Chapter 3

Vincent told Queenie to stay for dinner.

I couldn't sit still, like ants were crawling all over me. So I grabbed any excuse I could think of and escaped to my room.

It was late when Vincent finally stumbled into bed, drunk.

He grabbed my throat. Then he fumbled through the drawer and pulled out a pair of glasses. In his panic, he put them on me.

Then came one fierce kiss after another.

Vincent had always been very traditional in bed. Never changed things up.

But that night, he said he wanted to try something new.

At the height of it all, Vincent lowered his voice. "Call me Mr. Park."

Right then, I couldn't help but picture Queenie's face.

That was what she called him during the day.

Queenie came over to our place four times a week.

Whenever she had Henry working on his assignments by himself, she'd wander around the house, her sharp eyes checking out every corner.

Eventually, her gaze settled on the pile of vinyl records in the corner. "Move those out," she ordered.

The housekeeper hesitated. "Those belong to Mrs. Park."

I rushed over.

I was about to explain, but Queenie beat me to it. She threw all the records onto the floor.

She stepped right in front of me, blocking my way. "Henry's at the age where his curiosity is at its peak. Any little temptation could throw him off track, so we shouldn't have this kind of decadent music in the house.

"The best place for this stuff is the trash."

Vincent had given a strict order. When it came to Henry's education, whatever Queenie said went.

Ever since Henry came along, all my attention had been on the family.

People didn't think much of me outside the house, and I had zero friends. The only thing that kept me going in my downtime was music.

Now, even that small pleasure was getting taken away.

Queenie always had a way of making her arguments sound legit.

For Henry, I didn't say a word. I stood there and watched them toss my records into trash bags and drag them out.

But Queenie wasn't finished revamping Henry's study environment.

She took down our wedding portraits and hung up photos of world-famous scientists instead. "Henry should be surrounded by great minds and people of real intellect."

I figured she probably knew my situation.

I never went to college, but I could still tell when someone was being nice or not.

Queenie kept hinting that I was uneducated, no matter how she said it.

All I could do was smile. I couldn't find the words to argue back.

I told myself to put up with it; it was all for Henry.

But then Queenie took things even further. She went ahead and fired the housekeeper on her own and got rid of the washing machine, dishwasher, and robot vacuum.

She said, "Mrs. Park, as I said, a mom should be a role model. You don't want Henry to think you're lazy and just spend money all day, right? Shouldn't a mom be the one doing these chores?"

I'd heard all this before, back when I first got married.

Henry was already in kindergarten by then, but Emily still looked down on me.

She wanted me to move in with her, cook three meals a day, and clean up the whole five-story mansion after every meal.

She thought that was what a daughter-in-law was supposed to do.

But Vincent shut that idea down right away.

He took my hand and shielded me behind him. "Vivian is my wife, not your free maid. If you won't treat her right, then I will."

That very day, Vincent moved us into a new place, just the three of us. He even hired three housekeepers and a butler.

I didn't have to worry about a thing at home.

But all that disappeared in a flash.

When Vincent got home, he pushed up his glasses, not a hint of emotion on his face. "Sounds good. Consider it an exercise. It's just a bit of cleaning and laundry, nothing to get worked up about."

I felt like something was stuck in my throat, and I stood there, unable to snap out of it.

In bed, Vincent had his back to me, messing around on his phone. I could tell he was chatting with someone.

He was smiling to himself.

As soon as I moved closer, Vincent quickly turned off his phone.

He immediately turned over and wrapped his arms around me. "Tired?"

I was used to falling asleep in Vincent's arms, but tonight I could barely breathe.

I wasn't sleepy at all. My head was all over the place.

I hesitated for a long time, but finally spoke up to Vincent. "Can you stop letting Ms. Cole come over?"

Even in the dim light, I could see Vincent's brows furrow.

He said, "Why? Queenie, I mean, Ms. Cole graduated from a top university and has plenty of experience in education. She's fresh out of college, but she's already really capable."

Vincent's expression grew more serious. He looked me dead in the eye.

That look left me at a loss for words. After all, he was telling the truth.

Queenie really was a rare find as a teacher. Even Henry, who was usually so aloof, had nothing but good things to say about her.

But Queenie's hostility toward me was obvious. It wasn't even hidden anymore.