The Alleged Mistress’s Comeback

"Drag that shameless mistress off the delivery bed. She has no right to give birth to Oliver's child."

I weakly propped myself up from the bed, panic-stricken as I watched the women approach me. Instinctively, I wrapped my hands around my belly, which was contracting rhythmically.

My voice trembled as I asked, "Who are you? How did you get in here? Where's my doctor?"

The woman leading the group slapped me across the face. Two others grabbed my arms, one pulling while the other pushed, forcing me off the delivery bed.

As I fell, I clutched my stomach tightly, letting my head slam into the floor.

The impact made my vision go black, and a wave of nausea hit me hard.

Before I could even vomit, the violent contractions had me curling up in pain.

I looked up at the woman standing over me, my voice trembling with desperation. "I'm about to give birth... please, call a doctor."

She sneered down at me, crouching as she yanked my hair. "How dare you, a mistress, try to secure your position with a child!

"Let me be clear: no doctor will risk offending the heiress of the richest man to deliver your illegitimate child. That thing inside you is going to die today."

Heiress of the richest man?

Forced to tilt my head up, I looked at the woman whose profile bore a slight resemblance to mine and curled my lips into a cold smile.

As the only child of the wealthiest family, I was kidnapped at the age of eight, nearly losing my life.

After I was rescued, I spent a full year recovering at home before I could even walk again.

To protect me and prevent the tragedy from repeating, my parents locked down all information about me, erasing every photo of me from the internet and hiring several lookalikes to confuse the public.

A couple of years later, in high society, only those with direct blood ties to me knew what I truly looked like.

For even greater safety, my parents sent me abroad to study.

During those years, my parents turned a blind eye to the fake heiresses posing as me. As long as they didn't break the law under my name, they wouldn't pursue it.

But I never imagined their leniency would embolden her to such an extreme, where even the bodyguards couldn't stop her from barging in.

I glared at her furiously, grabbing her hand and yanking it down with all my strength. "Posing as the heiress and doing something this insane—aren't you afraid of karma?"

Her expression shifted, and she raised her other hand, slapping me hard across the face. "Posing?"

She retrieved her phone from her purse, shoving it in my face. "Take a good look. This is my billionaire dad and my fiancé.

"Even if you managed to get into Oliver's bed, he'll never marry you. The choice between the heiress and a mistress is a no-brainer."

I stared dumbfounded at the picture in front of me.

The Oliver she mentioned was my fiancé, and I had never introduced him to my father.

Judging by the level of intimacy in the photos between Oliver Ferguson and this woman, I couldn't help but suspect that Oliver had betrayed our relationship.

But with how advanced photo editing technology was nowadays, I couldn't just let one picture destroy the love Oliver and I had built over eight years.

I struggled to grab the phone from her hand. "I want to see Oliver."

She pulled her phone away, her expression turning even more sinister as she glanced at the others. "Start a livestream. I want everyone to see the fate of a mistress."