Chapter 1

The kitchen lights were dim, but they made the gray at Victoria Sterling's temples stand out even more.

It was 4:30 AM. While the city was still asleep, she was already tying on her faded brown apron, getting breakfast ready for her son's family.

For thirty years, ever since her son, Richard Sterling, got married, she'd been living in this house, turning herself into the family's invisible maid.

The blender's roar shattered the morning quiet. Victoria expertly poured the freshly made oatmeal into a thermos, then turned to knead the dough.

Today, she was making her granddaughter Emily Sterling's favorite pies, and she had to get everything ready before they woke up.

A familiar ache throbbed in her wrist, and she instinctively shook it out. It was the mark left by years of hard work, a silent badge of her worth in this household.

Footsteps sounded from the living room. It was Helen Sterling, Richard's wife. "Victoria, did you put sugar in the oatmeal today? Emily won't drink it plain."

Helen's voice was lazy with sleep, but she wasn't really asking. She was telling Victoria what to do.

"Yes, I put in two spoons," Victoria answered in a hurry, her hands instinctively speeding up as she kneaded the dough.

Helen didn't say another word and headed straight for the bathroom.

Not long after, Emily got up, dressed in designer pajamas with her hair carelessly draped over her shoulders.

She shot Victoria a dismissive look, then grumbled to Helen in Joriman, "Mom, this old hag is so dumb."

Victoria's hands suddenly stopped, and the rolling pin thudded onto the counter.

She'd minored in Joriman back in college, and even though she hadn't used it in years, she could still catch the blunt insult.

She looked up at Emily, her eyes wide with shock and pain.

But Emily acted like she hadn't even noticed, chatting away with Helen in Joriman about what they were going to wear today.

Just then, Richard came out of the bedroom, yawning.

He walked over to the table, picked up one of the pies Victoria had steamed, took a bite, and grinned at Helen and Emily. "Mom's cooking is always the best. You two were saying her pies are the real deal, right?"

Helen and Emily exchanged a glance, both letting out a barely noticeable smirk. Then Helen replied, "Yeah, Victoria's cooking is starting to suit our tastes more and more."

Victoria stood frozen in the kitchen doorway, feeling as if every drop of blood in her body had turned to ice.

Thirty years she'd been the workhorse of this family, and all she got in return was gossip behind her back and lies right to her face.

Each Joriman insult stabbed at her heart like a needle, and Richard's interpretation was the final blow, a knife that cut through the last thread of patience she had left.

Victoria drew a deep breath, fighting to steady the storm of emotions inside her. Then, slow and clear, she asked in Joriman, "Emily, who did you call an idiot?"

*****

The air froze. Richard nearly choked on his pie, Helen's smile froze, and Emily's eyes bugged wide, staring at Victoria in utter shock.

"M-Mom, you speak Joriman?" Richard stammered.

Victoria didn't answer him. She locked eyes with Emily, her gaze sharp. "I'll ask you again. Who were you calling an idiot?"

Emily shrank back, instinctively hiding behind Helen. Helen tried to keep her composure and said, "Victoria, what are you doing? Emily's a kid. What could she possibly say? But you, at your age, learning Joriman? Are you trying to waste your time?"

"Trying to waste my time?" Victoria laughed, the sound bitter and hollow. "I've been slaving away for you guys for thirty years, up before sunrise making breakfast, cleaning up late at night after you've all gone to bed.

"What do I get in return? You insult me in Joriman behind my back, call me an idiot, and then Richard covers it up, pretending you were complimenting my cooking?"

Richard's face flushed bright red. He never expected his mom to call them out so directly. "Mom, don't take Emily seriously. She learned a few Joriman phrases from her classmates, but she meant no harm by them. She was only fooling around."

"She meant no harm?" Victoria's voice rose sharply. "Calling her grandma an idiot in Joriman? That's your idea of fooling around?" She fixed her gaze on Richard. "Richard, is that what you think too?"

Richard was completely at a loss for words. He looked away from his mother and muttered, "Mom, you're reading too much into it. We were joking around."

"Joking around?" Victoria felt her heart go completely cold.

She looked at the three people she'd poured her soul into, and suddenly, they all felt like strangers. "Helen says all I'm good for is laundry and cooking, that I don't deserve any dignity. Emily calls me an idiot.

