The Counterfeit Heiress’s Fall

At Sloane's command, they immediately started a live stream and forcibly dragged me in front of the camera.

The pain in my lower abdomen felt like I was being torn apart. I begged them, “Please, call a doctor… I'll give you anything you want. Just let me go…”

But they completely ignored my agony.

They held me down, forcing me to face the camera.

On the screen, I was drenched in sweat, my lips purple, my face deathly pale. I clutched my writhing stomach, my body convulsing from the excruciating pain.

I looked desperately at the thug closest to me and pleaded again, “I'm really about to give birth. Please, save me…”

Sloane scoffed, slapped me again, then aimed the camera at me. “This shameless woman dared to steal the fiancé of the Hawthorne family heir. Today, in front of everyone, I'm going to teach her a lesson.”

With that, she swung the camera around and kicked me hard in the stomach.

“A bitch's child is always a bastard. Today, I'll make sure it dies in there, never to see the light of day.”

The piercing pain made me collapse. My baby, as if sensing the mortal danger, thrashed wildly in my womb.

I instinctively dropped to the ground, trying to shield my belly with my body, but they dragged me up again. “Look at what the comments are saying.”

The comments scrolled by rapidly. My vision was blurry, but I could still see the overwhelming flood of viciousness.

‘She dared to mess with the Hawthornes? She deserves it.’

‘Sloane’s crisis PR team is notoriously ruthless. Only she could hire them.’

‘Even if she’s a homewrecker, this is too much. She’s pregnant! She’s dying!’

I struggled to break free from Sloane's grip on my hair, but suddenly, a powerful pressure built deep inside me.

I threw my head back, my body convulsing. I clenched my fists, desperately trying to use the breathing techniques my doctor had taught me.

I bit down hard as a tearing pain ripped through me, drenching me in sweat. It was followed by a sudden sensation of release.

Trembling, I reached down and was shocked to feel my baby's slick head.

I looked up, using my last ounce of strength to face Sloane. “The baby's head is out! Please call a doctor. As long as my child is safe, I'll give you anything, even my identity as the Hawthorne family heir…”

Sloane approached me with an icy stare.

She gripped my chin, aimed me at the screen, and asked in a venomous tone, “Do you all want to see how the bastard born from this bitch crawls out?”

The comments flashed by, a chorus of vicious celebration.

I closed my eyes in resignation, deciding to save my energy for the delivery.

I hadn't expected to go into labor before coming to New York.

I felt fine when I got off the plane. The contractions only started after I left the airport.

I kept calling Evander, but he never picked up.

Later, a bodyguard brought me to the hospital. Before going into the delivery room, I sent the hospital's address to Evander.

I had only given the address to Evander. Just him. Not even my parents…

I clenched my fists and glared at Sloane. “If anything happens to my child, I will make you pay.”

She burst into manic laughter, reached down, grabbed my baby's head, and viciously pulled.

The intense pain caused my consciousness to fade; I was on the verge of passing out.

I desperately grabbed her hand, begging her in a low voice to stop, but she was like a madwoman, brutally tearing my child from my body.

The moment the baby left my body, I blacked out.

When I opened my eyes again, Sloane was holding my newborn child high in the air, smiling wickedly at me. “Look who's awake! Next, we'll live stream how this little bastard dies.”

“No…”

I struggled to crawl toward Sloane, but she just laughed maniacally and let go.