Chapter 2

I dragged my tired feet home only to see my things scattered all over the floor.

The moment I saw the framed photo on the ground, the color drained from my face.

I picked it up with trembling hands. With red-rimmed eyes, I screamed at the housekeeper, "Who gave you permission to touch my dad's photo?"

She didn't even bother to look up and coldly replied, "Mr. Compton gave the order. If you have a problem, take it up with him."

Her tone was full of contempt, as if I wasn't the lady of the house. After all, I was probably worth less than trash in the Compton family.

Just then, a voice came from behind me.

"I told them to do it. What about it?"

I turned around to see Eric impatiently staring at me.

"Monica's coming back. She loves places that face the sun, so move out of your room. You'll sleep in the staff quarters."

He glanced at my worn-out clothes on the floor and sneered, "After all, that's the life you've always known, right? It doesn't seem like it's beneath you."

Eric had always looked down on my humble background. He believed that marrying me was an insult to his status as the Compton family's heir.

Marrying above one's station had always been like this. No matter how much it hurt, I had to swallow all my grievances and keep quiet.

But now, I no longer wanted to put up with it.

I quietly picked up my father's photo and stood up to leave.

When I didn't head toward the staff quarters, Eric frowned and grabbed my hand. "Where are you going?"

I flatly answered, "Since Monica is coming back, I won't stay here and be an eyesore."

Eric clicked his tongue and said, "At least you know your place. But there's no need to move out."

He looked up and spoke like he was being generous. "Monica said what she missed most while abroad was your beef stew. You can stay here for a while and cook for her."

Then, he seemed to remember something and coldly added, "Don't tell her I ever touched you. You know what will happen if she finds out." He tightened his grip on my wrist and looked at me with a threatening gaze.

I could almost taste the bitterness in the milk again—the ones he had laced with birth control.

I nodded. "Don't worry. I won't bother either of you." I never will again.

Eric nodded in satisfaction and went upstairs.

In just a few minutes, the company's styling team arrived with the latest designer suits and luxury watches.

I had never seen Eric so eager or invested. He had truly gone all out for Monica. However, he'd only ever showed me his miserable and worn-down side.

…

That night, Eric brought Monica home.

When she saw me in the house staff's uniform carrying beef stew, a flash of amusement crossed her eyes. She said with fake remorse, "How could I let you cook for me, Avery? You're Eric's wife, after all."

Eric affectionately looked at her. "To me, you're my true wife. It's her honor to cook for you."

I stood there stiffly, listening to them flirt in front of me. Just as I was about to set the stew down, someone bumped my elbow.

The scalding beef stew spilled, and the back of my hand turned red from the burn. Before I could even cry out in pain, Eric shoved me aside and yelled, "Can't you be more careful? What if you hurt Monica?"

He gently picked Monica up and knelt in front of the couch with a frown. Then, he carefully wiped the stew off her high heels.

I looked up and met Monica's taunting gaze.

"Eric, is Avery mad? I only said I wanted her beef stew. I didn't mean to treat her like a maid."

Her pitiful expression stirred Eric's need to protect her. He turned to me, and the look in his eyes suddenly darkened.

He marched over and slammed my hands onto the shattered porcelain on the floor. "How dare you try to hurt Monica? You won't learn your lesson until you're punished, will you?"

His anger didn't subside until my hands were torn and bleeding.

When he saw me grit my teeth in silence, Eric froze for a moment. Then, his grip eased slightly.

Just then, Monica's voice rang out, "Eric, let's go upstairs. Didn't you say you had a gift for me?"