Chapter 3

Nadia

I couldn’t believe the words had come out of my mouth. 

My heart pounded so loudly in my ears, that I thought it might burst out of my chest. 

My temples throbbed with the pressure, while my fingertips were numb with the tremors that wouldn’t stop. 

I stared at Damian’s back, still waiting for him to say something, anything. But deep inside, I was terrified of what he might say.

Please, I screamed inside my head. 

Please turn around and tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you will change. Tell me you don’t want to lose me. 

After what felt like an eternity, he turned around slowly, and my heart stopped.

His face was cold, his eyes flat and hard. 

He looked annoyed instead. As if I had interrupted him for some trivial, and foolish thing.

"What did you just say?" His voice was low, controlled, and dangerous.

I swallowed hard. 

My throat felt like sandpaper. "I said I want a divorce."

Damien stared at me, the silence between us stretching longer than it should have. 

Then, he laughed. 

It was short, and cruel. A sound that sliced through the air and straight into me.

"You want a divorce?" he repeated, shaking his head. 

He folded his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing. "You’ve been living in my house for six years. You’ve been eating my food, spending my money, raising my children. And now you want a divorce? Do you even hear yourself?"

"I hear myself," I said, my voice trembling. It sounded so weak. And God, I hate how weak I sound. "I’ve given you six years of my life. I’ve given you everything."

"You’ve given me nothing," Damian snapped.  His voice was rising now, his anger evident. "Everything you have, I gave to you first. Your clothes. The car you drive. Do you think you earned any of that? Do you think you built something here? You walked into a life I already had, and you’ve been living off it ever since."

"That’s not fair," I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I have been a mother to your children. I have been a wife to you. I’ve been here every single day for six years.” 

Damian scoffed, "You’re not their mother. You never have been. Simone is their mother. You’re just the woman who married me after she left. Don’t confuse your role here."

I flinched, as the insult stung. I tightened my fingers around the velvet box, the cold, and meaningless pendant inside glaring up at me.

"I’ve loved those children," I said, my voice cracking as tears spilled down my cheeks. "I’ve loved them with everything I have. How can you say I’m not their mother?"

"Because you’re not," Damian said flatly. And as he did, his eyes never wavered from mine. "You knew what this was when you married me. You knew the children had a mother. I wasn’t looking for love, Nadia. I was looking for someone to manage the household. You wanted the lifestyle, and I wanted the help. Don’t pretend it was ever anything more."

I stared at him, the words crushing the air from my lungs. 

That was all I was. A set of hands to make breakfast, fold laundry, and drive the children to school.

"You’re not getting a divorce. You have nowhere to go, and no one to go to. You have no money and family that cares about you. You’ll stay here, do your job, and stop this nonsense. End of conversation."

With that, he walked out, slamming the door behind him. 

The sound of the latch clicking into place was the loneliest noise I had ever heard. I sat on the bed, clutching the necklace, and I cried. 

I cried until my chest hurt, my throat burned, and my vision blurred with tears.

The next morning I was jerked awake by the shocking sensation of water hitting my face. 

I gasped, sputtering as my eyes shot open. Isabella stood over me, with an empty glass in her hand, and a smirk on her lips. Behind her, Lucas leaned against the doorframe, with his arms crossed.

"Get up," Isabella said, shaking the glass so a few drops splashed onto the sheets. 

"We’re hungry. You didn’t make breakfast. That’s your job, you know."

I wiped my face with my sleeve, sitting up slowly. My head pounded.  My body felt like lead. 

"Isabella," I rasped, my voice hoarse. "You didn’t have to throw water on me."

"You wouldn’t wake up," she said nonchalantly. "Lucas called you, like, three times. You just kept sleeping. What’s wrong with you?"

"I didn’t sleep well," I murmured, still dazed. "Give me a few minutes and I’ll make breakfast."

Lucas snorted. "Forget breakfast. We already ate cereal. We just wanted to see if you were dead or something."

"Why would I be dead?" I said quietly, my voice betraying the emptiness I felt inside.

"I don’t know," Lucas replied, shrugging. "You looked dead when we came in. Your face is all puffy and gross. Were you crying again?"

I didn’t answer. Instead, I looked down at my hands and realized I was still holding the velvet box. Isabella noticed it too.

"What’s that?" she asked, snatching it from my hands before I could stop her. 

She opened it and pulled out the necklace, holding it up to the light. "Another necklace. Dad gave you another necklace?"

She glanced at Lucas, and they both laughed.

"He gives you the same one every year," Lucas said. "Do you think he even knows what he bought you? Do you think he cares?"

"Stop it," I whispered, my voice barely a audible m.

"Dad doesn’t love you," Isabella said casually, as if she were talking about the weather. "He loves our real mom. He bought her a new car for her yesterday. A Mercedes. He spent hours picking it out. Even asked us what color she’d like. He never asks us about your gifts because he doesn’t care about your gifts."

The words hit me like a wave crashing over me. 

A new car. 

He had bought Simone a new car. He had spent hours picking it out. And for me? I received the same thoughtless, and careless necklace every year.

Isabella tossed the necklace onto the bed. "You’ll never take her place," she said. "You’re not our mother. You’re just the woman who cooks, cleans, and cries all the time. It’s pathetic."

With that, she turned, walking out of the room without a second glance. Lucas followed her, looking  indifferent.

I sat on the wet sheets, staring at the necklace with my  hands clenched around it as Eli’s voice echoed in my mind,” come home.” 

The rest of the day passed in a haze. 

I cleaned the kitchen, did the laundry, and moved through the house like a ghost. 

I thought about the mornings I ate breakfast alone, the nights I slept in the guest room because Damian didn’t want me in his bed. I thought about the children’s laughter, their cold eyes, and their cruel words. 

I was angry at Damian for taking those years from me. But I was angrier at myself for giving them to him so willingly.

I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, when Damian walked in. 

He was still in his work clothes, with his phone pressed to his ear. When he got to me, he ended the call and looked at me, that same cold, and distant look in his eyes.

"We’re having a guest for dinner," he said. "Set the table for five."

I paused, the knife still  in my hand. "Who’s coming?"

"It doesn’t matter," Damian replied, his voice flat. "Just set the table."

He walked out before I could ask anything else.

At seven o’clock, the doorbell rang. I walked to the front hall. 

The moment I opened the door, my heart dropped. 

Before me stood Simone. Tall, elegant, with honey-blonde hair cascading in waves over her shoulders. 

She was wearing a red dress, diamond earrings, and lipstick the exact shade of the roses in the garden. 

She looked at me and smiled, but it wasn’t a kind smile. It was a smile that said she knew exactly who she was and exactly who I wasn’t.

"Hello, Nadia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "I hope you made something good. I’m very particular about my meals."

I stepped aside, trembling. 

The children came running into the hall, throwing their arms around her. 

I stared at Lucas who was laughing. Isabella squealed with delight. They looked at her as if she were the sun and the moon.

"Mom, you look so pretty," Isabella said. "I love your dress. You’re the most beautiful person in the world.”

Simone cupped Isabella’s face, kissing her forehead. 

"Thank you, sweetheart. I missed you both so much."

"I missed you more," Lucas added, smiling up at her. 

"Can you stay tonight? Can you stay forever?"

Isabella asked and my chest tightened.