Chapter 4

HAZEL (AUTHOR POV)

Darkness engulfed her senses. The pain was no longer a sharp sting, but a dull, heavy ache that had settled deep into her bones. She was burning up, her skin hot to the touch, yet she felt as if ice water was running through her veins.

Her breathing was shallow and ragged. Every inhale felt like glass scraping against her throat.

‘If she dies, then good riddance.’

Xander’s words echoed in her mind, cold and merciless. He wished her dead. He looked at her lying there, suffering and alone, and he wished for her end.

Tears streamed down her temples, wetting the hard pillow beneath her head.

Why? What did I do to deserve this? I only wanted to save my father. I only wanted to be a good wife.

But to them, she was nothing. She was just a transaction. A tool to pay off a debt. She was the unwanted wife, the shadow in the magnificent mansion, the maid who wore a wedding ring.

Hours passed like centuries. She was thirsty, so thirsty that her tongue felt stuck to the roof of her mouth. She tried to reach for the glass of water on the bedside table, but her arm felt like it was made of lead. It was too heavy. She couldn't move it an inch.

“Water…” she croaked, her voice barely audible. “Please… water…”

Silence was her only answer.

The door was closed tight. Xander and Selene were in the other room, laughing, talking, living their lives while she slowly faded away in the cold darkness.

She closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion take over. She prayed for strength. She prayed for the morning to come, even though she knew that morning would only bring more pain.

When light finally seeped through the curtains, Hazel forced herself to wake up. Her body felt heavy, as if she had been run over by a truck. Her head was throbbing violently, and her vision was blurry.

But she knew she couldn't stay in bed.

If she didn't get up, they would drag her out. If she didn't work, they would withhold the money for her father's medicine.

Slowly, painfully, she sat up. The world spun around her, making her dizzy. She held onto the headboard, taking deep, shaky breaths to steady herself.

Be strong, Hazel. Just endure.

She stood up and walked to the bathroom. She looked at the mirror and barely recognized herself. Her face was pale, her eyes were sunken and red, and her lips were dry and chapped. She looked like a walking corpse.

She washed her face with cold water, trying to wake herself up. She changed into simple clothes—an old t-shirt and sweatpants. She didn't bother dressing up. What was the point? Xander would only insult her anyway.

When she went downstairs, the kitchen was already busy. The maids were preparing breakfast. But they didn't look at her with pity. They looked at her with indifference, or sometimes, even disdain, following the example of their masters.

“Hazel!”

Mrs. Kingston’s voice boomed from the dining room.

“Get here now! Where have you been? The food is not even served yet! Are you trying to starve us?”

Hazel bit her lip and walked into the dining area. “Good morning, Mother.”

“Don’t call me that!” the old woman snapped, glaring at her. “You are not worthy to be called my daughter-in-law. You are just a leech living under our roof. Now, serve the food. And make it fast!”

“Yes, Mother.”

Hazel moved like a robot. She served the coffee, placed the plates on the table, and poured the juice. Her hands were shaking. She was so weak. The smell of the food made her stomach churn, but at the same time, it made her hungry. She hadn't eaten properly for days.

Xander came down wearing a crisp business suit. He looked handsome, sharp, and powerful. He exuded an aura of authority that made everyone tremble.

He walked past Hazel without even glancing at her. He sat at the head of the table and unfolded his newspaper.

“Xander, good morning,” Selene said, walking in with a bright smile. She sat beside him, acting like the mistress of the house. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well,” Xander answered, his voice deep and calm. He finally looked up, and his eyes accidentally met Hazel’s.

He saw her pale face. He saw how she was swaying slightly as she stood by the table, holding onto the chair for support.

A flicker of something crossed his eyes, but it was gone instantly, replaced by coldness.

“You look terrible,” he said bluntly. “Are you sick?”

Hazel lowered her head. “I’m fine, Husband. I just didn't sleep well.”

“Of course you didn't,” Selene laughed softly. “How can you sleep well when your conscience is heavy? You stole someone else's place, Hazel.”

“I didn't steal anything,” Hazel whispered. “This marriage was arranged—”

“Shut up!” Xander slammed his hand on the table, making the plates rattle. “I don't want to hear your voice. It ruins my appetite. Just stand there and be quiet. Or better yet, get out of my sight.”

Hazel flinched as if she had been slapped. She turned around and walked towards the kitchen, hiding the tears that were threatening to fall.

The whole day was a cycle of pain and humiliation.

Since Selene was still there, Hazel became her personal servant.

“Hazel! Come here and polish my shoes!”

“Hazel! Iron my clothes! Make sure there are no wrinkles!”

“Hazel! Massage my feet! They are so tired from walking!”

Hazel did everything. Her hands, already rough from work, became even more damaged. Her body was screaming for rest, but she wasn't allowed to sit down.

