Lately, I had been plagued by lethargy, accompanied by a wave of nausea the moment I woke. A trip to the clinic confirmed it: I was pregnant. Gazing at the ultrasound image, my eyes welled with tears of sheer exhilaration. My husband, Arthur Sterling, and I had met during our humble beginnings, back when he was just a penniless boy starting a business in a garage. Today, he is the helmsman of the Sterling Consortium, controlling the lifeline of half of New York's real estate. We had been married for three years, desperately wanting a child, yet there had been no news. Arthur would always hold me and say, "Bella, don't rush. God will give us our gift at the perfect moment." Now, that perfect moment had arrived. "Mrs. Sterling, the fetus is just three months old and very healthy, but your constitution is somewhat weak. You must avoid any shock or impact," the doctor admonished. I stroked my lower abdomen, which had yet to show, my heart brimming with joy. No wonder my waistline had thickened recently; I had thought it was simply too many sweets. I couldn't wait to share the news with Arthur. I baked his favorite blueberry pie with my own hands, packed it into an exquisite insulated box, and drove to the Sterling Building in the heart of Manhattan. Carrying the box, I walked light-footed through the lobby toward the exclusive elevator that led directly to the CEO's office on the top floor. Just as I was about to press the button, a hand with bright red fingernails blocked my way. "This is a private area. Unauthorized personnel are prohibited." The speaker was a tall woman with immaculate makeup. She looked me up and down, her eyes filled with disdain. I politely raised the box in my hand. "I'm here to bring afternoon tea to Arthur." In front of outsiders, I was accustomed to keeping a low profile; I rarely called Arthur by his full name, and even less frequently did I announce, "I am his wife." The woman let out a scoff, as if she had heard a joke. "Oh, another gutter rat trying to fly up the branches. I am Chloe, Mr. Sterling's Executive Director." "Put the thing down and get lost immediately. I've seen plenty of these tricks." I frowned. "I am not a 'gutter rat.' I need to give this to Arthur personally. Please move aside." My persistence seemed to infuriate her. Chloe snatched the insulated box from my hand. "Who do you think you are? Dressed like a frumpy housewife, and you think you're worthy of seeing Mr. Sterling?" "And you brought this cheap baked garbage? Today, I'll teach you the rules of the Sterling Building." With that, she violently yanked me into a nearby lounge, locked the door, and raised her hand to slap me. A crisp sound rang out; my cheek burned with pain, and I lost my balance, falling to the floor. Before I could stand up, the sharp toe of her high heel kicked me in the calf. *My baby!* Ignoring the pain, I instinctively curled my body, my hands tightly shielding my abdomen. "Let's see what trash you brought." Chloe opened the box and dumped the blueberry pie directly onto my head. Warm jam mixed with cream flowed down my hair and over my face—sticky, messy, and humiliating. "Hah, blueberry pie? Did you intend to poison Mr. Sterling with this garbage?" She squatted down, roughly gripping my chin and forcing me to look up. "Since you like making it so much, then eat your fill!" She grabbed a piece of the smashed cake from the floor and forcefully pressed it into my face, even trying to stuff it into my nostrils. Choked by the cream, unable to breathe, I began to cough violently, tears streaming uncontrollably. Chloe wiped her hands with disgust and sneered, "Disgusting. You've dirtied my hands." She looked down at me from her height, mocking, "You didn't really think you could seduce Mr. Sterling with this level of craft, did you? Take a look in the mirror and see what a mess you are." I wanted to retort, but the coughing rendered me speechless. Just then, there was a knock on the lounge door. "Director Chloe, what's happening inside? There's a lot of noise."