For five years, I had been the wife of Cameron Smith. He made me fall for him, and when we got married, I thought I had found love. But soon, I learned the cruel truth—I resembled his late wife, and that was the only reason he wanted me. And when I thought that was the worst of it, their six-year-old son, Tyron, whom I had treated like my own, hated me and made my life miserable.

Like now.

A sharp yank on my hair sent me staggering backward, my scalp burning from Cameron’s iron grip. The sound of paper crumpling and liquid dripping onto the wooden floor filled the room.

“You useless woman!” Cameron seethed, his grip tightening as he shook me. His furious eyes darted toward the mess on his desk—his blueprints, now ruined by a spill of milk. “Do you have any idea how important those were?”

I gasped, wincing from the pain. “Cameron, I—I didn’t do it! It was Tyron! He—”

He cut me off with a snarl, his fingers finally releasing my hair only to shove me backward. I landed hard on the cold floor, pain shooting up my arm where I caught myself. The sting of an emerging bruise bloomed across my skin.

“That was your only job—to take care of Tyron,” he spat. “Yet you couldn’t even do that. You’re useless.”

I bit my lip, trying to keep the tears from spilling, but they came anyway. Cameron stood over me, looking at me like I was nothing, like I was a nuisance rather than the woman he had vowed to cherish.

“If you can’t discipline Tyron and make him listen to you, then next time, you’ll be the one locked up,” he warned, his voice dripping with ice. Then, without another glance, he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

The moment he was gone, I curled into myself, pressing my forehead against my knees as the sobs wracked my body. My shoulders trembled, my chest tightened, and for a brief second, I wished I could disappear. But before I could even gather myself, the door creaked open again.

Tyron stood there, a wicked grin stretching across his innocent-looking face.

“You deserved that,” he said, his voice laced with triumph. “You killed my mommy.”

My breath hitched, my heart twisting at his words. “Tyron, I didn’t—”

“I hate you,” he declared before I could even finish. His small fists clenched at his sides, his gaze filled with nothing but resentment.

No matter what I said, no matter how hard I tried, he would never believe me… and Cameron didn’t even once clarify the truth about Tyron’s mother.

He turned on his heel and ran around the office, knocking over books, sending papers flying. “Tyron, stop!” I called out, scrambling to my feet to chase after him.

He only laughed, dodging my grasp, his little legs carrying him faster than I could catch. In his reckless playfulness, his hand snatched at the steaming cup of coffee on the desk.

The cup tipped.

The dark liquid poured.

The searing pain burned through my skin as the scalding coffee splashed onto my arm.

A scream ripped from my throat, the agony so intense that my knees nearly buckled. My body shook from the pain, and something inside me snapped.

For years, I had tried. I had done everything to be a good mother to him, hoping—praying—that one day, he would see me as family. But now, staring at my reddened skin, listening to his laughter, I knew.

I couldn’t do this anymore.

“Enough!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the room. Tyron froze mid-step, his eyes widening in shock at the fury in my tone. My breathing was ragged, my heart pounding as I glared at him. “I am your mother now! Whether you like it or not, you will obey me!”

Tears welled up in his eyes as his lips trembled. “Daddy!” he screamed, his voice filled with terror as he turned to run.

But as he fled, his small feet slipped on the spilled coffee. His body tumbled forward, arms flailing as he crashed down the stairs.

“Tyron!” I gasped, panic flooding through me as I rushed after him.

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air. “Oh my god! Zoe just pushed Tyron!”

Nadine. Cameron’s mistress.

I spun around to see her standing at the top of the stairs. The moment the words left her mouth, I knew I was doomed.

Heavy footsteps pounded against the floor. Cameron’s towering frame appeared at the doorway. The moment his gaze landed on Tyron, sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, his rage turned on me.

“You fucking bitch!” His roar rattled the walls, and before I could react, his hands were on me, gripping my arm with bruising force.

“Cameron, I didn’t—”

His palm struck my cheek, the impact sending me reeling. I barely had time to recover before he shoved me inside my room, the door slamming shut behind me. The sharp click of the lock echoed like a death sentence.

“You will not leave there unless I say so. And if anything happens to my son, you’ll die too.” His voice was devoid of emotion, filled with nothing but cruel finality.

