Chapter 1
Edward Grant brings another woman home, and of course, it's on our seventh wedding anniversary.
He saunters in like he owns the place, which, I guess, he does, oozing entitlement as he points her toward the living room.
And there she is, his unforgettable ex, Emily Lane. She's playing the part of the delicate damsel to perfection, clinging to his arm like a strong breeze might carry her off.
They're both looking at me now, expecting me to be the good little wife, the one who swallows her pride and works herself to the bone, the one who would kiss the boot that's stepping on her neck, all in the name of love.
[Ding!]
[Target achieved: Seven years of total devotion. Your payout is secured. System connection terminated. You are now free!]
A real smile spreads across my face. I don't say a word to either of them. I just turn and walk out the door.
The money is in the bank. My sentence is served.
*****
The day Edward Grant brought Emily Lane home was supposed to be our seventh wedding anniversary.
It was also my last day shackled to the "Perfect Housewife System."
The front door swung open, and a wall of freezing wind and snow rushed in, biting at every inch of exposed skin. Edward stepped inside, cradling a woman in his arms like she was made of glass.
Emily was wearing a thin white coat that did absolutely nothing against the cold and curled into his chest with the most pathetic expression. Tear tracks still glistened at the corners of her eyes.
The second Edward spotted me on the couch, his brow creased with irritation. He didn't even try to hide it.
He snapped, "Nora Sinclair, Emily's apartment lost its heating. She can't handle the cold, so she's staying with us for a while."
He was informing me instead of negotiating.
Emily peeked out from the safety of his arms and gave me this timid glance, letting out a whisper.
"Edward, won't Nora be upset? Maybe I should just get a hotel instead..."
"A hotel? No way. Those places are filthy," he cut her off without a second thought, peeling the coat from her shoulders while tossing me an icy look.
"This is my house, so I make the calls," he demanded. "Besides, Nora is the most understanding woman I know. She wouldn't mind something so small. Right, Nora?"
He was so sure I would nod.
Why wouldn't he be? For the past seven years, I had been nothing more than his loyal dog.
Whenever he stumbled home at three in the morning, wasted from some business dinner, I was the one behind the wheel to pick him up. He threw up all over my clothes, and I wouldn't say a word but clean it up.
When his chronic stomach problems flared up, I stayed awake for three days straight, making soup, and kneeled beside his bed to spoon it into his mouth one careful bite at a time.
His mother, Zara Grant, despised me from the start, never missing a chance to remind me how far beneath the Grant family I was.
Every single morning, I would kneel at her feet with a basin of water. I acted like her personal maid, soaking her feet and massaging them. Smiling sweetly, I said, "Zara, you must be so tired. Let me take care of you."
Even when his little sister, Chloe Grant, got caught bullying a classmate at school, I got sent to grovel on my knees, apologizing.
In our elite social circles, I was infamous for my infinite tolerance for humiliation. To everyone, I was his most obedient maid, the ever-submissive perfect wife.
Everyone thought I was hopelessly in love with him.
Only I knew the truth. There had been a countdown ticking in my head this entire time.
[Ding!]
[Congratulations! Target achieved: Seven years of total devotion.]
[You earned an S-grade rating.]
[In reward, three billion dollars have been transferred to your private Geneva Trust Bank account. The cancer cells were eradicated. You're free now.]
[The system disengagement initiated and completed successfully.]
That invisible wire, the one I had kept stretched impossibly tight for seven years, finally snapped.
I looked up at the picture-perfect couple standing in my living room. Suddenly, I started laughing.
Edward blinked. Clearly, that wasn't the reaction he was expecting.
"What's so funny?" he asked, an edge creeping into his voice.
I stood up slowly, smoothing down the plain loungewear I had been wearing for seven years because Edward preferred me in muted tones.
"Oh, nothing," I said lightly. "I was just thinking you two really do make a perfect couple.
"The guest room is down the hall at the far end of the first floor. It used to be the housekeeper's room, but since Ms. Lane is so delicate, I'm sure she won't mind. It shares a wall with the heating unit, so it stays nice and toasty. Just try to ignore the rattling pipes."
Edward's face instantly darkened.
"Nora, what the hell is that supposed to mean? Emily is our guest, so you can't put her in that room."
"So where would you like her to sleep?" I asked. "Our bedroom?"
I raised a brow as my calm gaze drifted past him to Emily, whose face had gone completely rigid.
I exclaimed, "As long as you don't mind waking up with nightmares, I'm happy to let you two have the bed."
"Nora!" Edward growled, his eyes flashing with disbelief.
Hours ago, that tone would have had me blinking back tears, stammering apologies, and tripping over myself to set up the nicest guest room in the house. I probably would have laid out brand-new toiletries for Emily and fluffed her pillows by hand.
But now, I just yawned.
"Relax. Stop yelling. You're giving me a headache," I muttered. "If the housekeeper's room isn't good enough, figure it out yourselves. I'm exhausted. Goodnight."
With that, I didn't even spare them a glance and headed upstairs.
Emily's trembling voice floated up behind me. "Edward, is Nora mad at me? This is all my fault, isn't it?"
Edward replied coldly, "Just ignore her.
"I've spoiled her rotten. This whole hard-to-get act won't last. By tomorrow morning, she'll be crying and begging you to forgive her."
I paused at the bend of the staircase, just out of sight. A dangerous smile curved across my lips.
Edward had absolutely no idea what was coming tomorrow.