It would be a lie to say I had no complaints. Still, for the sake of earning my mother-in-law’s approval, I swallowed every grievance, crushing each one deep into the corners of my heart.

Three long years. I endured, hoping my patience would soften her sharp edges.

Instead, my silence only gave her more opportunities to wound me.

As I stared at the photos of them, all smiles and affection, there was no surge of jealousy, no ache of heartbreak that used to twist my chest. I felt… nothing. Just a hollow, numbing void.

“Bullshit! I don’t have a terminal illness. All these restrictions, what’s the difference between this and dying?”

A voice suddenly snapped through my haze. A girl with a crutch hobbled over, muttering curses under her breath as she dropped onto the far end of the bench.

“Am I supposed to freak out just because tomorrow’s the end of the world? Hell no! If anything, I’m going to live it up. There’s no time to waste anymore. Go wild, or what’s the point?”

Her words rattled through my mind like a storm. A sharp pain shot through my head, then silence. And then, as quickly as it struck, clarity swept in, sharpening everything around me.

Right, I was almost dead. Why did I care about anything else?

Was I really going to let my life end like this—swallowing my pride and fading into nothingness?

No. I couldn’t accept that. I wouldn’t.

Gripping my phone, I typed a message to her, my fingers moving with an unfamiliar boldness.

I told her everything, that Clyde and Milana were having an affair and that she, proud as she was of her son’s infidelity, was no better. A shameless pair, the lot of them.

What a collection of lowlifes.

I was dying anyway. Why should I care about consequences?

Before I could second-guess myself, I hit send, then blocked her number. If she wanted to spew more venom, she’d have to find someone else. She wasn’t ruining another second of my life.

I decided right then to make a change. My first stop? The mall.

Standing outside a clothing store, I caught my reflection in the glass. The sight made me pause. My thin, pale face stared back at me, framed by dull, lifeless hair. The cheap black coat I wore only made me look more like a shadow of who I used to be.

Three years. In just three years, I had withered into someone I barely recognized, an old, defeated version of myself.

The realization hit me hard and before I could stop myself, I slapped my cheeks a few times, the sharp sting grounding me.

“Enough,” I whispered to my reflection.

Without hesitation, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

It was a high-end boutique, the kind that exuded luxury from every corner. As soon as I stepped in, the staff's eyes flicked over my shabby coat and pale face, their expressions dripping with disdain.

She trailed behind me, her presence suffocating. Just as I stopped in front of a stunning red dress, her loud, disdainful click of the tongue broke the silence.

“No money and yet here you are, gawking at clothes. Do you even realize how ridiculous you look?”

I froze. Slowly, I turned to face her, my eyes narrowing as fury coursed through me. “What did you just say? Your mouth reeks, did you just get back from dining on shit in the bathroom?”

Her face drained of color, her confidence crumbling. “How dare you speak to me like that?” she stammered.

“I should be asking you that. Did I ever say I couldn’t afford these clothes?”

Before she could respond, the sound of heels clicking against the floor interrupted us. A woman approached, elegantly dressed, perfectly poised and radiating an air of superiority. She looked to be in her thirties, her every movement exuding confidence and control.

“Didn’t the staff say something wrong? With your shabby appearance, how dare you even step into this store?”

“Excuse me, auntie, you’re quite amusing. I’ve heard of customers complaining about bad service, but this is the first time I’ve seen a store trying to chase away potential clients. By the way, is this your shop? Does the owner know they’re at risk of losing a major customer?”

Her face flushed with anger. “Auntie? Who are you calling Auntie? And you? A major client? How dare you!”

The staff burst into laughter, failing miserably to stifle their amusement.

I turned to the nearest staff member, my voice calm but firm. “Call your manager.”

They ignored me, their laughter grating on my nerves.

I snapped, my voice rising. “Call your manager! Didn’t you hear me? Are you deaf?”

The woman took a cautious step back, eyeing me warily. “Are you… sick or something? Why are you yelling like that?”

“Yeah, I’m sick. Terminally ill, in fact. So let me warn you, don’t mess with me!”

The manager arrived swiftly and after understanding the situation, he quickly reprimanded the staff and offered a sincere apology.

The staff, however, wore an expression of clear displeasure, unwilling to accept the reprimand.

“Pack up your most expensive clothes,” I said, pulling out the black card I always carried with me.

This card, Clyde had given it to me. While he had been frugal with his affections, his generosity with money knew no bounds.

The manager’s face lit up. “Of course, I’ll arrange that for you right away.”

But before he could move, the woman at the checkout muttered, “Who knows if the money on that card is even clean.”

Without hesitation, I grabbed the red dress she had been eyeing earlier. “This one,” I declared.

Ignoring her irritable glare, I turned to the manager. I continued, “Evans Group if I’m not mistaken, this store belongs to them, doesn’t it?”

Smiling, I added, “As the young madam of the Evans Family, surely I’m entitled to a little shopping privilege?”

I slid a photo from my wallet, showing the wedding photo of Clyde and me.

In Kansas City, who didn’t know the Evans Family?

The manager, the woman and the staff stood frozen, momentarily struck dumb.

“So, you’re the young madam of the Evans Family?” The manager’s tone shifted instantly, dripping with newfound respect.

