My marriage began not with a honeymoon, but with a trip to the clinic. With my mother at my side, I had an IUD fitted, a cold, clinical promise to devote myself entirely to Lewis, my late sister’s nine-year-old son. For five years, I played the part of a perfect mother, transforming myself into the kind of polished, presentable wife Adrian Sterling could have on his arm. On Lewis’s fourteenth birthday, I threw him a lavish party. As I was arranging the finishing touches on his cake table, he gestured toward me and sneered for all his friends to hear. "Her? She's just the homewrecking bitch who wormed her way in. You think I'd ever call her 'Mom'?" Adrian didn't even try to defend me. "It's all water under the bridge," he said dismissively. "There's no need to explain. You're Mrs. Sterling now, and that's all that matters." My nails dug into my palms. I knew that if I let this stand, my reputation would be permanently scorched. Later that night, the air cool against my skin, my husband’s body pressed against mine, his intentions clear. For the first time, I pushed him away. "I'm tired, Adrian. I want a divorce." "Be reasonable, Ava," he scoffed. "You can't afford to leave me." 1 A faint smile played on Adrian’s lips as he tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I’ve already dealt with Lewis," he said, his voice deceptively smooth. "He won't be spouting such nonsense again." When I remained silent, he stroked my hair as one might soothe a skittish pet. "He was just a kid back then, Ava. His mother had just died; he didn't understand why you suddenly appeared in his life. If you make a scene about this, it will only affect his studies, and that won't do you any favors." His words were a veiled threat, a reminder that my monthly allowance was directly tied to Lewis's academic performance. "I don't want the money anymore," I said, my voice flat. "Your son has already branded me in public. There's no point in continuing this marriage. A clean break is better for everyone." "You're not thinking clearly. We'll talk tomorrow, after you've had time to remember exactly why you married me." Why did I marry him? For the money, of course. When my mother proposed the arrangement, I was out of options. Perhaps, from the very beginning, Adrian had looked down on me. The first time I saw him, he was standing beside my sister, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. He held her hand so gently, his eyes overflowing with a tenderness I had only dreamed of finding for myself one day. "I don't want the money," I repeated, my voice firmer this time. "I just want a divorce." His patience finally snapped. He shot up in bed, his eyes blazing with fury, and pointed a finger at the door. "Get out. Stand in the hallway and think long and hard about where you came from, before you got a taste of the good life!" Wordlessly, I slipped on my slippers and, wrapped in nothing but a thin silk robe, stepped into the corridor. The night air sliced through the fabric, chilling me to the bone, but I didn't flinch. The Sterlings were a dynasty, and Adrian was its undisputed king. He was used to my obedience; my defiance was a foreign concept to him. The next morning, the house staff found me still standing in the hallway, motionless. They were stunned. Since moving into this mansion, I had been up at six a.m. every day, a silent shadow working alongside them to ensure every detail of Adrian and Lewis's morning routine was perfect. But today, even at nine a.m., I hadn’t lifted a finger. They sensed it immediately—something was different. "The watch my friend gave me yesterday, where'd you put it?" Lewis stormed over, already dressed in the outfit I had laid out for him the night before. He fiddled with his cuffs, his posture a mirror of his father’s casual arrogance. At fourteen, he was already as tall as a man, his features a sharp echo of Adrian's, radiating a cold, privileged air. "What are you doing, just standing there like a statue? I asked you a question." He looked me up and down, a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he took in my rumpled robe. By this time of day, I was always impeccably dressed. I saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a smirk; he was enjoying this. "I didn't touch your things," I said, my voice level. "And from now on, I won't be." From my first year in this house, I had managed every aspect of their lives, from their meals to their wardrobes. Lewis had severe allergies and a picky palate to match. Every pound he lost cost me thousands from my allowance. "You're talking to me like that?" His expression was pure disdain. "So, the nice little act is over, is it? Now that I've exposed you for who you really are?" Five years of my life, poured into caring for him, and it meant nothing. It was just as Adrian had once remarked to a friend, "She tries so desperately to imitate my late wife, but she's always just a clumsy parody." At 9:08, Adrian’s bedroom door opened. He glanced at Lewis, then his eyes landed on me. "Where are my clothes?" A bitter laugh almost escaped me. His clothes were in the walk-in closet, where they always were. But for five years, I had been the one to select and lay out his attire for the day. He didn't know how to function without me. When I didn't answer, he disappeared back into the room and emerged a few minutes later in a mismatched suit. "That's ten thousand off your allowance this month," he threatened, certain he had found my weak spot. He knew how much I supposedly cared about the money, how I'd cried when it was cut before. In their eyes, I was a greedy materialist, my eyes lighting