The day Madeline moved in, everything changed. Loud, sudden, and sharp, like a storm tearing through everything I once touched.

The first thing she did was to order the maids to redecorate the entire villa.

Every wall and every curtain, except my room.

She didn't touch that. Maybe out of pity. Or maybe she just didn't care enough.

I watched it all happen in silence.

The housekeeper, who used to talk down to me like I was a stray, suddenly became her lapdog. His voice was sugar-sweet now.

"Yes, Ms. Brooks."

"Of course, Ms. Brooks."

"I'll handle it right away, Ms. Brooks."

And Finn just stood behind her the whole time. Cold. Quiet. Watching.

"All of it," he said, nodding once. "Do whatever Madeline wants."

That's all.

My peaceful morning was shattered, along with whatever little peace I'd tried to keep for myself.

When I stepped out of my room and looked over the second-floor railing, I saw them downstairs: Finn, Madeline, the maids, the furniture movers. I didn't say a word.

But Finn… he looked up. Met my eyes.

And for a moment, I saw something in his stare.

Complication. Like I was a problem he didn't want to solve.

I held his gaze, expressionless, then turned away.

"Madeline!" Henry's voice suddenly rang out, breaking the silence. He ran up to her like a puppy, tugging at her sleeve. "Can we get rid of this sofa? Jillian picked it out. I always hated it!"

Madeline laughed lightly and brushed his hair back.

"Of course, sweetheart," she said. "If you don't like it, we'll change it. You get the final say now."

I watched as the movers dragged it away.

They had no idea how many hours I spent tracking down the exact fabric, sourced from a specialty factory that only made hypoallergenic materials.

Henry had sensitive skin. Always sneezing, itching, reacting to dust and bacteria. That sofa was my way of protecting him.

But sure. Toss it. Like it meant nothing.

It was just one more little piece of myself being thrown away.

But I didn't stop them.

I'd already given them everything. My heart, my pride, my years.

And in my last life, I nearly gave them my life.

The next morning, the villa looked like a different house.

Brighter. Louder. Alive.

Henry's voice echoed down the halls, laughing, shouting, chattering about school.

Finn's low voice followed, gentle and teasing. "Don't run around too much, Madeline. Just sit with me for a bit."

Everywhere I went, I heard their voices.

The maids, now beaming as they greeted her: "Good morning, Ms. Brooks." "Your dress looks lovely today, Ms. Brooks."

And at night…things felt off.

I expected to hear those shameless moans coming from Finn's room. But when I walked past once and couldn't help peeking in, I realized Madeline wasn't sleeping in the same room as him.

What was even stranger? One stormy night, I actually caught Madeline trying to convince Finn to sleep with her. And he turned her down, in the gentlest way possible.

Maybe he was just waiting until I was truly gone before giving in. Or maybe it never had anything to do with me in the first place.

What a considerate, gentle mafia man…

Pity that his tenderness was reserved for Madeline alone.

One afternoon, I tried to escape to the garden, my last little corner of quiet.

But even there, I wasn't safe.

I heard whispers from two maids near the rose bushes.

"Mr. Gallagher treats Ms. Brooks like royalty," one of them giggled.

"Yeah," the other sighed. "He never looked at Mrs. Gallagher like that."

"I feel bad for her," the first one added. "Even Henry's calling Madeline Mom now."

"Think he's gonna kick her out soon?"

"Oh definitely. Let's bet on how long she lasts."

I smiled bitterly and whispered under my breath, "Don't waste your money. You'll all lose."

They didn't know. I was already divorced.

Back in my room, I sat by the window, waiting for my lawyer's call.

The property division was complicated. Finn's assets could take weeks to sort out. Maybe longer.

But what really bothered me was how quiet the house had become again.

They were gone. For days. No voices. No laughter. No orders being barked.

Then I found out why.

They were at Henry's school camping trip.

Finn. Madeline. Henry.

The happy little family package.

And Madeline made sure I'd see the photos and videos.

One video hit me the hardest.

In the video, Henry stood beside Madeline, grinning wide. A classmate asked him, "Hey, Henry, where's your mom? And who is this lady? She's so pretty!"

"You mean that maid who used to pick me up before?" he said. "Oh, you mistook for it. And this is my mom!"

The other kid laughed. "Whoa, you're so lucky! Your mom and dad are both so good-looking. They look perfect together!"

Perfect together.

I held the phone tight. My hands shook.

"Maid," huh?

I got up slowly and walked to the kitchen. Reached for a glass of water.

The glass slipped from my hand. Shattered on the floor.

