Martha's POV

The words had barely left my mouth when an ashtray came flying at me, striking my forehead with force. Blood spilled out instantly, and everything around me blurred.

The world spun, and I almost lost consciousness.

Meanwhile, Randall stood there, glaring at me, his anger written all over his face.

“What nonsense are you spouting? There’s nothing between Paula and me. Stop letting your filthy thoughts cloud your judgment! I bet you’re just trying to avoid paying your share, so you’re making up lies!”

I looked at him coldly. “I’m just a stay-at-home wife. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money? But the inheritance my mom left me? I invested all of it in your company. You’ve made a lot from it, haven’t you? You always said once the time was right, you’d give it to me. Thirty-five years have passed. When exactly are you going to give it to me so I can pay you back?”

Randall froze, caught off guard for a moment. But it wasn’t long before he sneered, dismissing me as if I were nothing.

"You want your money back, seriously?" If it weren’t for me, you would’ve never found the person who caused the accident. I'm supporting you. That money was simply repayment for my kindness!”

Watching him stand there so self-righteous, I felt my heart tear apart. My mom’s face before her death flashed in my mind, reluctant and full of grief.

It was laughable.

I had once sworn to avenge her.

And now, 35 years later, I'd missed the real bad guy and spent years working for the guy who helped him.

If my mom could see this from above, she would probably cry at my foolishness.

I swallowed my anger, my voice trembling as I spoke. “If you won’t give it to me, then we’ll divorce. I’m not asking for much. Just give me the necklace you gave Paula today.”

Randall tensed up, his face darkening as he prepared to lash out at me. But before he could, Ozzie burst out of the room. He rammed into my stomach, causing me to lose my balance and fall backward onto the floor with a loud thud.

“You’re nothing but a pig! How dare you try to steal from Auntie Paula? A pig like you doesn’t deserve such an expensive necklace!”

My grandson’s small face twisted with disgust, as though I were some plague.

But when he was young, he used to stick to me, sweetly saying, “Grandma, you’re my favorite. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. No jewel or treasure can compare to you!”

Jenna, who had been silent until now, finally pulled Ozzie to her side.

Her voice was laced with sarcasm as she said, “Ozzie, how can you push your grandma like that? She’s so good at manipulating people. What if she says you pushed her and demands a necklace as expensive as Aunt Paula’s?”

When Ozzie heard that, his disdain deepened.

He tried to keep insulting me, but then Randall said, “Paula invited us to watch the fireworks.”

Suddenly, Ozzie’s demeanor changed. His frown melted away, replaced by a grin. He eagerly said he wanted to go.

"Oh, come on, Mom!" Delbert's son said, his tone sharp. "We can't disappoint Aunt Paula's kindness."

Jenna, my daughter-in-law, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we need to be grateful. She’s been so generous."

Even Randall’s long, indifferent face lit up with a boyish joy, as if he were a young man about to go on a date with his sweetheart.

None of them even glanced in my direction.

As they passed by, Ozzie intentionally stepped on my toe, stuck his tongue out at me, and then walked away.

I forced a smile, but it was thick with bitterness.

Once they left, I slumped onto the sofa, feeling out of place. It was then that I noticed the medicine bag I had prepared for Delbert, lying discarded in the trash.

When Delbert was younger, he contracted a rare disease that no doctor could cure.

Eventually, I had learned this technique from an old healer in the Southwest, someone from New Mexico. He appeared to believe he no longer needed the medicine I made for him, which is why he threw it away so carelessly.

But he was wrong.

Although the disease had been cured, it could still relapse. Delbert needed to take my medicine continuously for five years to stay healthy.

In the future, he would regret this decision.

After all, in just a week, I would be gone for good.

And no one would be there to treat him anymore.

Martha's POV

The moment Randall and the others left, the silence in the villa was deafening.

It felt like the weight of everything was pressing down on me. I took a deep breath, tending to the wound on my forehead, and quickly posted an ad on my phone to find a private investigator.

Just then, I saw Paula’s post on social media. She shared a picture of herself leaning against a man, her head slightly tilted as she watched fireworks. Although his face was obscured, I recognized him immediately. It was Randall. Standing beside them were Delbert and his family.

The image radiated warmth and love.

