality, her mind was far away.
Books on pregnancy filled the shelves, prepared by Harry to keep her entertained, but Hattie had never finished even a page. She knew the fetus inside her wouldn’t last; there was no need for prenatal care, and certainly none for postnatal.
Hattie casually placed the book on her belly, squinting her eyes in the sun. Suddenly, she noticed a servant carrying groceries back home, a thoughtful expression on her face.
Hattie remembered this maid typically handled outdoor cleaning, while groceries were usually managed by the chef and another housekeeper. Why was she doing it now?
Hattie watched the bag in her hand, a sly smile curling her lips. It seemed the fish had taken the bait.