At lunchtime, Selene ordered expensive food again. Crabs, prawns, roasted chicken, and fruits. The table was filled with delicious dishes.

Hazel stood beside her, waiting for her commands. Her stomach growled loudly, a painful reminder of her hunger. She felt lightheaded.

Selene looked at her and smirked.

“Are you hungry, Hazel?” she asked, taking a bite of a crab leg. “Oh right, you haven't eaten yet. But look at this food… it’s so expensive. It’s for people with status. I don't think trash like you deserves to eat this.”

She dipped the meat in the sauce and ate it slowly, savoring every bite while Hazel watched, saliva filling her mouth and shame filling her heart.

When Selene was full, there was still a lot of food left.

Hazel’s eyes followed the food. Maybe… maybe she could eat the leftovers later when no one was looking. She just needed something to give her strength.

But Selene noticed her gaze.

“Hey!” Selene called a maid. “Throw all of this away. Put it in the garbage bin outside. I don't want any leftovers in this house. And make sure that beggar doesn't get a single crumb.”

“Yes, Miss Selene.”

Hazel watched in agony as the food she desired was carried away and thrown into the trash. It was wasted just to humiliate her. Just to show her how worthless she was.

She leaned against the wall, feeling her knees weaken. The fever was coming back. She was burning up again.

Just a little more… just until tonight…

In the afternoon, Tiffany arrived home with friends. They were laughing and carrying heavy shopping bags.

“Hazel! Where are you?!” Tiffany shouted the moment she entered the door.

Hazel rushed to them. “I’m here, Miss Tiffany.”

“Carry these bags! Hurry up! They are heavy!” Tiffany ordered, throwing the bags at Hazel.

Hazel caught them, but they were heavier than they looked. Her arms strained under the weight. Her body, already malnourished and sick, couldn't handle it.

“Walk faster! What are you doing? Moving like a snail!” Tiffany pushed her from behind.

“I… I’m trying…” Hazel gasped.

She took a step forward, but her vision suddenly turned black. Her feet tangled together. She lost her balance.

CRASH!

All the bags fell to the floor. Some items spilled out. A bottle of perfume rolled across the marble floor and shattered into pieces.

Silence fell over the hall.

Tiffany’s face turned red with anger.

“You useless idiot!” she screamed.

She walked up to Hazel and slapped her hard across the face.

SLAP!

The sound echoed loudly. Hazel’s head turned to the side, her cheek stinging and burning.

“Look what you did! That perfume was expensive! Are you blind?! Are you stupid?!”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” Hazel cried, crouching down to pick up the things.

But Tiffany wasn't done. She kicked Hazel on the leg, hard.

“Ouch!” Hazel fell to the floor.

Then Mrs. Kingston came. Seeing the mess, she became furious too.

“What is this?! Hazel! You really are good for nothing!” She walked over and kicked Hazel’s stomach. “We feed you and this is how you repay us?!”

Hazel curled into a ball, protecting her head and body as they kicked and hit her. She bit her lip to stop from screaming. She endured it all.

Suddenly, the front door opened.

Xander was home.

Hazel looked up, tears streaming down her face. She saw him standing there.

“Xander… help…” she whimpered.

Surely, he would stop them. Surely, he wouldn't let them beat her to death right in front of him.

But Xander just stood there, his face expressionless. He looked at his wife lying on the floor, bruised and crying, being kicked by his mother and sister.

“What is all this noise?” he asked coldly.

“Brother!” Tiffany cried fake tears. “She dropped my bags! She broke my things! She’s so clumsy and bad luck!”

Xander walked closer. He looked down at Hazel with pure disgust in his eyes.

“Can’t you even do one simple thing right?” he said, his voice like ice. “You are always causing trouble. You are a disaster wherever you go.”

He didn't help her up. He didn't tell them to stop.

“Get out of my sight,” he spat out. “You make me sick.”

Then, he walked past her. He stepped over her body as if she was just a piece of trash lying on the road.

Hazel lay there, shattered into pieces.

He saw her pain. He saw her suffering. And he chose to ignore it. He chose to side with them.

That night, Hazel was locked outside the room again.

She was sitting on the cold floor in the hallway, shivering. Her body was covered in bruises. Her cheek was swollen from the slap. Her stomach hurt from the kicks.

And her fever was getting worse.

She was burning up. Her whole body was shaking violently. She felt like she was going to die.

She pressed her back against the wall, trying to find warmth.

“Papa…” she whispered weakly. “I’m so tired… I can’t take it anymore…”

But she knew she couldn't give up.

She closed her eyes, letting the tears flow freely into the darkness. She endured the pain. She endured the cold. She endured the hatred.

This was her life now. This was what it meant to be the Billionaire’s Unwanted Wife.

She didn't know how long she could survive this hell, but she promised herself that as long as she was alive, she would endure, No matter how much it hurt.

TO BE CONTINUE