Chapter 4: The Spark of Rebellion

After that day, my position in the Caldwell household plummeted to rock bottom.

Ethan Caldwell’s warning was like a final ultimatum, nailing me to a pillar of shame as a “jealous, malicious woman with dirty thoughts.” The servants’ stares grew more blatant; even Mrs. Zhou, when bringing my meals, showed clear disrespect behind her perfunctory manners. Vivian Caldwell seized every chance to criticize me, always comparing my inadequacy to Olivia Chen’s supposed “kindness and grace.”

I grew more silent, rarely leaving my suite, drifting like a ghost in that luxurious but icy cage. The bruise on my lower back—where I had struck the coffee table—remained dark purple, aching now and then, a constant reminder of that day’s humiliation.

I began seriously contemplating leaving. This marriage had always been a mistake—a transaction exchanging my dignity and freedom for my family’s survival. Now that the Lane family’s crisis was temporarily relieved thanks to the Caldwells’ money, was my value already exhausted?

But if I left, where could I go? Back to the Lane family? The same family that pushed me forward as a substitute? Could they still accept me? And besides, I had no money. Without the Caldwell name, how would I even survive?

Despair wrapped around me like a strangling vine, tightening with every breath.

Just as I was about to be devoured by hopelessness, a sudden turning point arrived in a way I could never have foreseen.

It was an overcast afternoon. I woke from a nap, parched, and went downstairs to get water.

Passing the study, I noticed the door ajar. From inside came Ethan’s voice, speaking on the phone, unusually relaxed, even tinged with a faint smile.

I instinctively wanted to hurry past, avoiding him. But then, I heard my name.

My steps halted against my will, my heart pounding wildly.

I held my breath, inching toward the door. I knew eavesdropping was wrong, but an ominous premonition seized me, rooting me to the spot.

His voice drifted out, casual, almost as if discussing the weather.

“…The Lane family is stable for now. Let’s see how they perform moving forward. After all, they paid a price, so they deserve a little benefit.”

My hand clenched. Price? Was he referring to me?

Then his tone shifted, carrying a softness, even a trace of anticipation.

“As for Sophia… wait a little longer. Divorce would cause problems now. Once the resort project with the Chen family is finalized and on track, we’ll deal with it.”

My breath caught sharply. Divorce… So he had never intended for this marriage to continue.

The person on the other end must have asked something, because Ethan chuckled—a low laugh that stabbed into my ears like needles.

“She?” His tone was dripping with contempt, absolute in its dismissal. “Sophia? She’s nothing but a temporary placeholder. When the time comes, she’ll step aside for the one who truly belongs.”

“At that time, Olivia will enter the family openly and rightfully.”

—Boom!

Like thunder exploding in my mind.

In an instant, all other sound vanished. The world fell silent, except for Ethan’s words echoing endlessly in my ears, each syllable a blade slicing apart the last of my illusions.

Placeholder… temporary… step aside… rightful place…

So this was the truth.

He had planned everything from the beginning. My existence was nothing but a pawn, a puppet used to stabilize deals and hold a place for his beloved Olivia. Once he was finished using me, he would discard me without hesitation, then marry her in triumph.

Then what did all my suffering mean? My humiliation, my endurance, my pitiful attempts to hold on—what were they worth?

Rage and a chilling cold surged through me, fire and ice colliding in my veins. My face went pale, my limbs cold, my jaw clenched so tightly my body trembled.

From beginning to end, I had been nothing but a joke.

Inside the study, he continued speaking lightly of projects and Olivia’s future, unaware that outside, the “placeholder” he scorned had heard everything. My world collapsed in that moment—and began to reshape.

I didn’t listen further.

Turning slowly, like a soulless puppet, I walked step by step back to my room.

Closing the door, I slid down against the cold wood.

No tears. No screams. Not a sound.

After the extreme rage came an eerie calm, like death.

I lifted my head, eyes sweeping the prison of gilded luxury—the cold bed, the untouched vanity, the wardrobe full of clothes that weren’t mine.

Finally, my gaze fell on the mirror.

The reflection was pale and thin, eyes filled with fear yet also an eerie numbness born of total despair.

That was me—Sophia Lane. The unwanted daughter of the Lane family, pushed forward as a substitute. The despised wife in the Caldwell home.

No.

Not anymore.

Ethan Caldwell, you were right. I’m just a placeholder.

But even a placeholder has its use. You gave me the title of Mrs. Caldwell, this so-called shelter—this prison—and the privilege of witnessing all your ugliness.

So why shouldn’t I use it?

You all think I’m weak, easy to trample, disposable?

Fine.

Then watch what happens when someone with nothing left is pushed to the edge.

Placeholder?

I stared at my reflection. The fear and humiliation in my eyes cracked apart, replaced by something cold, hard, and unyielding, rising from the ruins.

My lips curved into the faintest, coldest smile.

Let’s see how this “placeholder” topples your perfect game.