If Randall weren’t my husband, and if I hadn’t raised Delbert and my grandson Ozzie I might’ve believed it, too. But as I stood there, watching, a wave of bitterness washed over me.

I snapped out of my thoughts when my phone buzzed. It was a message from a well-known private investigator in town. He was eager to take on my case, so I arranged to meet him the next day to discuss the details.

That night, Randall and the others never came back.

Strangely, despite everything that had happened, I slept more soundly than I had in a long time.

The next morning, I met the investigator at a local café.

As soon as I stepped inside, a young man waved to me from the corner. I guessed he was the investigator, and when I asked, I was right.

I told him about the situation—the car accident caused by Paula thirty-five years ago that killed my mom. I asked him to collect evidence against her so I could sue her for her part in my mom’s death.

He listened carefully and replied confidently, “Don’t worry, Ma'am. I’ll have all the evidence you need within seven days. The guilty will face justice.”

After our conversation, he left quickly, but I was about to follow when I heard a familiar voice.

“Martha, what a coincidence. You’re here too.”

I turned to see Paula standing behind me, her smile full of mockery.

Right behind her was Randall, the man who hadn’t come home last night. He was holding her bag and draping her coat over her shoulders, playing the part of the devoted husband.

But in the thirty-five years we’d been married, Randall had never once treated me like that.

I remembered a time when we went shopping for household goods, and I had too many things in my hands.

I asked him to carry my bag, and he scowled at me, saying, “I’m a man! How can I touch your things? People will think I’m weak.”

Another time, I was overwhelmed with things, tripped on the street, and fell. Not only did Randall refuse to help me up, but he also deliberately stayed far away.

When I confronted him, he looked at me like I was an idiot and said, “I’m the richest man in the world, and look at you—shabby and clumsy. If anyone knew we were married, they’d laugh at me.”

But now, with the woman he loved, all those 'rules' had gone out the window.

A sharp pain gripped my chest as the overwhelming weight of everything hit me. I just didn’t want to face them anymore.

I stood up to leave, but Paula grabbed my arm, pulling me back.

“Martha, I’m talking to you. Why are you pretending you can’t hear me? Do you really hate me that much?”

I looked at her, disgusted, and shoved her away. “At least you know I don’t like you. So get away from me.”

I turned to walk away, but in the next instant, Paula grabbed a coffee cup from the table and threw it all over herself.

The coffee spilled across her beige coat, creating a large stain.

She glared at me, angry and hurt.

“Martha, I know you don’t like me, but I’ve never done anything to hurt you. Why would you throw coffee on my clothes? This coat was a gift from my mom for my birthday!”

Paula was a master of drama, always playing the victim. It was no surprise. She was just like her mother—born of a mistress, raised to perform.

Randall, completely oblivious to the scene unfolding, walked right up to me and shoved me aside. His voice was cold and demanding, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

“Martha, what the hell is wrong with you? Apologize to Paula. Right now.”

The force of his push slammed my lower back into the corner of the table. Pain shot through me, leaving me trembling.

I lifted my gaze, meeting his fiery eyes. He looked like he wanted to tear me apart if I refused.

Through clenched teeth, I asked, “Randall, who exactly is your wife?”

Sneering, Randall retorted, “Don’t try to play the wife card with me! I saw everything. You’re the one who threw the coffee at Paula. Don’t think just because she’s innocent and kind that you can bully her. Apologize right now!”

Randall’s voice was harsh, commanding. His words pierced through me.

I stared at the man I’d loved for thirty-five years, and my heart shattered.

Unable to hold back any longer, I grabbed another coffee cup from the table and threw it straight at his face.

“Looks like your eyesight’s failing you. Let me help you clean up. And this... this is what throwing is really like.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the café.

Once outside, I went straight to my lawyer's office.

The moment I stepped in, I demanded a divorce agreement.

I couldn’t bear to be married to Randall for even another second.

But then, his following words doused me like ice water.

"I’m sorry, Ma'am. According to the records, the man you called your husband divorced you thirty years ago... and he remarried. His current wife is Paula Stone."

Martha's POV

My lawyer's words hit me like a bolt from the blue, leaving me completely stunned.

I could hardly wrap my mind around what I had just heard.

