Ten years of marriage, and Joel Gilbert still hadn't taken me home for New Year's Eve dinner.

I didn't dress up like I had in previous years, begging him to bring me along, pleading for just one glimpse of my son.

Instead, I straightened his collar with practiced care and stepped back like a good wife.

Joel ruffled my hair, his voice soft with reassurance.

"You've been so well-behaved lately. As a reward, I'll bring our son to see you."

Our baby had barely been weaned when Joel sent him to the Gilbert Mansion to win over Old Mrs. Abbott.

He'd promised me—once his mother accepted the child, she'd accept me too.

But yesterday, I'd snuck over to the mansion. And I saw Joel with his arms around his secretary, calling her his wife. I saw my son clinging to her, calling her Mommy.

Years ago, I'd made a bet with someone. If I couldn't make it through the Gilberts' door in ten years, I'd have to go back and marry him.

——

I pulled that number out of my blocked list—the one I could recite in my sleep.

"Send someone to pick me up tomorrow."

A low laugh came through the phone.

"So Mary Winfield's ready to admit defeat. I'll start preparing the wedding then. Can't wait to make you my bride."

His voice spread an ache through my chest.

I'd run from him all those years ago to prove I didn't need his protection, that I could build a good life on my own.

I never imagined these ten years would leave me with nothing but wreckage.

Joel emerged from the bedroom, frowning.

"Where are you going tomorrow? I'll have someone drive you."

I hung up quickly, forcing a smile.

"Just shopping with a friend. She's already arranged a driver."

Joel studied me, his gaze lingering long enough to make my heart race.

Finally, he handed me a servant's uniform.

"Mom's stomach has been acting up again. Don't let her see you—go dressed as a maid and cook her something medicinal."

He paused, glancing at me like he was granting a favor.

"If there's a chance, I'll let you see our son."

I took the clothes from his hands.

Old Mrs. Abbott's health had always been fragile. To win her over, to make her accept me as Joel's wife, I'd studied herbal medicine just to help nurse her back to health.

The first time I showed up with a pot of nourishing soup, she threw the scalding broth at my arm.

Joel had tended to my burns, furious, ready to confront his mother.

But I didn't want to be the reason their relationship soured. So I started going to the mansion disguised as a servant to prepare her meals.

Somewhere along the way, Joel got used to me playing the maid.

He also got used to dangling visits with my son as a reward whenever he needed to make something up to me.

I clutched the uniform, my son's blurry face flickering through my mind.

Before I leave, let me memorize every detail of him.

Joel drove me to the mansion himself.

We'd barely reached the parking garage when a honeyed voice called out.

I watched Joel's spine go rigid. Then he turned toward Kay Pruitt.

She stood there in a flowing dress, a gift box dangling from her fingers.

"Boss, this is the toy John Gilbertny wanted last time. I'll drop it off for him."

Her eyes swept over me, lingering, before she let out a little laugh. Her gaze traced the servant's uniform I was wearing.

"Mrs. Gilbert, why are you dressed like that to visit the mansion? I almost thought you were some new housekeeper Joel hired."

In the past, seeing Kay hovering around Joel would have sent me into a spiral—crying, clinging, desperate for reassurance.

And every time, Joel would turn cold and snap at me, calling me a hysterical shrew.

After I'd scratched Kay's arm once, he'd banned me from seeing my son for three straight years. Took the boy to Bali with her instead.

I wasn't about to stir up trouble before I left. Quietly, I gave up the front seat.

When we arrived at the mansion, Joel came around to open my door.

He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"Kay doesn't know her place sometimes. Don't take what she says to heart."

I nodded and slipped into the kitchen through the side door.

My heart pounded with a fragile hope—maybe Joel still had some real feelings for me after all.

I glanced back, only to see him guide Kay inside with his hand resting tenderly on the small of her back.

The housekeeper bowed respectfully. "Welcome home, Mr. Gilbert, Mrs. Gilbert."

My nails dug into my palms until they stung. I turned away with a quiet, bitter laugh.

The kitchen was overflowing with ingredients—preparing everything would be exhausting. But thinking of the way Johnny's face lit up whenever he ate something he loved, what did a little exhaustion matter?

Then I heard it—a bright, cheerful voice calling out, "Mama!"

My eyes burned. My vision blurred.

I quickly wiped away the tears and turned around, arms already open wide.

But it wasn't me he ran to. Johnny threw himself into Kay's arms, excitedly calling her "Mama."

Kay held him close, shooting me a look of pure triumph.

Johnny noticed me standing there, covered in fish blood and grime. His little face twisted with disgust.

"Mama, she's so dirty—like a beggar. Let's get out of here."

That look of revulsion cut through me like a blade, slicing my heart wide open.

As they passed, Kay gave me a smug, sidelong glance.

"Johnny, who do you love the most?"

Johnny wrapped his arms around her neck, eyes sparkling. "Mama, of course!"

Then he shot me a glare and muttered, "I hate smelly beggars."

I had seen Johnny just two weeks ago. I'd given him a good-luck bracelet I'd woven myself.

He hadn't even looked at it before tossing it in the trash. Then he'd screamed at me, calling me a dirty, stinking beggar.

When others saw him sobbing and gasping for breath, crying for his mama, they assumed I was trying to kidnap him. They pinned me to the ground and beat me until Joel arrived at the police station to clear up the misunderstanding.

But I hadn't missed the disgust in Johnny's eyes that day.

He recognized me. He just refused to acknowledge me as his mother.

