Ch 4

"Madam, please! Stop! Don’t hurt the baby!" the older maid cried out, her voice trembling. Her eyes went wide with panic as she watched Rosemary press so hard against her own stomach—as if trying to tear out the life that had only just begun to grow within her.

"You think this child could ever be happy in a marriage as rotten as this?!" Rosemary screamed, hysterical. Warm tears spilled freely down her flushed cheeks, tracing the paths of a heart shattered beyond repair. "He will never be happy, Bibi! He’ll only suffer—growing up while his own father hurts him and uses him! This baby is nothing but a pawn in his revenge!"

"Madam, please calm down! Listen to me!"

With shaking hands, the maid reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a sterile syringe—prepared earlier by Calvin’s strict order. Quickly yet carefully, she slid the fine needle into Rosemary’s upper arm and pressed the plunger.

A measured dose of sedative flowed swiftly into her bloodstream. Within seconds, a cold heaviness spread through her limbs. The tension drained slowly from her muscles, taking every last bit of her strength with it. Her body went limp, and she collapsed back onto the soft mattress—now feeling less like a bed and more like an iron cage. Her vision blurred, but the fire of rage in her eyes had not dimmed.

"Bibi…" she whispered hoarsely, her voice fragile and heavy as her head sank into the pillows. "I want a divorce… I won’t let him keep hurting me…"

The maid sighed in relief as Rosemary’s body finally settled. She pulled the thick quilt up over her mistress, then sat at the bedside, her face etched with genuine pity.

"Madam, please be patient a little longer," she soothed, gently brushing Rosemary’s messy hair. "I am sure he will love you again—just as he once did. Master Calvin’s love for you is real."

Rosemary let out a weak, hollow laugh—one that sounded heartbreakingly sad. "Love me? Didn’t you hear what he said? He only wanted revenge! Three years… all his kindness, all his affection… nothing but poison wrapped in honey!"

"Please, Madam… trust me. He could never truly hurt you like that," the maid insisted, her eyes earnest and naive.

"Enough, Bibi! Stop defending that devil!" Rosemary tried to say, summoning the last of her strength. "I want a divorce! I won’t stay one more second in this cursed house!"

"Please, just believe me," the maid said, taking Rosemary’s cold hand in hers. "I’ve looked after Master Calvin since he was a little boy. I know his true heart. He is a good man. He could never truly harm you."

"Could never harm me?" Rosemary whispered, a bitter, ironic smile touching her lips. "He could never? You are so wrong, Bibi. He is just a master of acting—the greatest actor the world has ever seen."

She turned her face toward the cold wall, refusing to argue further with someone so blinded by devotion to their master. Arguing with someone who kept defending the villain only made the weight in her chest heavier.

The maid sighed softly, knowing no words could heal the wound tearing Rosemary apart. After tucking the blanket securely and ensuring the sedative had fully taken effect, she stood, walked out, and locked the heavy wooden door—just as Calvin had ordered.

A suffocating silence instantly swallowed the vast room. Dim light from the bedside lamp cast long, lonely shadows across the ceiling. Rosemary squeezed her eyes shut. The sedative made her eyelids feel like lead and her head spin, but her mind refused to surrender. Her consciousness fought desperately against the chemical pull.

I cannot give up here, she told herself, stoking her will from within the silence. I won’t let myself and this child become trophies for his mad revenge. I have to find a way out.

With immense effort, she moved her hand—heavy as lead—under the pillow until her fingers brushed the cold, smooth surface of her phone. Slowly, carefully, so as not to make a sound, she pulled it out and hid it beneath the covers.

The screen lit up, casting a harsh glow in the dark. Her trembling hand unlocked it, then her eyes darted to the top right corner. Not a single bar of signal. Only a small cross and the words: No Service.

"Damn it… there’s really no signal at all," she muttered through gritted teeth. He had severed every connection—turning this magnificent mansion into a perfectly sealed prison.

She clutched the phone to her chest, staring up at the ceiling with eyes sharp and blazing hatred. The sedative slowly pulled her under, weighing her lids down, but the hatred burning in her heart only burned brighter.

"Calvin…" she breathed, her voice soft and slow as her breathing deepened. "Do you truly think I’ll let this baby be born exactly as you wish? That I’ll let you win this filthy game?"

A cold, threatening smile—born of despair and defiance—etched itself onto her pale lips right before her eyes finally closed.

"Very well… if that’s what you want. Then I’ll make you regret it for the rest of your life."