Chapter 2

The moment I ended the call with my lawyer, Dave appeared behind me, his voice sickly sweet as he tried to reason with me.

"Elise, listen. If it weren't for me picking you up that night, I wouldn't have missed Bianca's wedding. I wouldn't have let her marry that old man. Do you have any idea how much she's suffered? She's alone now, Elise, with a child. If I don't take care of them, who will?"

I turned slowly, staring at him like he'd lost his mind.

"What's your logic here, Dave? Why is she in our master bedroom? What's next? Are the three of us sleeping in there together? And tell me, is a hotel not an option? Or does her suffering somehow evaporate only when she's in my house, making me miserable?"

Bianca might be struggling, but I wasn't exactly living on a beach chair, sipping cocktails. I took care of his mother and our four-year-old daughter, and yet that didn't count for much.

Dave squinted at me, irritation flashing in his eyes.

"Elise, when did you become so unreasonable? Bianca and I are over. She wouldn't be here if her husband hadn't died and left her penniless. She's got nowhere else to go. Why are you always targeting her?"

Maybe because Bianca and Dave had been together for seven years since high school.

When they split due to work, it took her barely two months to marry a rich old man.

And that was when I found Dave. He was drunk and heartbroken, nursing his wounds in a bar.

I thought he was handsome and loyal, and I had a crush on him.

Later, fate, or maybe coincidence, had us bump into each other again at work. I thought it meant something, so I asked for his number.

Eventually, I helped him crawl out of that pit of despair. We got close, and then we soon got married.

I still remember the day of our wedding. Dave stood there in front of everyone, declaring how I had saved him from the depths of misery. He called me his one true love.

Now, here we were, just a few years later; he would rather comfort her than see what he was doing to me.

I clutched my chest, forcing myself to breathe as I whispered, "You're really letting Bianca move in?"

Dave hesitated briefly and said, "It's not like I'm marrying her, Elise. I'm her son's godfather, so I have a responsibility to look after them. Besides, I'm rich now. Only I can give Bianca the life she deserves."

He kept going, ignoring the way my face darkened with every word.

"She's already a widow. How could I let her stay out there alone? Besides, she's already said she'll help around the house: cooking, cleaning, taking care of the kid. Why are you so upset? Bianca's willing to shoulder all the housework, and you're still not satisfied?"

Such consideration and generosity must be based on deep affection.

Dave sounded so confident and proud of himself. In his mind, he had it all figured out. He'd provide for the family while Bianca stayed home and kept things running.

I was the woman with the marriage certificate and the mother of his child, yet I had become an unwelcome guest in my own home.

I looked down, speechless and disappointed.

My silence seemed to fuel his anger.

"You know her husband's dead. She's struggling, and you want to throw her out? How could you be so heartless, Elise? When did you turn into this... this snake?"

I looked up sharply, stunned at his rage.

Not a hint of guilt. No apology. Just pure anger and disgust, all directed at me.

At that moment, something inside me broke.

"Fine," I said quietly. "Let her stay for as long as she likes."

Dave blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Then a smile spread across his face, smug and victorious.

"See? That wasn't so hard. If you'd just been reasonable from the start, we wouldn't have had to fight. Now come help Bianca bring in her luggage."

I shook my head. "Congratulations to you both. I'll be heading back to my parents' house."

His smile vanished instantly. He stepped forward, blocking my path.

"What do you mean by that?"

I looked him dead in the eye. "I mean I'm done, Dave. I'm done with you."

Grabbing our four-year-old daughter's hand, I stepped past him and headed downstairs.

Before I could reach the door, my mother-in-law, Tania, appeared. Her expression was icy, her voice sharp. "Where do you think you're going? You're taking my granddaughter back to your parents' house just so they can badmouth my son? I don't think so. You're not leaving this house."

I let out a humorless laugh. "What do you want? That I sit here quietly and wait on that mistress like a servant?"