Polished Parents

To marry the heir to the Astor dynasty, I reinvented my adoptive parents, turning street beggars into respected academics.
Then, using my platform as a top financial news anchor, I helped my selectively mute husband seize control of his family's empire.
On our wedding day, he pressed the deed to our villa into my hands and kissed me again and again.
But today, on a business trip, I overheard him confess his love to his old flame, his voice perfectly clear and steady.
"Rosalind, you're finally back. I faked this condition and married that grifter just to get my parents to finally accept us."
"Now, all I have to do is expose the truth about her fake high-society background, and you can finally marry me."
A chill washed over me, colder than any winter ice.
So, he wasn't mute.
He knew I was lying from the very beginning.
And he married me only to pave the way for his one true love to become the next Mrs. Astor.

1
The airport terminal was a river of people, but I felt utterly alone, frozen in place. Rosalind was wrapped in my husband's arms, her voice thick with staged tears. "Julian, it's all my fault. If I hadn't gotten pregnant back then, your parents would never have been so against us."
"To think you pretended to be mute for all these years, just for me… you've sacrificed so much."
My husband, Julian Astor, stroked her hair with a tenderness I had once believed was mine.
"It was nothing. For you and our child, it was all worth it."
His voice dropped, a low, intimate rumble. "How is he? Our Leo?"
"He's wonderful. He's officially living with my parents, and he calls me his big sister in public, but he knows the truth," she whispered. "You know how it is. I had to follow my parents' plan if I wanted my inheritance."
His tone darkened. "But that's all over now. Tia helped me secure the company. The succession is in a few days. After that, it's just the three of us. A real family."
No wonder Leo looked at me with such hatred every time he saw me, his words always dripping with venom. He never once called me by my name.
I'd always thought it was just a boy's jealousy, angry that I had stolen his beloved uncle's attention.
Now I knew the truth. He hated me for taking his mother's place.
A blade of ice seemed to plunge into my chest, leaving a gaping, frozen wound.
Just then, a look of faux concern crossed Rosalind's beautiful face.
"You deliberately made Tia fall in love with you. For three years, she's worked herself to the bone for you."
"She'll be heartbroken when she finds out the truth. Can you really be so cruel as to cast her aside?"
Julian's eyes flickered for a second, then he let out a cold, dismissive laugh.
"Tia? A gold-digging liar raised by beggars? She was never worthy of being an Astor. Besides, I've given her more than she ever deserved. What right does she have to be heartbroken?"
A gold-digging liar. So that's all I was to him.
A bitter smile twisted my lips, and the last of the color drained from my face.
For three years, I had leveraged my career, my reputation, my everything for him. I had humbled myself, begging for his sake. I’d entertained his clients until I was vomiting blood, worked on his documents until I collapsed from exhaustion and ended up in the hospital.
And I never complained. Not once.
Because I truly loved him. All I wanted was to see him happy.
Every night, he would bring me water, massage my tired feet, his eyes filled with what I thought was genuine concern for the toll my work was taking. I was so lost in the sweetness of it all, I never saw the truth.
It was all a lie.
That banquet two years ago… when that investor groped me, Julian’s face had turned to stone, but he did nothing. I thought he was enduring the humiliation for the sake of the deal. Now I realized he simply didn't think a gold digger like me was worth offending a powerful man over.
My lips trembled. I fought back the searing pain in my heart and turned to leave. But Rosalind's voice, sharp with surprise, cut through the air.
"Tia? What a coincidence. You're at the airport too."

2
Julian whipped his head around. When his eyes met mine, a flicker of panic crossed his handsome face. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a series of texts.
What are you doing here? Are you following me?
Go home. Now. Before I lose my temper.
I stared at the messages popping up on the screen, a wave of bitter absurdity washing over me. For years, whenever his "selective mutism" flared up, this was how we communicated. He would point to his phone, and I would read his words.
Three years. Tens of thousands of messages.
My phone's memory had filled up again and again, but I could never bring myself to delete them. I thought they were our special memories, a testament to our love.
Now I saw them for what they were: proof he had never loved me at all.
I pressed the power button, and the screen went dark.
Something inside me went dark with it.
I looked up at them, my voice surprisingly steady. "Since you can speak, why bother texting? Today was the day I was flying to Singapore to close that ten-billion-dollar deal. I wasn't following you."
I paused, letting my next words land with the weight they deserved. "I heard everything. I'm not feeling well. I won't be closing any deals today."
Rosalind’s face tightened with alarm. She rushed forward and grabbed my hand. "Tia, I know I'm Julian's ex, but you're his wife now. What you heard… we were just joking around. Don't misunderstand."
I yanked my hand away. She stumbled back dramatically, nearly falling.
Her eyes welled with tears as she looked at me, her voice trembling. "Tia, I was just trying to explain. Why did you have to push me so hard?"
It was a pathetic, transparent lie.
But Julian reacted instantly. His hand flew out, and the sharp crack of his palm against my cheek echoed in the terminal.
His face was a thunderous mask as he glared at me.
"Who gave you the right to touch her?"
My cheek burned. I looked up to see Julian shielding Rosalind, his eyes filled with a murderous rage directed entirely at me. My heart felt like it was being twisted by a serrated knife.
For some reason, my mind flashed back to my first year at the Astor Media network. I was being hazed by the senior staff, and it was Julian who stepped in to save me. He gave me resources, mentored me, and championed my rise to lead anchor.
When I was hurt, he was always there. When he was humiliated by the board and forced to face his father's wrath in the family study, I had thrown myself in front of him, taking the eighteen lashes from his father's cane that were meant for him. I still have the scars on my back.
That was the first time I ever saw him cry. He held me so tightly.
"Tia," he had whispered into my hair, "you're my woman. I'm supposed to protect you."
"Don't you ever do that again. You're more important than anything."
I had been so weak I couldn't move, but I hadn't felt the pain. I was drowning in the sweetness of his love.
Now, this one slap from him was a pain beyond endurance, a disappointment so profound it shattered me completely.
I closed my eyes. "Julian, I'm done being your fool."
"Since you love someone else, let's get a divorce."

