Chapter 1

It was a cold, rainy night in late autumn. The chill crept in through the window cracks, biting right into Claire Sutton's bones as she sat stiffly on the icy dining chair.

In front of her sat a bowl of soup gone cold and a table full of untouched dishes.

The air wasn't filled with the smell of food, but with her mother-in-law Margaret Dawson's biting insults, and her husband, Ethan Chambers, just silently took his mother's side.

This was Claire's third year married to Ethan, and her third year enduring everything in silence in this so-called "home".

Before they got married, Ethan was everyone's idea of the perfect guy—gentle, successful, and well-mannered.

Claire ignored her parents' mild objections and insisted on marrying him, thinking she was choosing love and a warm, happy family.

But she never imagined that Margaret, who'd been all smiles before the wedding, would rip off her mask afterward and become a mountain pressing down on her every day.

And Ethan, the man she'd poured her heart into, always had the same line: "My mom's had it rough. Just let her have her way."

Claire wasn't just sitting around at home. Before she got married, she'd been a top designer at a firm, earning as much as Ethan.

But to keep Margaret happy with her "a daughter-in-law should stay home" demands, Claire willingly took a pay cut and switched to a desk job.

Every day after work, she'd rush into the kitchen to cook, wait on Margaret hand and foot, take care of all the housework, and even hand-wash Ethan's socks and underwear.

But to Margaret, all her efforts weren't worth a dime.

Margaret shouted, "Claire, you're nothing but a jinx! You can't even make a simple soup right? It's so salty. Are you trying to poison me to get your hands on the Chambers family's house?

Well, dream on. Ethan bought this place before you two got married, so it's got nothing to do with you. You're just someone sponging off us, a total outsider!"

Margaret stood there, hands on her hips, spit flying as she screamed, her face twisting with fury.

Claire clenched her fists so tight that her nails dug into her palms, the pain making her eyes sting, but she still swallowed her anger and tried to explain, "Margaret, I made the soup just like you asked—only half a spoon of salt.

"Yesterday you said that was perfect. I worked overtime until seven, got stuck in traffic, and rushed home to make the soup. I just didn't have time to serve it hot. I swear, I didn't do it on purpose."

She'd been working late on a project all day, hadn't even had a sip of water, and rushed home on an empty stomach just to cook a hot meal for Margaret and Ethan.

But the second she walked in the door, Margaret tore into her, accusing her of being lazy, slacking off, and even hinting that she was hanging out with some other men. She said that coming home late meant Claire must be up to no good.

"How dare you talk back?" Margaret's voice got even sharper.

She snatched up the bowl of cold soup and smashed it hard on the floor. The bowl shattered into pieces, and the soup splattered all over Claire's pants, the greasy broth running down her legs, icy and bone-chilling.

She yelled, "I raised Ethan all these years, not so he'd bring home a wife just to make my life miserable. Look at you—three years married and still not a single sign of a baby.

"The Chambers family only has one son in each generation, and you're barren. And you still have the nerve to quibble?"

The word "barren" stabbed right into Claire's heart.

It wasn't that she couldn't have kids. Before they got married, Ethan said he wanted to focus on his career first and wait two years before having a child. Claire believed him and always used birth control.

Last year, when they finally decided to try for a baby, she spent months getting herself ready for pregnancy.

But Margaret kept shoving all kinds of strange folk remedies at her and constantly stressed her out, throwing her hormones out of whack and making her periods a mess. Still, nothing happened.

Margaret was the one who messed everything up, but somehow, all the blame landed on Claire.

Claire suddenly looked up at Ethan, who was sitting there on the couch, saying nothing. Her eyes were filled with desperate hope. She just wanted him to say something fair, to stand up for her, even if it was only this once.

But Ethan just frowned, sounding impatient and full of blame. "Claire, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop arguing with my mom. She's getting old, and her temper's short. Can't you go along with her?

"If the soup's cold, just make another batch. Why do you always have to make a fuss about everything? You're the one turning this house upside down. Is that what you want?"

Whatever warmth Claire had left inside her froze over.

Three years of marriage, and Claire had poured her heart out, scrimped and saved, served Margaret like her own mom, and counted on Ethan to have her back.

But all she got was endless nitpicking, Ethan always siding with his mother, and nothing but coldness and betrayal from him. He never saw her pain, never cared about everything she did for him.

To him, she was clueless, and Margaret could do no wrong.

Just a couple days ago, Claire had spotted some flirty texts on Ethan's phone with a female coworker. The woman called him in a cutesy way, saying she envied him for having such a perfect wife.

Ethan replied: [No matter how good she is, you get me better. She's so dull and annoying.]

Claire hadn't confronted him back then since she didn't wanna give up on their three years of marriage.

But now, with the broken bowl scattered across the floor, Margaret looking so pleased with herself, and Ethan staring at her with that icy indifference, Claire suddenly came to her senses.

This marriage was already rotten through. If she kept trying to stick it out, she'd only end up driving herself crazy.