Chapter 3

Tania glared at me with utter disdain.

"What mistress? Don't be so nasty with your words. Bianca met my son first, so you're the mistress here!

"Rich men are never short of women. My son is wealthy now, so why can't he support another woman? Bianca is prettier than you, perfect for public occasions. You can just stay home, do the housework, and take care of us."

I was so furious that I laughed.

Fifty million in the lottery, and they were already comparing themselves to billionaires!

How could they be so arrogant and stupid?

I sneered loudly, mocking her, "Oh, right. You may not have the looks, but you've got the imagination."

Tania turned red with anger, jabbing a finger at my face.

"How dare you speak to me like that? No manners at all! You've lived in this house for weeks and still haven't learned how to cook a proper meal. Useless! My son was cursed to marry someone like you!"

Dave, silent as a shadow, moved to stand beside her, his gaze cold and hostile.

Like mother, like son. They were exactly the same, entitled and condescending.

Crossing my arms, I said coolly, "Didn't you say your new 'daughter-in-law' promised to take care of all the housework? Let her do it."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Bianca freeze mid-step, tears welling up in her eyes like she'd been wronged beyond belief. With a dramatic sob, she ran into the kitchen.

Dave's face twisted with panic.

"Enough, all of you! I'm just letting Bianca stay here temporarily to help her get back on her feet. Elise, why do you have to act like some jealous shrew? We have a child together, for God's sake! Do you really think I'd rekindle things with her?"

He scoffed, his voice thick with disdain, "If I still wanted Bianca, do you think I would let you carry my child?"

His words hit me like a punch to the chest, and I struggled to hold back tears.

"Fine," I said, my voice trembling with fury. "Let her settle in. I'll leave."

Tania's face darkened.

"Ungrateful wench! Bianca's son started calling me Grandma the moment they got here yesterday. She's been massaging my legs and being so considerate. Look at the mute little girl you gave us. She doesn't even know how to speak!"

My blood ran cold. My daughter wasn't mute. She was just silent, a silence born from trauma.

Years ago, Tania had taken her shopping and lost her.

I spent a day and night scouring the streets, only to find my little girl curled up and unconscious in a garbage bin.

The police later told me she'd been smart, slipping away from traffickers when they weren't looking and hiding in that bin.

But the experience scarred her deeply. Since then, she rarely spoke, and when she did, it was in whispers.

For a while, Tania had felt so guilty she spoiled her endlessly.

She even went to war with a neighbor's kid who had teased my daughter, yelling at their door until the child was sobbing.

Now? Bianca's son had turned her into a completely different person.

Watching the blatant disdain on Dave and Tania's faces, I couldn't help but sneer.

"Fine. Whoever wants to play the fool here can go ahead. It has nothing to do with me."

Dave wanted to be the hero while keeping me around, but I wasn't interested in being his mistress.

Whoever wanted him could have him. I was done cherishing this trash.

Dave mistook my sarcasm for submission, his tone softening as he tried to play the voice of reason.

"Elise, taking our daughter to your parents' house will only stir gossip. People will say I'm abusive or cheating. Do you want to ruin my reputation just to get back at me?"

I turned to him, a bitter smile on my face.

"Ruin it? Dave, you've already done a great job of that yourself."

Whenever I called Bianca a mistress, Dave and Tania would accuse me of being jealous as if they were some generous saint.

Dave pulled out his phone, transferred 100 thousand into my account, and sighed dramatically.

"I lost my temper earlier. I shouldn't have said those things. But isn't this fight just about money? Here, I've given you some spending cash. Stop being so petty, Elise. Your jealousy is out of control."

He paused and then continued arrogantly, "And don't push your luck. Next time, I won't be so forgiving."

A slap, then a sweet. That was Dave's routine.

For every argument, he'd belittle me, tear me down, and then throw me a handful of cash as if he were doing me a favor.

It used to work. Back then, I'd grit my teeth and let it slide because I would never turn down money.

But after we got married and had a kid, he only went further.

Now, looking at him, I realized just how much I'd let him get away with over the years.