The Worthless Ex-Wife's Revenge

Serena

"Happy birthday, son."

I watched as the man kissed the little boy's cheek, handing him the gift box wrapped in bright blue paper, making my heart ache in pain.

The little boy tears it open and his face lights up like the sun. A PS5. Of course it is.

"Thanks, Daddy!" Kelvin throws his small arms around his neck.

"Thank you so much, honey. Kelvin really loves it." A beautiful woman said with a bright smile as she kissed the man on the lips, right there in my living room, and I felt something inside me die all over again.

That man is Marcus, my husband. My lawfully wedded husband of five years. And that woman wrapped around him is Sarah Chen, the girl who used to braid my hair during sleepovers, who knew all my secrets, who I trusted with my life.

And that little boy, the one laughing and tearing into more presents? Is their three-year-old son.

The sight of them burned my heart, crashing it into pieces beyond repairs.

I grip the wine bottle in my hand so hard I'm surprised it doesn't shatter. I can't let them see me cry. Not again. Not today.

But God, it hurts. It hurts so much I can barely breathe. I'm watching them play happy family while I stand here in the corner like a servant. No, worse than a servant. At least servants get paid. At least servants can leave.

I am nothing in this house anymore. Nothing but a ghost haunting my own life.

It all started three years ago. Three years that feel like a lifetime.

Sarah came to me crying. Really crying, the kind that shakes your whole body. Her family's company had gone bankrupt. They lost everything. She had no job, no money, nothing. She begged me to help her.

"Please," she sobbed into my shoulder. "Just ask Marcus if there's anything at his company. Anything at all."

How could I say no? This was Sarah. My sister is everything but blood.

So I went to Marcus. I begged him to hire her as his secretary. He said no at first. Said it wasn't professional. But I kept asking. Keep pleading. For five days straight, I wouldn't let it go.

Finally, he agreed.

Five months later, everything changed.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. I'll remember it until the day I die. Marcus's entire family showed up at our house unannounced. His mother, Margaret Wellington. His father, Richard. His sister, Victoria. All of them standing in my living room with faces like stone.

My hands were shaking. The Wellingtons never liked me. I wasn't rich enough, connected enough, good enough for their precious son. They made that clear from the day Marcus introduced me.

Marcus stood in front of them, and he couldn't even look at me.

"What's going on?" My voice came out small, afraid.

Margaret spoke first. "Sarah is pregnant."

The world stopped spinning. I couldn't hear anything but a ringing in my ears.

"It's Marcus's child," she continued, her voice cold and matter-of-fact. "She's four months along."

I looked at Marcus. Finally, he looked back at me. There were tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. It just happened. I didn't mean for it to happen."

It just happened. Like tripping over a stone. Like forgetting your keys. My husband got my best friend pregnant and it just happened.

God,

Victoria smirked from the corner. "Well, at least someone in this family can give us an heir. We were starting to worry Marcus married a broken woman."

I wanted to die right there. Just sink into the floor and disappear.

"You barren waste of space," Richard added, shaking his head. "Two years and not even a pregnancy scare. Maybe this is God's way of correcting Marcus's mistake."

His mistake. Me. I was the mistake.

But Marcus grabbed my hands. "Please," he begged. "Please, I love you. You're my wife. You'll always be my wife. Just let me take care of this. Let Sarah have the baby, and then I'll send her away. I promise. I swear on everything. Just don't leave me."

I should have left. I should have walked out that door and never looked back.

But where would I go?

My father disowned me five years ago when I decided to marry Marcus against his wishes. He wanted me to marry his business partner's son. When I refused, when I chose love over duty, he threw me out. Changed the locks. Changed his will. Told everyone I was no longer his daughter.

I have no money. Marcus made me quit my job right after the wedding. Said a Wellington wife doesn't need to work. Said he wanted to take care of me.

I had nothing. I have nothing to my name.

So I stayed.

