CHAPTER THREE

ZALE POV

 

I stopped typing on my laptop when my eyes started to hurt. Groaning, I closed my eyes.

Ever since the argument with that girl, I had buried myself in work. To block out her pretentious voice, my parents' threat and the unending anger raging inside of me.

My gaze shifted to the wall clock, and it was past midnight. Sleep had eluded me. The luxury of tranquility was beyond reach.

For years, I had managed the storm, but now. It had become chaotic. No matter how much I try to understand why my parents did what they did, nothing made sense.

Unless she manipulated them, I don't see why they chose her. As unreasonable as it sounds, my father threatened to strip me of my inheritance if I divorce her.

But no matter what, I'll make her suffer so badly that she will divorce me instead. Good thing I don't need anything from her.

I see through the facade she's putting on. All I see is a pretentious, greedy, and manipulative gold digger. Else, why would she agree to marry a man that you know nothing about?

I'm not surprised she ignored something else. Love. To me, love doesn't exist because women made sure of that. The only thing they care about is wealth and affluence.

All women are the same, except Mrs. Rhode, of course. Unlike these bitches, who want to reap where they did not sow, my mother helped my father build the wealth.

I am not a misogynist, but I hate her. She crashed into my life uninvited and ruined it all. The little peace I've safeguarded, the walls I built around me all these years, he invaded and destroyed everything.

Love. I don't believe in that. I'll make sure her life becomes a living hell. For insisting on staying married to me.

Grabbing the bottle of scotch from the table, I gulped down the liquid directly from the bottle. It burned my throat, but it did nothing to calm me down.

I balled my hands into fists so tight that my knuckles cracked. The veins in my neck popped. The reality of having a woman tied to me again riled me up.

I fished out my phone from my pocket and dialed the number of my private investigator. He picked up almost immediately. 

"Sir," he said

"I want you to run a background check on Isla. The girl with strawberry blonde hair that works in the Rhode's mansion," I ordered.

"On it sir," I hung up immediately, he replied.

With folded arms, I stared outside the window. I don't know how many hours I stood there. The heat of the sun that seeped through the window burnt my face.

I walked into the bathroom and filled up the bath with cold water, and stepped in, submerging my whole body in the water.

Soon, I was done with my business in the bathroom and was clad in a white hoodie and jeans.

Someone knocked on the door, but I didn't respond. Again, the person knocked.

"Leave," I grumbled, and the person stopped.

Against my will, I have to go have breakfast. The last thing I need right now is someone nagging me.

I opened that door, and my hands clenched instinctively. Standing before me was none other than my nemesis.

The urge to strangle her and free myself from this entanglement overwhelmed me, but again... self-control. The plans I have for her are definitely not good ones.

"Good...good morning," she stuttered, standing far away from me.

I ignored her and walked away.

Good morning? What is good about the morning? Of course, waking up as Mrs. Rhode is indeed pleasant.

Quietly, she trailed behind me. My parents were seated when I strode into the dining hall.

"Hello son, how was your night?" My mom beamed.

Out of courtesy, I gave them a curt nod before taking my seat. Without uttering a word, I dished my food. No one talked. The atmosphere was so tense that a sword could slice through it.

Their daughter-in-law walked in and sat on the third chair on the left, skipping the chair close to me. I scoffed internally. What is she trying to prove?

But I'm glad she knows her place.

"As a gentleman, you should pull out a chair for your wife. I taught you better than that," dad said.

"You like the meal, right?" Mom chuckled.

Their constant effort to get me to talk was annoying the hell out of me.

"Do you want me to eat or not?" I slammed the cutlery on the table, raising an eyebrow at them.

"I'm fine sir," her annoying voice itched my ear.

Dad frowned, "sir? I told you to call me papa"

At that point, I was done. My appetite was gone. The hypocrisy was irritating me.

I pushed back my chair to stand up when mom ordered, "sit your ass back on that chair, Zale"

"I lost my appetite," I replied, gritting my teeth.

"This is family time and you dare not walk out on us. I did not raise a disrespectful son," she hissed, eyeing me.

My heart thudded, the veins in my neck pulsated as the last thread of my patience strained.

They are pushing me too much. I had never regretted my visit in the past like the way I do now.

I nodded and sat down, not bothering to continue eating.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," I announced, and I heard the so-called wife of mine gasp.

"So soon? You just got here?" Dad said.

Exactly my point. I just got here and have successfully turned my life upside down. The longer I stay here, the more I lose my sanity.

"I have work to do," I replied in a low voice.

"That's fine. Isla dear," mom shrugged, looking at Isla, "tell the maids to help you pack your stuff. You are following Zale to your matrimonial home," she added.

I repeatedly tapped my foot against the floor before yelling, "Mom!" Tears pooled in my eyes, but I pushed it back. Why is she doing this to me? I pinched myself so hard, but I felt numb.

I sprang up and faced the witch, "get a driver to take you there".

Dad opened his mouth to say something, but I walked out before he could say anything.

She sat there innocently, and I hated that.