up at the sight of every new designer bag he bought me. "And if you keep this up, you can forget about the rest of the hundred thousand, too." "You can keep it all. It doesn't matter to me anymore." Lewis’s eyes widened. "Oh, listen to her. Suddenly she doesn't care about money?" I turned, my legs stiff and numb from standing all night. I swayed slightly. "The money you give me isn't worth my self-respect." Father and son exchanged a look, and I saw a flicker of realization in their eyes. This was real. hurried off, and Adrian finally met my gaze. "You stood out here all night and you still haven't come to your senses?" "I've never been more clear-headed." With that, I walked past him, back into the bedroom, and collapsed onto the bed. Adrian closed the door, plunging the room into silence. Exhaustion hit me like a wave, and I fell asleep almost instantly. When I woke, the room was dark. I glanced at my phone—it was already five p.m. I changed and went downstairs to find both of them home. "You slept all day," Adrian said, his voice tight. "Are you ready to have a calm, rational discussion now?" I just smiled and shook my head. There was nothing to discuss. "I didn't eat a thing today because of you," he said, staring at me, searching for a hint of guilt. He found none. In fact, I found his statement hilarious. "I'm not your mouth. Whether you eat or not has nothing to do with me." His face flushed with anger. "The staff can't cook for me. The nutritional balance is off. They can't do it with the same attention to detail you do." I rolled my eyes, walked into the kitchen, and started pulling ingredients from the fridge. "I want grilled chicken wings. And go easy on the vegetables," Lewis called out, assuming I was back in my place, cooking for them. He realized his mistake when I placed a single steaming plate of curry rice in front of myself and started eating. "Where's mine?" Lewis demanded. I ignored him. Adrian's expression grew darker as he watched me finish my meal and place the empty dish in the dishwasher. Finally, he snapped. "You are determined to be difficult!" he seethed. He grabbed his son and stormed out of the house. The roar of his sports car engine was a shriek in the quiet night. For the next eight days, I was a ghost in that house, leaving early and coming back late. I found a new apartment and started sending out my resume, desperate for a job. The responses were disheartening. Either my applications vanished into a void, or I was met with polite rejections. I hadn't finished my degree; I was unqualified for any serious corporate position. Five years of my life had been wasted on domestic drudgery. A chilling realization washed over me: without a degree, I would struggle to build a life of my own. I messaged a friend, determined to sort out my education first. Before she could reply, Adrian's name flashed on my screen. I ignored it several times, but he was persistent. Finally, I answered. "Ava, don't you forget your place!" he roared into the phone. The force of his anger stunned me for a moment. My place? Was my place to be their caretaker until I died? Five years I’d wasted, orbiting them for money. I could tolerate it when I needed the cash, but now... I was done being their doormat. "Because of your little tantrum, Lewis had an allergic reaction. He's in the hospital, he's weak. Have you given a single thought to your responsibilities as a mother?" "A mother? I thought I was the 'homewrecking bitch.' How did I suddenly get a promotion?" Silence on his end. He couldn't comprehend why I was splitting hairs. I didn't want to argue. "Your son is fourteen years old," I stated coolly. "He's old enough to know what he can and cannot eat. Don't call me again unless it's about signing the divorce papers." I could feel his fury radiating through the phone. "You're serious about this? You really want a divorce?" "What's the alternative? Wasting the rest of my life on you two?" Suddenly, Lewis's voice cut in from the background. "You're just a homewrecker who got lucky! You talk about divorce like you're the victim here, like Dad did something to wrong you. This is about his company's overseas IPO, isn't it? You're trying to squeeze more money out of him at a critical time!" Adrian, prompted by his son, spoke again, his voice laced with contempt. "If you want more money, just say so. Don't waste my time with all this drama. If you try to sabotage my company right now, I will make you regret it." A laugh, sharp and humorless, escaped me. "I had no idea your company was going public. You never tell me anything about your business. This has nothing to do with that. I'm just sick and tired of you." "You want a divorce? Fine! We'll go to the city hall tomorrow. But you walk away with nothing!" A genuine smile spread across my face. I was finally getting free. "That's fine by me," I told him. "None of it was ever mine to begin with." I assumed that after signing the initial papers and entering the mandatory cooling-off period, Adrian would finalize the divorce as soon as the waiting time was up. Two months passed. His company's IPO was a resounding success. But every time I filed the final divorce application, he had it withdrawn. Today marked the end of yet another thirty-day waiting period. I went to his office, but as always, his assistant and secretary blocked my path. "Mrs. Sterling, I'm sorry, Mr. Sterling is not in. He's visiting a branch office today. Perhaps you could come back another time." I nodded politely, then pushed past the stunned assistant and burst through the office doors. There he was. Adrian. Sitting at his desk, pen in