Chapter 2

I got together with Michael right when I was about to leave college behind. He was four years older than me. We met totally by chance, and honestly, I was head over heels for him from the very first moment.

I could still remember our first date. He was gentle, attentive, and so considerate.

And he never once raised his voice at me.

He told me he was still working on his startup and didn't have enough saved up to throw a wedding.

He said weddings were mostly for appearances, and as long as we were happy together, that was all that mattered.

But he also said he'd never let his own hardships affect me—he promised I'd have whatever everyone else had.

He also promised to use all the money he'd save from having a wedding to buy me jewelry instead.

The gap between our families was like night and day when it came to money.

My parents were totally against our marriage, but there was nothing they could do—I'd already gone behind their backs and married him in a flash.

After we got the marriage certificate, I worked my butt off, and I was making a decent amount of money each month.

Wanting to protect his ego, I almost never asked my parents for money.

I was dead set on sticking it out with him, no matter how tough things got, because I loved him.

I remembered how, before we even got married, he'd crack open pistachios for me in the dead of winter, his hands left covered with scratches and nicks from the tough shells.

My heart ached for him, but he just grinned and said, "Babe, I'd walk through fire for you. A few tiny cuts don't matter."

But in fact, the love we once shared had twisted beyond recognition.

And I was the one enduring all the torment—walking through fire, all on my own.

I pulled my hat low over my eyes, slipped on some sunglasses, grabbed my suitcase, and stepped out of the apartment.

Now that my dreams were crushed, it was time to face the truth.

"That bastard hit you again, didn't he?" my cousin said the moment she saw me, her voice sharp with anger.

I'd decided to crash at her place for a few days.

Just like always, she kept my parents in the dark about what Michael had really been doing to me.

"Cynthia, just leave him. Seriously, how many times has he hit you now?" she pressed, frustration all over her face.

"Divorce that jerk. Come home with your parents. Everybody knows the Simmons family is loaded—we could take care of you for your whole life and it wouldn't even make a dent," she urged, her voice softening.

I just kept silent.

The truth was, it wasn't the first time Michael had laid hands on me.

And every single time, it all came down to one person: Edith.

Michael would always tell me he'd lost his dad when he was just a little kid.

After every time he hit me, he'd crouch in front of me, sobbing and begging me to forgive him.

Watching him so tormented, I just couldn't find it in me to harden my heart against him.

So, all those years, whenever Edith and I clashed, I'd keep telling myself to just let it slide.

I figured a single-parent family must have gone through hardships I couldn't even begin to understand.

I told myself I needed to cut both Michael and Edith some slack.

But in the past two years, with all our failed attempts to have a baby, his outbursts just kept getting worse.

I wondered if he was about to kick me to the curb just because I couldn't give him a child.

I pulled out my phone—still nothing, not a single message from him.

In the end, I just went home anyway.

But what I overheard that day flipped my whole world upside down.

When I stepped inside, I could barely recognize my own home—it was like someone else had moved in.

Clothes were piled up everywhere, on the couch and across the coffee table.

And they definitely weren't mine.

I could hear low, hushed voices coming from the bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar.

Step by step, I crept closer, clutching my wildly beating heart as I pressed my ear to the bedroom door.

Barely thinking, I pulled out my phone and turned on the camera.

"Mike, I've been bending over backwards for you all these years, basically acting like your family's live-in maid. You seriously can't just ditch me now," Edith demanded.

"Edith, don't worry," Michael replied gently.

"Mike, let me ask you—when's the last time you visited your mom? You need to go more often and make sure to tell her how good I've been to you. That way, when she gets out of the hospital, she'll accept me as her daughter-in-law," Edith pressed.

"No problem. I'll listen to you..." Michael said, his voice trailing off.

"Don't try to dodge the question. Listen, your mom's the only one who knows where your ex-wife's inheritance is stashed. I'm not here for your family's money. You know I've been with you for over a decade. Don't go cold on me now, you hear?" Edith said.

Suddenly, the sharp sound of a slap came from the bedroom. "I swear to God, Edith, if I ever let you down, may I get what's coming to me."

"Ow, look at your hand—it's all red. It breaks my heart to see you like that," she teased, her voice dripping with honey.

Before they noticed me, I bolted from the apartment.

I sank onto a bench in the garden of our apartment complex, trying to absorb the shock of everything I'd just overheard.

Michael had been married before, and he'd kept it under wraps so well that I'd been completely in the dark.

All this time, Edith Bright wasn't really my mother-in-law.

My actual mother-in-law was in a hospital.

For years, Edith had been living in my home, pretending to be Michael's mom, and I never suspected a thing.

It was just ridiculous.

I couldn't believe I let myself marry into a family like that.

Right then, one thought burned through my mind: I had to get a divorce.

But it wasn't just about walking away. I wanted Michael to leave with nothing.

And I was going to make sure I scored a cut of the secret stash Michael's mom had hidden away.

Most of all, I was hell-bent on making those two jerks lose everything—ruin their reputations and watch their world go down in flames.