The next day, Marcus held me close. "I promise you," he said, kissing my forehead. "As soon as she gives birth, I'll send her away. She means nothing to me. You're my love. You're my wife. Always."

I believed him. God help me, I believed him.

But then Kelvin was born. A healthy, beautiful baby boy. The heir the Wellingtons always wanted.

And everything changed again.

Suddenly Sarah wasn't leaving. She was moving into the guest room permanently. For the baby, they said. So Marcus could bond with his son.

Margaret moved in too. To help with the baby, she said.

And me? I became invisible. No, worse. I became the maid.

"Serena!"

Margaret's sharp voice cuts through my memories like a knife. I jump, nearly dropping the wine bottle.

"What are you doing standing there like a statue? Come here and serve the guests!"

My hands are trembling as I walk toward the living room. All of Marcus's business partners are here. Their wives. People from the country club. Everyone who matters in this city. And they're all celebrating Sarah's son. In my house. At my husband's side.

I move between them like a shadow, pouring wine, taking empty plates, invisible until someone needs something.

God, If someone had told me five years ago that I'd be serving drinks at my husband's mistress's son's birthday party, I would have laughed in their face. I would have said that could never happen. Not to me. Not to us.

I wouldn't have believed that Marcus could betray me. That Sarah could stab me in the back while smiling to my face.

But here I am.

"You're so lazy and worthless."

Margaret hisses as I pour wine for one of the guests, my hands shaking so badly the bottle rattles against the glass.

"Can't you even hold it properly?"

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

She leans close, her breath hot against my ear. "Behave yourself and stop embarrassing us in front of our guests. Anyone who sees you now will think the Wellingtons aren't treating you well."

I want to scream. I want to laugh. They turned me into a servant in my own home and she's worried about appearances?

But I know better. Everyone here knows what's happening. They all see it. They just don't care. The Wellingtons are too powerful, too connected. No one wants to get on their bad side.

So I swallow my words. I nod. I keep pouring wine.

I go back to the kitchen to get more bottles. The doorbell rang a few minutes ago. More guests are arriving.

I'm walking back to the living room, balancing a tray of full glasses, when Sarah's foot shoots out in front of me.

I don't even have time to catch myself. I'm falling, the tray flying from my hands, glass shattering across the marble floor.

The room went silent, everyone turned their gaze on me.

I'm on my hands and knees in a sea of broken glass and spilled wine. My palm lands on a sharp piece and I gasp as pain shoots through my hand. Blood blooms across my skin, dripping onto the white marble.

"You clumsy fool!" Margaret's voice rings out across the silent room. "Look what you've done! Do you have any idea how much that wine costs? How much those glasses cost?"

My hand is bleeding badly now, but she doesn't even look at it.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, trying to gather the broken pieces with my good hand. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry doesn't fix anything! You're completely worthless. Absolutely worthless!"

Tears are running down my face now. I can't stop them. I'm bleeding and crying and crawling on the floor while a hundred people watch.

I look up. Marcus is standing right there, just a few feet away. Sarah is clutching his arm, her face twisted in fake concern.

Our eyes meet.

Help me, I beg him silently. Please. Just this once. Stand up for me. Tell your mother to stop. Help me up. Anything.

But he just stands there. He doesn't move. Doesn't speak. He can't. Not with Sarah holding his arm. Not with his mother watching. Not with all these people here.

I'm nothing to him anymore. Not even worth defending.

I lower my head and keep picking up glass. Each piece cuts deeper than the last. Or maybe that's just my heart finally breaking completely.

"Get up and clean this mess properly," Margaret snaps. "And change your clothes. You look like a disaster."

I gather the last pieces in the hem of my dress and stumble to my feet. Blood is running down my wrist now. No one offers to help. No one even moves.

I walk to the kitchen on shaking legs.

The door swings shut behind me and I can't hold it anymore. I collapse against the counter and sob. Deep, painful cries that tear out of my chest. I press my bleeding hand against my mouth to muffle the sound.

This is my life now. This is what I've become.

God, How did I get here? How did I let this happen?