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Traded After Twelve Children: The Mistress’s Goodbye / Chapter 3: The Price of Survival
Traded After Twelve Children: The Mistress’s Goodbye

Traded After Twelve Children: The Mistress’s Goodbye

Author: Emily Pearson


Chapter 3: The Price of Survival

3

Now, I refuse to undress in front of everyone again.

After following him for twelve years, I bore him twelve children, but only two sons—five or six years old—survived.

Today, they are here too.

No, I cannot.

Even though they do not call me mother.

The heir always told them their mother was away recovering and would be back soon.

Now, they treat Lillian Shaw, soon to become the new lady of the house, as their real mother.

Seeing me refuse,

the eldest rushed over: "You’re a bad lady! Maddie says you spend Dad’s money all the time—Mom says you waste it on fancy creams and stuff. You must have taken my real mom’s things, too!"

I stepped back.

But behind me was the second son.

He struck my waist hard: "Bad woman, housekeeper said you seduced my dad and made my mom unhappy. Now you want to take my mom’s things—give them back!"

My heart ached again and again.

These are the children I struggled so hard to keep alive.

These are the children I bore, hiding away in the country house, enduring for my life.

The housekeeper smiled mockingly.

"Oh, feeling guilty? Clutching it so tightly—looks like we really do need to check this box."

There was a flicker of suspicion in Derek’s eyes as well.

"Is there really something hidden inside?" His voice was cold. "Since I promised to let you choose one thing, whether it’s a family heirloom or a priceless treasure, I won’t go back on my word. But if you’re greedy, I won’t let you off easy. Such sneaky behavior—are you trying to ruin my reputation?"

With that, he reached out to grab it.

The box fell to the ground, and out spilled velvet pouches.

The velvet pouches scattered like tiny coffins, the smell of old wood and dust filling the air.

The housekeeper was overjoyed: "So there really is something! This little vixen packed ten bags."

She opened them, but did not understand: "Why is it ashes?"

At these words, Derek’s face changed.

He already knew what was inside.

Ten velvet pouches, each containing the ashes of one of my ten children who died young.

I bowed my head, tears falling to the floor one by one.

The room went silent. Even the housekeeper looked away, suddenly uncomfortable, as if she’d just opened a wound no one wanted to see. The boys, too young to understand, shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.

Derek sighed softly.

He waved his hand, no longer checking.

"Enough, go. I know you can’t bear to leave, but Lillian and I are deeply in love, and I owe her too much. I have to make it up to her."

"I’ve already picked a good family for you. He’s Maddie’s uncle, has few kids, and you’re good at having children. If you give him a child, for my sake, the Shaw family will surely make you his wife."

His words hit like ice water—cold, careless, from a man who never had to bury his own. I felt the cold seep into my bones, but I kept my head down, clutching the pouches to my chest.

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