The wife I was meant to hate

“Come on, Alex! You can do it!”

My stepmother's voice echoed through the gym as I lifted the fifty-pound weight.

“Don't be weak like your father, Alex. Be brutal. Lift it!”

She always knew exactly what to say

Whenever I worked out, whenever I was about to lower my guard or show even the slightest bit of kindness to the commoners around me, she'd remind me of my father.

My father was good.

Too good.

And someone he took under his wings, someone whose miserable life he had changed for the better, repaid his kindness by brutally murdering him.

I didn't need to remember the details.

Just thinking about it was enough to send rage rushing through me.

I gritted my teeth and pushed the weight higher.

“That's it, Alex!” my stepmother cheered.

The pain in my arms was nothing compared to the anger burning inside me.

I lifted the weight one more time before throwing it across the room.

It crashed against the floor.

My stepmother immediately burst into applause.

“That's my boy!”

She walked toward me with a proud smile.

“You need to be strong. Powerful. Heartless. Wicked. That's the only way you'll ever make it in this world.”

I wiped the sweat from my forehead.

“You are rich, Alexander. You should always know who you are.”

She pointed around the gym.

“People should kiss the ground you walk on. People should bow before your feet.”

Her smile widenend

“Because you are Alexander Blackwood.”

I leaned back in my seat.

“Servant!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come here.”

The servant hurried toward me.

“Pick the towel over there and Wipe the sweat off my chest.”

“Yes, sir.”

He immediately began wiping the sweat from my chest while I watched him without saying a word.

“Servant!”

Another man stepped forward.

“Yes, sir?”

“Bend.”

He hesitated for half a second before lowering himself.

I placed my foot on his back as though he were nothing more than a stool.

“Stay there.”

“Yes, sir.”

I leaned back comfortably.

They had no choice but to obey me.

They were poor.

I was rich.

They needed this job.

I didn't.

That was the difference between people like them and people like me.

I owned everything around me.

The mansion.

The companies.

The money.

The power.

After my workout, I headed upstairs to my room to get ready.

I had an important meeting that afternoon, and I wasn't about to walk into it late.

I took a quick shower, changed into a tailored black suit, adjusted my watch, and headed downstairs.

“Drive faster,” I ordered as I slid into the back seat.

“Yes, sir.”

The driver immediately pulled away from the mansion.

The heavy rain from the previous night had left the roads in terrible condition. Potholes were filled with muddy water, and traffic was moving painfully slowly.

I glanced through the window and scoffed.

“How does one thunderstorm manage to destroy a ten-lane highway that was constructed barely three months ago?”

The driver said nothing.

He knew better than to answer questions I wasn't actually asking.

As we approached a turn, the car rolled through a large puddle.

A second later—

“Heyyyyy!”

A scream came from outside.

I looked through the window.

A young woman stood in the middle of the road, staring at us in disbelief. Muddy water covered her clothes from head to toe.

“Are you mad?” she yelled. “How could you splash dirty water all over me? I have an interview!”

I barely glanced at her.

“Keep driving.”

The driver hesitated.

“Sir, she—”

“I said keep driving. We don't have time for fools.”

He obeyed.

I expected her to curse us and walk away.

Instead, she ran after the car.

I watched through the rear window as her petite figure came closer.

What the hell?

She actually caught up.

She began banging on the trunk and shouting at the driver.

Then a stone flew through the air.

Crack.

My head snapped toward the rear mirror.

Another stone.

“Stop the car.”

The driver immediately pulled over.

“Open the door."

“Yes, sir.”

He hurried around and opened it for me.

I stepped out.

For a moment, everything seemed to go quiet.

The woman marched toward me, furious.

She was petite, with a small, slender frame that made her look almost delicate beneath her soaked clothes, Her sexy figure, Her long hair was messy from the rain, strands sticking to her face, yet somehow she still looked striking.

Sexy

Too sexy for someone with such an ugly attitude.

She stopped right in front of me.

“Oh, please!” she snapped. “Is your hand broken?”

She pointed at her ruined clothes.

“You rich people think you can oppress everyone just because you have money! I have a job interview today, and you completely ruined my clothes. Am I supposed to walk into an interview looking like this?”

I stared at her.

“And you're paying for the damage!”

I almost laughed.

This tiny woman had some nerve.

Women were supposed to know how to behave around men like me. They were supposed to be respectful and understand that men like me didn't answer to them.

“