I smiled bitterly, crouched back down, and continued filleting the fish.

Last time I'd watched Johnny sleep, he'd murmured in his dreams about wanting sour cabbage fish.

Before long, Joel stormed into the kitchen, his face dark as a thundercloud.

He grabbed my wrist so hard that the knife sliced across the back of my hand.

I cried out. Blood dripped through my fingers and splattered onto the floor.

His grip on my wrist was crushing, like he wanted to grind the bones to dust.

"Mary! How many times do I have to tell you? Kay and I are just colleagues. Her parents aren't in the country—as her boss, is it so wrong to invite her for New Year's dinner? Why the hell did you hit her?"

I wrenched my hand free, tears spilling down my cheeks.

"It wasn't me!"

Joel's hand flew up. The slap snapped my head to the side.

"Johnny saw the whole thing!" he shouted. "You're his mother—why would he lie to help an outsider hurt you?"

Across the room, Johnny made a face at me and clutched Kay's hand tighter.

Eight years. I had carried him, given birth to him, raised him for eight years. He had never once called me "Mama." Never once come to me willingly.

But he would run into Kay's arms, cuddle up to her, let her attend parent-teacher conferences as his mother.

I let out a hollow laugh.

"Fine. It's all my fault. I'll apologize to Miss Pruitt."

I bowed deeply to Kay—ninety degrees—biting the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood, just to keep the tears from falling.

Joel stared at the blood pooling on the floor and found a bandage.

I pulled away before he could touch me and applied it myself.

Johnny muttered that this was boring and dragged Kay off to play with his toys.

Joel assumed I was sulking. His voice softened, coaxing.

"We're setting off fireworks later. I'll let you stand closer to Johnny."

Inside my pocket, my fingers tightened around the good-luck charm I'd planned to give Johnny for the new year.

I nodded.

The New Year's Eve dinner was a picture of family warmth.

Joel had arranged for me to sit closest to Johnny.

I treasured every second, trying to etch his face into my memory.

Johnny noticed my intense gaze and angrily threw down his chopsticks.

Old Mrs. Gilbert rushed to comfort him, blowing gently on his hand.

"Sweetheart, did you hurt yourself?"

Johnny burrowed into her arms and pointed at me, shrieking.

"Grandma, that beggar keeps staring at me! She's so gross I can't even eat!"

Old Mrs. Gilbert turned her disgusted gaze toward me.

I tugged my mask tighter, terrified of being recognized and thrown out. In my panic, I dropped to my knees.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I was just worried the young master might not be used to tonight's dishes."

Kay rose with a bowl of chicken soup and gently patted Johnny's head.

"We mustn't lose our temper like that. Our Johnny is a well-mannered boy, isn't he?"

Johnny huffed but kept glaring at me with pure venom.

Old Mrs. Gilbert gave Kay an approving look, then seemed to remember something and turned to Joel with a weary sigh.

"Look at Kay—graceful, cultured, educated abroad—and she's willing to be your devoted partner. Then look at that country bumpkin you dragged home. You'd be a laughingstock if anyone saw her. If she had any shame at all, would she have clung to you for ten years without so much as a title?"

Joel glanced at me instinctively.

I lowered my eyes, the hurt settling deep.

I had no idea she despised me this much.

Joel's smile faded. His voice carried a note of reproach.

"Mom, if it weren't for Mary, I might not have made it back alive."

Years ago, I'd gone hiking in the mountains and stumbled upon Joel after he'd fallen off a cliff.

I rushed him to the hospital, only to be told he had severe head trauma and might lose some of his memories.

He couldn't even remember his phone password. When I tried to take him to the police station to file a report, he clung to me and refused to let go.

In the end, I had no choice but to let him stay.

I kept my head down. Old Mrs. Gilbert swayed, so dizzy with rage she nearly collapsed.

"You're talking back to me for that woman? Do you want Kay's child to be born a bastard?!"

Kay's cheeks flushed. She hurried to soothe the old woman.

"Please don't upset yourself. It's a good thing that Joel values loyalty. I really don't mind."

The servants kept their heads bowed, not daring to witness their masters' drama.

I looked up at Joel's flustered expression, then thought of the photos Kay sent me daily—like clockwork—of them in bed together.

She'd told me Joel loved it when she acted coy. If she told him not to get up, he wouldn't dare move.

Meanwhile, Joel and I had gone from inseparable newlyweds to strangers who hadn't been intimate in over six months.

My knees—the ones I'd shattered saving Joel all those years ago—began to throb. The pain made it hard to keep kneeling.

But it was nothing compared to the agony of his betrayal. Not even a thousandth of it.

Kay wrapped herself around Joel's arm, tears streaming down her face.

"You don't want this baby, do you? If you don't want it, I'll go to the hospital right now and get rid of it."

Old Mrs. Gilbert immediately grabbed Kay's hand, clutching her head and moaning about dizziness.

"If you let her abort that child, I'll drop dead right in front of you."

After a long silence, Joel shot me a guilty glance and mouthed the words:

I'll explain when we get home.

He gave in, massaging the old woman's shoulders, his words landing like hammer blows that shattered what was left of my heart.

"Fine. Have the baby. You've got nothing better to do anyway—you can take care of it. And Johnny will have a playmate."

Kay rose on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Joel's cheek, then lowered her eyes with a shy smile.

Like the lady of the house, she ordered the servants to bring fresh dishes. Then she walked over to me, triumph glittering in her eyes.

"Why don't you go kneel outside? No point ruining everyone's evening."