The sound of his retreating footsteps sent a shiver down my spine. I sank to the floor, wrapping my arms around myself as silent sobs shook my frame.

I had nothing left.

No love. No hope. No way out.

Unless…

My trembling hands reached for the phone hidden beneath my pillow. My fingers hovered over the screen before I dialed the one number I had long forced myself to forget.

It rang once.

Twice.

Then, a voice I hadn’t heard in years answered.

“Hello?”

A shaky breath escaped my lips. “I’m sorry for leaving, brother. But please, take me back. I’ll do anything… just take me back again.”

The next morning, the door creaked open, and before I could react, Cameron’s hand fisted in my hair, yanking me upright. A sharp gasp escaped my lips as pain flared across my scalp.

“Get up,” he ordered coldly. “Make breakfast and get everything ready for us. And be thankful Tyron only got bruises. If something worse had happened, you’d be dead by now.”

I winced but forced myself to look at him. “Cameron, I didn’t push him. He slipped while running.” My voice trembled, but I held firm. “You have to believe me—”

His grip tightened before he shoved me forward. I stumbled but caught myself against the bedpost.

“I don’t have to believe anything,” he spat. “You still yelled at my son. And I didn’t give you permission to do that.”

I stared at him, disbelief thick in my throat. “You never believe me,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “It’s always Nadine. No matter what I say, you’ll always believe her.”

His jaw clenched, eyes darkening with anger. “Why are you bringing up Nadine? She’s not the one at fault here.”

“Then why are you still keeping me?” I demanded, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just divorce me, Cameron. Please… just let me go.”

I dropped to my knees, my hands clutching at the hem of his shirt in desperation. “I’ll leave quietly. You don’t have to deal with me anymore—”

His fingers curled under my chin, lifting my face until I was forced to meet his gaze. A cruel smirk twisted his lips.

“No,” he said simply. “I won’t let you go.”

“Why?” I choked out. “Why are you doing this to me?”

His smirk faded, replaced by cold indifference. “You look like my wife. And you’re convenient. That’s it.”

Then he let go and stepped back, straightening his shirt as if I disgusted him. “Make sure you’re ready for Tyron’s birthday,” he added. “A lot of investors and elite guests will be there. I don’t want any chaos that day.”

He paused at the door, his gaze raking over me in disdain. “And just wear something from my late wife’s closet. Don’t embarrass me.”

With that, he left.

My whole body trembled, but I bit down on my lip, forcing myself to hold it in. Just a few more days. Right after Tyron’s birthday, I would leave and never come back. I just had to endure it a little longer.

But it was breaking me apart. Every moment, every second, was a fresh wound on my soul. And Cameron didn’t even try to hide it anymore—the way he openly slept with Nadine under the same roof, in our home, in our bed.

And the worst part? When he was done with her, he would come to me.

He would pin me down, whispering another woman’s name as he took what he wanted, breaking me over and over again.

All I could do was cry.

Later that afternoon, I stood in the kitchen, preparing lunch, my hands shaking as I chopped vegetables. I was barely holding myself together, just trying to get through the day, when suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the air.

“I hope you’re not trying to poison us.”

Nadine.

I turned to see her leaning against the counter, a smirk playing on her lips. Dressed in a silk robe—one of Cameron’s—I didn’t miss the fresh marks along her neck.

“I don’t have time for this,” I muttered, turning back to the cutting board.

But she wasn’t done. “Poor little Zoe,” she taunted. “Always so obedient. You think playing house will make you his wife? You’ll never be more than a replacement.”

I gritted my teeth, willing myself to stay silent. Just ignore her. Just get through this.

“Or maybe,” she continued, her voice lowering, “you’re starting to enjoy it. Cameron’s touch, even if he’s thinking about his wife—”

“Shut up,” I snapped, the knife in my hand clattering against the counter.

She only laughed. “Oh, did I hit a nerve? Face it, Zoe, you’re nothing but a ghost of a dead woman. Cameron doesn’t love you. And neither does Tyron.”

“Nadine!” I warned, my patience snapping.

A small gasp came from the doorway.

I turned to see Tyron standing there, his tiny fists clenched, his face red with anger.