My body was frozen in place as I turned to him for confirmation.

In disbelief, I stammered, "Is that true? Could there be some mistake?"

Sensing my breakdown, he gave me a sympathetic glance.

He turned his computer screen toward me, pointing to the section marked [Spouse].

There she was, clear as day—Paula.

I blinked in disbelief.

All these years, I’d assumed they were secretly meeting, but I never imagined they had been married for thirty years.

Meanwhile, here I was, the one without a name, the real other woman.

Then what did my decades of sacrifice really mean? What had I been working toward?

It felt like a thousand tiny ants were gnawing at my heart, the sharp pain slicing through me as I struggled to hold myself together.

They were nothing but animals.

The only thing on my mind was to go home. I needed to pack everything and leave. This house and this life had all become a suffocating black hole.

I hurried back to the house.

The door creaked as I stepped inside, and immediately, I was hit by the sight of the living room in utter disarray.

Delbert and Jenna had invited their colleagues over for a party.

The whole downstairs was messy, filled with empty bottles and snack wrappers. The kitchen—cleaned only yesterday—was now cluttered with dirty dishes. Leftover food remained on the table, untouched, as no one had tidied up.

I could feel my blood boiling as I stared at the scene.

Delbert, sitting with his colleagues in front of the TV, glanced over and lazily commanded, “Mom, you're back? Clean up the house, will you? It’s a mess. We’re singing karaoke later, and you’ll need to grab some snacks for us.”

His tone was so inherently commanding that it made my fists tighten. I almost felt like slapping him right then and there. However, I restrained myself, ignoring him as I turned to go upstairs and pack.

I gathered everything I could—clothes, personal items, and the savings I had worked so hard to save over the years. I packed up every household item and gift I had bought for Randall, Delbert, and Ozzie, and threw them out with the rest of the trash.

If they didn’t see me as family, they didn’t deserve anything that belonged to me.

Just then, Randall came home. He stopped short at the sight, frowning.

“These are still useful,” he said. “Why did you throw them out?”

I met his gaze coldly. “No reason. If you need it, buy new ones.”

Randall seemed confused, not realizing I was no longer playing by his rules. He thought I was still going to buy the items. His face softened just a little.

“Well, you can pay for it yourself. I’m not helping anymore. Although I’m the one who provided for this house, saving money is a virtue.”

I didn’t answer him. I turned and walked toward the door to grab my suitcase.

But before I could leave, Randall stopped me again. “I’m taking Paula to a concert tonight. I won’t be back until the day after tomorrow. Could you pack my bags for me?”

His words hit me like a slap to the face, and I had to swallow the rising bitterness.

He continued, “Also, pack Paula’s. She’s never done this before. I’m not sure she can manage. I trust you more.”

His words were a dagger, each one twisting deeper. All these years of serving them, living as a silent servant to their needs, and here he was, asking me to pack her bags.

A bitter laugh tore from my throat. But even as I laughed, my eyes burned hot.

I stared straight into Randall’s eyes and said deliberately, “I’m too busy. If you care so much about her, go pack for her yourself.”

Without waiting for his response, I grabbed my suitcase, shoved past him, and walked out of the room.

That night, Paula posted on her social media again.

She shared two photos.

The first was of her holding hands with someone. I instantly recognized Randall in the photo, even though his face was slightly turned.

The second photo was a selfie of her, showing a sapphire necklace that shone under the lights.

When I saw the necklace, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. It was the same necklace my mom had given me before she died. I had never worn it, always keeping it safely tucked away.

A wave of dread washed over me. My heart skipped a beat as panic surged through me. I rushed out of bed, grabbed my suitcase, and opened the safe.

When I opened it, the sapphire necklace was gone.

The realization hit me hard, ‘Randall has stolen my necklace and given it to Paula!’

Fury ignited in every fiber of my being.

I slammed the safe shut, grabbed my things, and hailed a taxi straight to the concert venue.

When I arrived, I ignored the security guards' protests as I charged past them.

There, in the front row, sat Paula, smugly showing off the necklace, basking in the admiration of those around her.

My blood boiled, my head pounded.

Without thinking, I stormed toward her and slapped her across the face.

But in the very next moment, a hand sharply slapped my cheek.

It was Randall's hand.