The Revenge You Deserve

“From now on, you’ll be staying in the back room.” Rowena—my mother-in-law—looked from me to my private nurse and back again, her gaze sharp and unreadable. It made me frown despite myself, confusion knotting in my chest.

Today was my last chemotherapy session. I had expected congratulations, maybe even a small celebration—something to mark the end of a long, grueling fight. I was so sure recovery was finally within reach. So why was I being met with something like this instead?

“Why?” I asked, unable to hide my bewilderment.

I was still exhausted, my body aching, my stomach rolling faintly with nausea—though not as bad as before. All I wanted was to go upstairs and collapse into my own bed. Instead, my mother-in-law stood in my way.

Besides, as far as I knew, my husband and I had no plans to renovate the bedroom.

“It’s nothing. You’ll be better off staying there,” Rowena replied without even looking at me. “Isn’t it more convenient for you? Easier to call your nurse or go to the kitchen whenever you need something?”

My frown deepened.

“Ma’am, you can call me anytime, I—”

“You’re just a servant in this house,” Rowena cut in sharply. “You’re paid to work, not to interrupt me.”

I stared at her, more confused than ever. What was going on? Why was she acting like this?

“You and the children can stay here now. I’ve already prepared—”

I turned at the sound of my husband’s voice.

There he was, standing in the doorway. And beside him… a woman I didn’t recognize, along with two young boys who were just as unfamiliar to me.

The woman was beautiful—soft-featured, almost fragile in a way that stirred instinctive sympathy. The boys clung to her, hiding behind her back, their small arms wrapped tightly around her waist as though the world beyond her was something to fear.

The sight pierced me in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

“You’re home already? You don’t usually come back this early,” he said, confusion flickering across his face.

I should have been the one asking that question.

Why was he here at this hour?

He wasn’t the kind of man who left work early without reason. As the Head of Leasing at one of the largest malls in the city, his life ran on a relentless, uncompromising schedule.

But today… he was here.

And he wasn’t alone.

“Did my mother already tell you about the new room arrangements?” he asked when I didn’t respond.

“You mean… I’m the one moving to the back room? But why?” I pressed.

My gaze flicked to our guest, who now hovered shyly behind my husband, shielding her two little boys. They looked about a year or two younger than my daughters.

“Yes. That… well… it was my suggestion. So you’d be more comfortable,” he said at last, his eyes darting briefly to his mother—as if seeking her approval.

Something felt terribly wrong.

I was too exhausted to argue. A chill crept over my skin, sweat dampening my back. But I couldn’t back down now.

Not before I knew who they were.

“Who are they?” I asked again, more firmly this time.

“That’s Diana Vane.”

Rowena stepped forward, and suddenly her voice turned warm—warm in a way I had never heard her use with me.

She slipped an arm around the woman.

Gentle. Affectionate.

A tenderness I had never once received from her.

Yes… ever since I married Dominic, my mother-in-law had never shown me a single ounce of kindness, no matter how hard I tried to treat her like my own mother.

“She’s the daughter of an old friend of mine,” Rowena continued. “And starting today, she’ll be living here. With her children.”

I looked at them.

Then back at Dominic.

“Why?” I asked. This was my home. I had every right to know who was staying under my roof—and why.

“Her husband just passed away, and her late husband’s family doesn’t accept her, so…” Dominic trailed off. “The point is, she and her children need a place to stay for a while,” he finished. “As an old friend, I have to help her.”

“Help?” I echoed softly. “Doesn’t she have any other family?”

“She’s just like you,” Rowena cut in coldly. “An orphan.”

The words struck harder than a slap.

And yet… somehow, that sharpness was meant only for me.

Not for her.

“She must have friends,” I said, trying to steady myself, even as something inside me began to crack.

“Precisely because she doesn’t,” Rowena snapped, her voice rising, “we’re taking her in.”

We.

Not my husband and me.

We.

“And where exactly are you planning to put them?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

This house wasn’t as big as they seemed to think.

One master bedroom. Two rooms for my daughters. One for Rowena. A guest room. And two small spaces at the back—one for the maid, one for storage.

There was no room for strangers.

“We’ve already arranged everything,” Dominic said, his tone far too casual. “Chelsea and Elena will share a room. Dominic and Oliver will take Elena’s room.”

I froze.

Dominic… and Oliver. So one of that woman’s sons was named Dominic?

No wonder my husband had said it so easily—almost proudly. He had always wanted a son, and all I had given him were two daughters.

Did it satisfy something in him, hearing another woman—Diana—give her son the same name as his? I couldn’t understand it. Not at all.

“And Diana will stay in the guest room.”

Each word felt like a blade dragging slowly across my skin.

I should have been furious.

I should have shouted.

But I was too tired for any of that.

“Fine,” I said at last, my voice flat. Hollow. “Whatever you want.”

I turned to my nurse.

“I understand. Do as you please. I’m tired, and I need to rest.” My tone was distant, detached—as if I didn’t care about the guests who had suddenly appeared, or my mother-in-law standing right there. “Take me to my room.”

My nurse, who had been holding me up all this time to keep me from swaying, tightened her grip and guided me forward.

I headed straight for the master bedroom. But before I could even touch the doorknob, my arm was yanked back—hard.

My body lurched, and with a sharp shove, I fell to the floor.

Pain shot from my elbow straight up my spine.

I looked up.

Rowena stood over me, her eyes burning with something darker than simple hatred.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she hissed.

Then, her voice turning colder than before—

“From now on, you’ll be sleeping in the back room. Didn’t you hear what I said?”