"And Richard, you said I'm nothing but an embarrassment to the family, and you even told me not to forget who's been supporting me all these years."

She spoke each word slowly and deliberately, every sentence hitting Richard and the others like a sledgehammer. Richard's face went from red to pale. He never imagined his mother had kept all those words buried in her heart.

"I'm nothing special, only good at laundry and cooking," Victoria said, her voice suddenly calm, almost chilling. "I've taken care of you for thirty years, and I know I've done right by you. But now, I'm done serving you."

With those words, she slammed the rolling pin onto the floor, the loud bang filling the kitchen. Then she marched over to the table and, with one sweep of her arm, sent all the food and dishes crashing to the ground.

Plates shattered, food and soup splattered everywhere, and the sound of breaking dishes was painfully sharp.

Helen screamed, "Victoria, are you completely insane?"

Victoria ignored her. She tore off her apron and slammed it onto the floor. "I've waited on you all for thirty years. From today on, I'm done with you for good."

She turned and walked away without a hint of regret. Richard tried to stop her, but one cold look from her stopped him cold.

After leaving the house where she'd spent the last thirty years, Victoria stood in the chilly morning breeze and took a deep breath.

She could smell car exhaust, breakfast stalls, and freedom. She flagged down a taxi, and when she told the driver her destination, he was stunned.

"Ma'am, you mean the Karlton Hotel in the financial district? That's a seven-star hotel. It's crazy expensive to stay there." The driver eyed Victoria's plain clothes in the rearview mirror, his voice full of doubt.

"I know." Victoria's voice was calm. "Let's go."

The driver, still confused, started the car.

Victoria watched the city blur past outside the window, her mind racing through thirty years of memories.

She remembered being a star student at a top university, her husband trusting her with the family foundation before he passed, and how she'd quietly stepped aside so her son could chase his ambitions, turning herself into a housewife who only cooked and cleaned.

There were so many memories and so many sacrifices, yet this was what she got in return. A wry, bitter smile curled at her lips.

The car pulled up in front of the Karlton Hotel, its opulent, golden exterior making Victoria squint a little. She pushed open the door and stepped out.

The doorman, taking in her simple clothes, shot her a look of barely concealed disdain, but bowed politely. "Ma'am, how may I assist you?"

"I'd like an executive suite." Victoria's voice was soft but carrying an air of authority that brooked no argument.

The doorman's eyes grew even more dismissive. He gently reminded her, "Ma'am, our executive suites are quite expensive. Are you sure you want to check in?"

"I'm sure," Victoria replied, pulling a black card from her canvas bag. She hadn't touched it in thirty years, and it was covered in a fine layer of dust.

The doorman took the card and scanned it absentmindedly. But as soon as the machine beeped, his demeanor shifted in an instant.

He looked at Victoria with wide-eyed shock, his hands trembling as he returned the card. Then he bowed deeply, his attitude suddenly respectful, as if he were facing someone entirely different. "Ma'am, please follow me. I'll take you to the executive suite."

Victoria didn't say a word as she followed the doorman into the hotel. The lobby was opulent, the staff impeccably trained, and the air carried the unmistakable aroma of expensive cologne and perfume.

It was a world completely foreign to the life she'd lived for thirty years, yet somehow, it felt like the life she was always meant to have.

Inside the executive suite, the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the bustling financial district.

Victoria walked to the window, gazing down at the river of traffic and crowds below. It felt like she'd woken up from a thirty-year dream. Now, it was time to truly wake up.

She pressed the service bell, and soon enough, a butler in a black suit stepped into the room. "Ma'am, how may I assist you?"

"I'd like lunch, and I want you to find me the best lawyer in town." Victoria's voice was steady and unwavering.

The butler blinked in surprise, then quickly bowed and replied respectfully, "Certainly, ma'am. I'll take care of it right away."

Before long, lunch arrived, personally prepared by the hotel's Michelin-starred chef. At the same time, the butler brought in a team of lawyers, led by a refined, middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses, James Carter.

"Ms. Sterling, hello. I'm James Carter. Your butler mentioned you needed legal assistance?" James handed her his business card, his demeanor impeccably professional.

Victoria nodded, then looked James straight in the eye. "I want a full breakdown of every asset registered under my name."

James blinked in surprise, but he put his team on it right away. A few hours later, a comprehensive report detailing all her assets was laid out in front of Victoria.