Entering the late stages of my pregnancy, my belly had grown even larger, and my body felt heavier than ever.

Joshua Jaxson, my husband, insisted I stop working and focus on resting at home.

One day, shortly after he left for work, I heard someone unlock the door. Thinking he’d forgotten something, I waddled over to open it. But instead of my husband, a woman with wavy hair and a bold outfit stood there.

Our eyes met and both of us froze in place.

“Who are you? Why are you in my home?” I asked, assuming she’d made a mistake.

“This is 5-102. Are you looking for someone?”

Before I could fully process the situation, she swung her arm and slapped me across the face. Stumbling from the blow, I nearly lost my balance.

“You’re living in my home and you don’t even know who I am?” she sneered.

“I haven’t been gone long, yet here you are, moving in like the shameless mistress you are.”

She didn’t give me a chance to explain before she rolled up her sleeves and struck me repeatedly across the face.

Terrified of hurting the baby, I tried to dodge her blows.

“You’ve got the wrong person! I’m not a mistress—my husband is Joshua Jaxson!” I pleaded.

“Then I’m definitely hitting the right person!” she spat, her strikes growing more vicious. My face burned, swelling red until my cheeks were almost numb.

Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Minerva Granger, my elderly neighbor, came over to intervene, blocking the furious woman.

“How dare you attack a pregnant woman! You have such a wicked heart!” Mrs. Granger said sharply.

“I’m calling the police!”

The crazed woman showed no fear.