I squatted to pick up the shards, my hands trembling. I didn't even feel the sharp edge that cut my palm. I just… broke.

I sat there, on the cold tile floor, surrounded by broken glass. And I cried.

Not for Finn. Not for Henry.

Not even for Madeline.

I cried for the woman I used to be.

The one who thought love could be earned with enough loyalty. Enough sacrifice. Enough pain.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and whispered to myself,

"It's okay. The maid is leaving soon anyway."

I was in the laundry room that afternoon, ironing one of Henry's shirts.

It was a pale blue button-down, the kind he wore when Madeline took him out to some "important" family dinner, pretending like I didn't exist.

The iron hissed against the cotton, smooth and rhythmic.

That sound had become the closest thing to peace I had in this house.

Until the door slammed open.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Henry's voice came sharp and loud, his sneakers stomping all over my quiet.

I didn't turn. "Ironing your shirt."

"That one?" he asked, stepping closer. "That's my favorite! Madeline got it for me."

I nodded, pressing the last corner. "Yeah, I figured. You left it crumpled on the floor."

He huffed. "Well, don't screw it up."

I was about to answer when he suddenly reached for the board, trying to grab the shirt while I was still ironing.

The iron slipped. My hand twitched. Before I could stop it, the edge of the iron caught the fabric, and in a blink, a dark, ugly burn bloomed across the chest of the shirt.

Crisp cotton turned black.

I froze.

Henry screamed, "What the heck?! So now you're taking it out on me? You're jealous, aren't you? You're mad 'cause Dad and I only care about Madeline!"

I turned away, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness in my chest.

But Henry didn’t stop.

"Well, you need to get over it! If you were nicer to me, maybe Dad would still let you stay in the house. But now..." He smirked. "Now I'm not so sure."

I let out a dry chuckle.

"You really do know how to talk like your dad."

I took a breath, set the iron upright, then calmly lifted the ruined shirt off the board.

"It's ruined," I said simply.

I walked past him, over to the trash, and dropped the shirt in..

Henry shrieked. "Are you insane?! That was from Madeline! That's the nicest thing anyone's ever given me!"

I turned to him, keeping my voice level. "It was just a shirt, Henry."

He lost it. His face turned red, fists clenched at his sides. "You did that on purpose! You're just jealous of Madeline! You always ruin everything!"

Before I could even react, he shoved me.

I stumbled backward hard; my back smacked into the hallway wall with a loud thud.

Pain exploded through my shoulder.

As I lost my balance, I felt the floor disappear from under my feet.

And I tumbled halfway down before a pair of arms caught me. Strong, steady.

Finn.

He'd come through the front door just in time to see me fall.

He grabbed me before I hit the last step, pulling me into his chest.

I was shaking, not from the fall, but from the heat of everything.

But before I could say a word, Finn's face twisted into anger, not at Henry.

At me.

He snapped. "What were you thinking, Jillian?"

"You nearly scared Henry to death!"

Henry came running down the steps behind us.

Crocodile tears already in place. "Dad, she was being crazy! She ruined my shirt on purpose, Madeline gave me that. And then she screamed at me and ran down the stairs! I tried to stop her!"

I turned to Finn, my voice trembling but cold. "He pushed me."

Finn didn't even flinch. "You must've said something to provoke him."

I laughed, dry and broken. "Of course. Because it's always my fault, isn't it?"

I smiled through the tears that wouldn't stop falling. My voice was soft.

"You know what? I'm done." I paused, breathing shakily. "You three want to be a happy little family? Go ahead. I won't stand in your way anymore."

I pulled away from his arms and stepped back, putting distance between us.

Finn frowned, taking a step forward, but I kept going.

"I'm just the outsider, right? Always have been. So I'll make it easier for everyone. I'll move out. I'm leaving."

His eyes widened. "You what?"

"You heard me." My voice didn't rise; it just trembled. "I give up. I surrender. I'm out of this... whatever this is. I won't come back. Ever. Is that what you wanted?"

Finn let out a careless laugh, like he didn't believe a word I said.

"Come on," he said, "Don't be ridiculous. Anyone on the street could tell you that Jillian, the mafia boss's wife, is hopelessly in love with me. You've heard of a princess leaving her prince in a fairy tale? No? Exactly."

"I'm not your princess, Finn."

My voice broke a little, but I held his gaze. "And you'll get to see with your own eyes, just how far I can walk away from you."

Then I turned and left.

For a second, Finn didn't move.

His fists clenched, as if trying to hold on to something already slipping through his fingers.