hand, signing a document. He looked up, not a shred of embarrassment on his face at being caught in the lie. I took the seat opposite him and told his assistant to bring me a coffee. Then I slid the final divorce petition across the desk. His composure finally cracked when he saw it. "If you dodge this again, I'm taking it to court," I said calmly. "The press will get wind of it eventually. I'm sure the resulting scandal will be far more damaging than just quietly signing these papers." He snatched the petition and, right in front of me, ripped it to shreds, flinging the pieces in my face. "Don't you push me, Ava!" His anger didn't scare me. I just stared at him, my expression unreadable. "We were married for five years. I'm trying to do this amicably, Adrian. Don't make this ugly for both of us." He reined in his temper, lacing his fingers together on the desk. "If you're upset because you and Lewis aren't close, you can have the IUD removed. I'll let you have our own child." So that's what he thought. This was all because I didn't have a child of my own. He stood and tried to reach for my head, to give me that patronizing pat again. I flinched away, and to my astonishment, he smiled—a fond, almost doting look in his eyes. "Lewis was young back then. Your mother and I both thought it was best for you to focus on him. But he's older now. We can have another baby. A child of our own would be a bond, something to stop these... fantasies of yours." Oh. He thought he could chain me to him with a baby. But... "And what's in it for me? A baby isn't what I want." A flicker of confusion crossed his face. "If you don't want money and you don't want a child, then what do you want?" "I dropped out of college to marry you. For five years, my entire world has revolved around you and your son." I pointed to the framed wedding photo on his desk—of him and my sister. "In all that time, aside from a marriage certificate, I don't even have a single wedding photo of my own." His gaze followed mine to the picture, and a look of dawning comprehension crossed his features. "Is that what this is about?" He thought this was all some petty tantrum. He moved toward me, trying to pull me into an embrace. "I can arrange a photoshoot. We'll hire the best photographer, fly anywhere in the world you want." He started barking orders at his assistant right then and there, a pleased look on his face. "You should have just told me. Of course I would have done this for you." He succeeded in patting my head this time. "I've just been so busy these past five years, Ava. I forgot you would care about things like this." A suffocating feeling rose in my chest. I didn't know where to even begin. This wasn't about a photoshoot. This was about the fact that I had never, not for one second, envisioned growing old with him. "Ava, you've always been a wonderful wife. I've been very satisfied. Don't continue this foolishness. You're starting to wear away the... affection I've developed for you." I let out a soft, bitter laugh. "Then you should let me go before it's all gone. I'm done being delayed. I have things to do." He stared at me, his eyes searching my face, finally seeming to understand that this wasn't a joke or a negotiation tactic. "I played the part for five years. I did my duty. I even tried to become your dead wife for you, and all it earned me was your contempt. Just let me go." His eyes turned red. He lunged, his hand closing around my throat. I could feel it trembling. Without a second's hesitation, I swung my arm and slapped him. Hard. Then I slapped him again with my other hand. "Ava! Are you insane? You hit me!" His grip loosened, and I gasped for air, coughing. He pointed a trembling finger at me, his eyes filled with a raw hatred I'd never seen before. "You're dead set on this, aren't you?" I nodded, my voice raspy. "We can still make it to the city hall if we leave now." He dragged me to his car and drove like a man possessed. When we screeched to a halt in front of the municipal building, I was out of the car in a flash, waiting for him on the steps. He took a moment to straighten his suit, his eyes still red-rimmed and glaring, before striding inside. As we waited in line, his phone rang incessantly. He took call after call, his voice clipped and agitated. Finally, it was our turn. Just as I was about to hand over our documents, my mother appeared out of nowhere. Without a word, she slapped me across the face and dragged me toward the exit. "Who do you think you are?" she hissed, grabbing a fistful of my hair and shaking my head violently. The pain was sharp, my vision swimming. "Getting a divorce without telling me? You will go back in there and apologize to Adrian right now, or I'm stopping the hospital payments." She continued, her voice a venomous torrent—the most she'd spoken to me in years. "Your father and Adrian are in the middle of a major business deal! Do you want Adrian to abandon our family because of you?" "If you want to starve, that's your problem, but don't you dare drag us down with you!" She released my hair, only to poke me hard in the forehead. As she ranted, I gathered myself and slapped her back. Adrian, who had just walked out, froze, staring at us in shock. "Are you crazy? Now you're hitting your own mother?" he exclaimed. "This is beyond reason." My mother, emboldened by Adrian's presence, puffed up with renewed indignation. "Ava, for years, Adrian and I have provided for your every need. We don't ask for gratitude, but you should at least remember the duty you accepted when you married into this family."
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