My Husband felt sorry for the maternity nurse and made me wash the dishes.

Later, after I divorced and became a makeup apprentice, I ended up doing the maternity nurse's bridal makeup.

The two of them gloated, "You only make this little money. How can you even think about getting custody of your son? He's already calling me Mom now."

Later, to earn more money, I became a mortuary cosmetologist.

Coincidentally, I also ended up doing their makeup.

...

After finishing dinner, Chloe Hughes pushed away her bowl and went off to tend to the baby.

My husband belched after being the last to finish eating. He told me to clean up the leftover food and make sure to wash the dishes clean.

I couldn't contain my anger.

I said, "Why should I wash the dishes? You didn't have to give birth to the child or have to earn money. Now that it's time for postpartum confinement, are you planning to do it for me?"

He pointed at me, saying that I had only given birth to a child and shouldn't expect to be the ruler of the house.

We had spent a lot of money hiring a maternity nurse to take care of the baby, while I just lay in bed all day doing nothing.

In the evening, I wasn't even willing to digest my food and wash the dishes. He said he could now see my true colors.

I was so angry that I directly flipped over the table with the leftover food and dishes.

Declan Woods pinned me to the ground, warning me that if I didn't clean up the mess on the floor tonight, I wouldn't be allowed to sleep.

A broken plate cut my hand as I struggled, but I wasn't as strong as him.

Blood mixed with the cold dishwater flowed over my hand, bringing a piercing pain.

I cried as I wiped my tears.

Chloe had walked up behind me at some point.

Sobbing, I asked her, "Chloe, is this the essence of marriage? Fighting all the time? Being forced into stupid logic, compelled to be on the same wavelength as him?"

I thought Chloe, being a woman herself, would sympathize with me.

Unexpectedly, she held my son and sighed.

He said, "If it were me, I wouldn't tolerate it, but you have to endure it because you don't earn money. You're reaching for the stars. You have a son to take care of, and if you get divorced, looking as miserable as you do now, who else would want you?"

Her words made me develop a fever in the middle of the night, and mastitis made even my teeth swell up.

In the mirror, I was unrecognizable.

I tugged at Declan's wrist to wake him up and take me to the hospital.

But the startled Declan gave me a harsh slap.

He snapped, "What are you yelling for?"

I didn't dare take medication for fear of affecting breastfeeding.

I lay awake crying until dawn, only to see Chloe using my makeup to powder her face.

Seeing me rise silently, she was startled.

Then, looking at my face, she was even more shocked.

Covering her mouth, she could barely hold back her laughter.

She said, "Why is your face so swollen? Didn't you say you used to be a makeup artist? Looks like your foundation wasn't good. That's why you worked so hard to learn makeup."

Seeing that I didn't respond, she became even more aggressive.

She put all my cosmetics into her own makeup bag and casually sprayed some perfume.

She said, "I see you won't be using these, and they're about to expire. I might as well use them."

I was in so much pain that I just wanted to go to the hospital immediately.

The pungent smell of her perfume gave me a headache.

Although I was resentful, I was still afraid of offending her, fearing she might mistreat my son.

I could only advise her, "Aren't maternity nurses not supposed to wear makeup or use strong-smelling things? Why don't you put it on when you go home?"

She sneered, "He's so small. How can he smell anything? I think you're just jealous of me."

She snatched away the baby and added, "If you're sick, go get treated."

Looking at the makeup bag she had left there, I opened it and dumped it into the trash can.

Hearing the noise, she rushed back.

She shouted, "You crazy woman, what are you doing? These are all branded items. You probably haven't even seen them before."

Her hand kept fishing in the toilet, opening the eyeshadow, which had already melted into water.

Furious, she threw it directly at me.

She snapped, "You're going to pay for this. These are all brand-name products. You're just jealous of me. That's why you threw all my things into the toilet."

She threw everything from my bathroom onto the floor.

Finally, she stomped on them a few times.

She coldly said she'd teach me a lesson.

I sat on the toilet floor that looked like a paint palette, feeling my burning forehead, and called the agency to complain.

I said, "Yes, terminate the contract. Let her leave now."

The sound of our two arguing finally woke up my husband.

He frowned and asked what I was making a fuss about again.

Chloe's voice dropped, saying that I was jealous of her using good cosmetics, so I threw everything into the toilet.

She suspected that I had developed postpartum depression.

The irritated Declan grabbed my hair and dragged me to the bathroom, shoving my face against the mirror. He told me to look at how crazy I looked now.

He said I was just jealous that she earned more money.

Chloe stood behind him, looking smug.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Chloe went to open the door.

She probably thought it was her daily gossip buddy, my mother-in-law.

She stuttered, "Supervisor?

"Why are you here?"

Chloe instinctively took a step back.

Then she hid her wrists behind her back.

But the strong perfume smell was choking.

The supervisor of the housekeeping center grabbed Chloe's hand and sniffed it.

Then her face darkened.

She demanded, "Chloe, apologize to the client."

I threw a pack of wet wipes to the supervisor, coldly eyeing Chloe.

The supervisor wanted to wipe, but as soon as she got close to Chloe's face, Chloe stepped back.

She screamed, saying it was a violation of her rights as a worker and that she could report it to the police.

Declan came forward to intervene, saying this was just a small friction between us.

He said, "My wife doesn't understand. It's not just Chloe's fault."

I looked at him coldly.

I said, "Since that's the case, why don't you pay her salary? She worked for one day in total, and the fee is one thousand dollars."

"One thousand?"

Declan's eyes widened as he held up one finger.

He knew maternity nurses were expensive, but he didn't expect them to be this expensive.

Unable to speak clearly, he questioned me, "You gave birth to the child and hired the maternity nurse, but you want me to pay? I won't pay. I didn't even get to enjoy her services."

He sat far away.

His face was full of anger.

Chloe's eyes were filled with tears, her face red from being wiped with tissues.

The supervisor held the tissue, apologizing to me.

She said their management was not strict enough, they would deal with this seriously, and we didn't need to pay for the service.

Hearing that he didn't have to pay, Declan became smug.

He kept praising Chloe, saying she did a good job, the food she cooked was delicious, and she cleaned well.

His words embarrassed the supervisor.

Finally, she asked me, "Was the postpartum meal prepared by Chloe to your liking?"

I muttered, "Postpartum meal?"

If last night's beef with chili and soup counted...

Declan answered, "The beef was so delicious, even better than what my mom makes."

His words further embarrassed the supervisor.

She told us that the company would fire Chloe and blacklist her across the industry.

A maternity nurse of this quality couldn't remain in the profession.

I wholeheartedly agreed.

Letting her go on to harm other new mothers would be a great misfortune.

Chloe was sobbing.

When she heard she could no longer do this job that earned her so much money, she pointed at the cosmetics in the bathroom, saying I had smashed several tens of thousands worth of her makeup.

She wanted to call the police for compensation.

"Well..."

The supervisor obviously hadn't dealt with such a situation before.

"Call the police. Do it," I said.

I closed the bathroom door behind me.

"Don't wipe out the fingerprints."