The woman, her face drained of color, shot me a guilty look before hastily retreating.

Before she could vanish from sight, I subtly hinted to the manager, “If one employee’s poor service could tarnish the reputation of the entire brand, then…”

The manager didn’t miss a beat. “Rest assured, young madam, such staff will never show their faces here again.”

With my heavy shopping bags in hand, a rare sense of satisfaction washed over me.

When it came to wealth and power, no one compared to the Evans Family.

If I didn’t wield it wisely, what would be the point of such a prestigious name?

By the time I reached home, the clock had long passed midnight.

As I opened the door, I was met with the sudden sting of a slap to my face.

My mother-in-law angrily snatched the clothes I’d bought from the mall, hurling them onto the floor as if they were trash.

“Well, well, Maeve, not only did you stay out late tonight, but you also spent my son’s money so carelessly. Looks like you’ve picked up a few tricks!”

She swung her hand at me in anger, but I blocked it with ease. Her eyes widened in shock and she screeched, “Maeve, what are you doing?!”

I pushed her hand away, treating it like an unwanted object. “What? Didn’t do anything, did I?”

Before I could move, a sharp voice interrupted. “Maeve, how dare you strike Auntie? Clyde won’t forgive you for this!”

Milana stepped in front of my mother-in-law, shielding her as if I were a venomous snake poised to strike.

I touched the stinging red mark on my cheek, smirking. “So innocent, huh? You two were pretty fierce when it was your turn.”

My mother-in-law seethed. “What’s come over you today? What did that message mean? How dare you speak to elders like that?”

Milana didn’t hold back. “Maeve, you’ve crossed the line. As a woman, how can you say such things?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle darkly. “Let me ask you two what that really means. One of you sends a picture of her son dining with another woman to his wife and the other barges into someone’s home in the dead of night to play the role of detective.”

“Isn’t this what you call living without a family? Or is being a mistress really that delightful?”

“And as for elders, do you truly deserve that title?”

Both of their faces darkened in an instant and they were struck dumb, unable to respond.

“You...” Milana’s expression shifted suddenly and she looked as though she might burst into tears. “You’re going too far.”

Her voice quivered, almost like she expected sympathy.

Sure enough, it worked.

“Maeve, enough! Shut up!”

I turned my head and there he was, Clyde’s face a storm of fury.

He marched over, standing beside Milana and my mother-in-law, his voice a thunderclap, “What the hell are you doing? I didn’t go to the hospital, so why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“Apologize to them. Right now.”

Milana, ever the actress, suddenly slipped into the role of the innocent, “It’s fine, Clyde. Maeve might just be in a bad mood. I don’t mind, but I can’t stand hearing people talk about Aunt like that.”

My mother-in-law, once sharp and venomous, now appeared the picture of hurt, as if deeply wounded by her child, “I never thought that Maeve would see me this way.”

She quietly wiped away imaginary tears.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Clyde’s face darkened further. “Maeve, what’s your problem? Apologize now.”

I threw my head back and laughed until my sides ached. “Why should I apologize? The fact that I didn’t make you kneel and beg for forgiveness is already generous. And now you’re all playing this act?”

"Fireworks for the mistress on our anniversary, photos of you and your lover sharing a meal sent straight to my phone and then, the audacity of the mistress barging into my home in the middle of the night, stepping on my head as if she were the legitimate wife."

"Fireworks for the mistress is 'romantic,' but when I buy a few clothes and dress up, I’m labeled as wasteful, extravagant and get slapped for it. And you, my husband, don’t even care about the truth, demanding that I apologize instead."

I fixed my gaze on him, "Clyde, who exactly owes an apology here?"

For the first time, I saw Clyde taken aback, frozen by the strength of my words.

"I’m speaking nothing but the truth. If there’s a single lie in my words, feel free to contradict me at any time," I added, my voice unwavering.

Clyde looked at me, his expression torn, "What’s happened to you? You never used to be like this."

I scoffed, "Used to be? You mean the version of me that stayed quiet while being wronged, when you stayed away for days, leaving me in silence? The one who fell ill yet had to do all the dirty, exhausting work, like a helpless target, Maeve, the pushover?"

At that, Clyde was struck speechless.

My mother-in-law’s voice sliced through the tension, "You’re the one who insisted on marrying Clyde, so all the suffering you’ve endured, you brought it upon yourself!"

Brought it upon myself?

Back then, everyone had believed I was the mistress who seduced Clyde, the one who ruined the relationship between him and Milana. But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

The first time I met Clyde was in a dimly lit bar where I worked as a waitress to pay for my tuition.

That night, a customer harassed me, insisting that I join him for drinks. It was Clyde who stepped in, saving me from that man. Afterward, he told me I had the kind of looks he liked and that he wanted to pursue me.

I turned him down.

But from that day forward, he came to the bar every night, offering his help, solving my problems and showering me with care as no one had ever done before.

No one had ever protected me like that. And after a month of his relentless pursuit, I finally agreed to be with him.

During that time, Clyde treated me like I was the center of his world and for a while, I believed it was true. I, Maeve, unknowingly fell deeper into his web, convinced that his affection was real.

When I married Clyde and faced the struggles that followed, I told myself there had to be a reason to endure.

But then, one day, I overheard a conversation between Clyde and his friends that shattered everything.