“You bitch!” he screamed. “Don’t hurt my mother Nadine!”

Before I could react, he stormed toward me and spit at me, the warm saliva landing on my cheek.

I stood frozen, my hands trembling at my sides, my heart breaking into a million shattered pieces.

Tyron glared at me with all the hatred in his tiny body. “You don’t belong here,” he said, his voice shaking. “You’ll never be my mommy.”

I had no words left. No more strength to fight. The only thing I could do was turn away, my hands gripping the counter as silent tears rolled down my cheeks.

The day of the birthday had finally arrived.

I stood by the window, gripping my phone tightly as I whispered, “I’m ready. You can send the limousine.”

On the other end of the line, my brother exhaled heavily. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I said, voice firm. “I’ve wasted enough time here.”

For years, I had refused to go back. After our parents died in a car accident, I rebelled. I left home, determined to be independent, swearing I would never crawl back to my brother. Then, I met Cameron. I thought he was my forever. I was wrong.

I should have left sooner.

My brother’s voice softened. “You’re my sister, Zoe. No matter what happened, I’ll always take you back.” Then his tone sharpened. “And don’t worry. I’ll arrange a marriage for you. I’ll make sure that bastard regrets ever laying a finger on you.”

Before I could reply, he hung up.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. Just one more night. Then I’d be free.

The party was grand, as expected. The hall was decorated with extravagant displays, chandeliers casting golden light over the elegantly dressed guests. Waiters moved through the crowd, offering wine. The elite of the city had gathered to celebrate Tyron’s birthday, sipping champagne and exchanging empty pleasantries.

I wore one of the dresses Cameron had ordered me to wear—from his late wife’s closet. The fabric clung to my skin like a ghost, suffocating me with memories that weren’t mine.

Then, suddenly—

“You’re wearing my mom’s clothes!”

Tyron’s sharp voice cut through the party, echoing across the hall.

Heads turned. Conversations halted. A heavy silence fell over the room as all eyes landed on me.

Tyron stood at the center of it all, his face flushed with anger. His small hands clenched into fists, his eyes burning with pure hatred. “You can’t wear my mother’s clothes! I hate you! You’re not my mom!”

A murmur spread through the crowd.

“She must be a terrible stepmother.”

“How cruel… wearing the first wife’s dress in front of his son?”

“She’s trying to replace her. It’s disgusting.”

The weight of their judgment pressed down on me. But I didn’t care. Not anymore.

Then, as if on cue, Nadine stepped forward, her voice soft and soothing. “Tyron, calm down,” she said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

And just like that, Tyron quieted. His anger melted away as he let her comfort him.

More whispers.

“She’s the one who should be the mother.”

“Cameron and Nadine would make a better couple. That woman doesn’t belong.”

I barely heard them. My body felt numb. I was so, so tired. I didn’t even care anymore. I just wanted to leave.

Then Cameron appeared.

With that ever-present fake warmth, he crouched in front of Tyron and gently said, “Son, apologize to your mother. She’d taken care of you for years. She is your mother.”

Tyron shook his head violently. “No! She killed my mom! She’s evil!”

Another wave of murmurs.

I stood frozen, my nails digging into my palms.

I was done.

Without another word, I turned and walked out of the hall.

The whispers followed me, but I didn’t stop. The air outside was cold against my burning skin, but I welcomed it. Anything was better than staying in that suffocating room.

Then—footsteps.

A hand grabbed my wrist, yanking me to a stop.

Cameron.

His eyes blazed with anger as he hissed, “What was that? Why would you walk out on me?”

For a split second, my mind betrayed me—flashing back to a time when he wasn’t this cold, ruthless man.

I remembered the way he used to look at me, his eyes filled with warmth instead of resentment. The late-night drives when we talked about dreams, the mornings when he’d pull me into his arms and whisper promises against my skin. I remembered the man who once kissed my bruised knuckles after I burned myself in the kitchen, murmuring, “Be careful, love. I can’t stand seeing you hurt.”

That man was long gone.

Instead of answering, I reached into my bag, pulled out the stack of papers I had finalized the night before, and threw them into his chest.

“Let’s divorce,” I said coldly. “Whether you like it or not.”