3
His face was a canvas of shock, which quickly melted into a sneer.
"Don't play the victim, Tia. Of all the gold diggers out there, I chose you to be Mrs. Astor."
He took a step closer, his voice dripping with condescension. "I made you. From a nobody to the most famous financial anchor in the city. I gave you money, power, access. You got everything you ever wanted. So how exactly are you a fool?"
"And divorce?" He scoffed. "I decide when this is over. You don't have the right to even suggest it."
His arrogance was a physical blow, shattering what was left of my heart into dust.
I stared at him, forcing back the tears that burned my eyes.
"I really did love you, Julian."
"You think I faked my background because I'm a gold digger desperate to climb the social ladder. But I only did it so I could marry you."
The resources he gave me were just opportunities. I was the one who worked myself to the bone to seize them, not just for myself, but to help him, to make him happy.
But the truth didn't matter anymore.
A desolate smile touched my lips. "I'm willing to step aside. Just make it a clean break."
A flash of triumph lit Rosalind's eyes.
Julian, however, looked as if he'd been struck. His pupils constricted, and his lips twisted into a cruel smirk.
"Feelings, Tia? Does a gold digger even have those? Still spewing lies at a time like this. It's pathetic."
"Don't worry," he added, his voice like ice. "We'll be divorced in three days. At most."
I didn't argue. I went straight back to the Astor mansion. For three years, my in-laws had been nothing but kind to me, and I had deceived them. The guilt was crushing.
I confessed everything. "Mr. and Mrs. Astor, I'm so sorry. My parents aren't university professors. They're just ordinary people. My high-society identity was a lie from the very beginning. Scold me, punish me… I'll accept whatever you decide."
Mrs. Astor simply stared for a moment, then took my hand in hers, her grip firm and warm.
"Silly girl," she said softly. "We knew you were faking it from the day we met you."
"Then why…?" I choked, unable to finish the sentence.
Mr. Astor spoke, his voice calm and steady. "Because aside from your background, you were flawless."
"It's true," his wife added. "We saw how you cared for Julian, how you dedicated yourself to this family. We saw your kindness, your brilliance. In these three years, we've come to think of you as our own daughter. Do you really think we care where you came from?"
Tears streamed down my face. I tried to smile through them. "But… Julian has never loved me. Rosalind is back, and he's going to marry her. I've already agreed to the divorce. I'll pack my things tonight and be gone."
The warmth drained from their faces, but they didn't try to stop me.
"Child," Mr. Astor said, his voice grave, "we know our son. If he has made a terrible mistake, do not spare him on our account. You teach him the lesson he deserves. And remember this: we can live without a son, but we cannot live without you."
I cried in their arms for a long time before finally going up to my room. My eyes fell on our wedding photos, on all the relics of our "sweet" past, and my mind drifted.
Just then, Leo walked in with a glass of orange juice.
"Grandma and Grandpa said you were sad today. I brought this to cheer you up."
I looked at the five-year-old boy. He was the spitting image of Rosalind. How had I never seen it before? Still, I had helped raise him for years. It would be rude to refuse his farewell gift.
"You should be happy more often," he said, his tone oddly adult. "Don't always look so serious."
I took the glass and drank. The taste was… wrong.
Suddenly, Leo burst out laughing, a triumphant, ugly sound.
"How does dog piss taste, you bitch? You think you can seduce my dad just because you're pretty? Shameless!"
His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't think I don't know Julian is my real dad! Now my mom is back, and you can get the hell out!"
My stomach heaved. I scrambled to the bathroom and retched until there was nothing left.
When I stumbled out, Leo was waiting by the door. He shoved me, hard.
Caught off guard, I tumbled backward down the grand staircase. My head cracked against a marble step, and a warm rush of blood instantly matted my hair.
"You stupid bitch," he sneered, "I'll make Grandpa and Grandma hate you. Then they'll have to love my mom."
Pain exploded through my body. Through a blurry haze, I saw Leo smear my blood on his own forehead and then start screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Help! Tia's hitting me! She's hitting me!"
"Tia!" Julian was suddenly there, I don't know when he'd returned. He scooped Leo into his arms.
His eyes were terrifyingly sharp. "You'd take your anger out on a child? When did you become so vicious?"
I lay on the floor, the pool of my own blood spreading around me, unable to move.
"I… didn't."
Leo's wails grew louder. "She started picking on me the second she got home! She said she hates me! Uncle Julian, it hurts!"
"It's okay, Leo, I've got you. I'm taking you to the hospital." Julian soothed the boy, then shot me a look of pure disgust.
"You're a grown woman. Can't you get up on your own? Or is this another pity play to win my forgiveness?"
With that, he turned and rushed out the door with Leo in his arms.
I watched him go, the pain in my heart eclipsing the pain in my head. A few years ago, when I had collapsed from exhaustion, he had raced me to the hospital, terrified I wouldn't be okay.
Now, I was lying in a pool of my own blood, and he didn't care. He thought I was acting.
So this is what it feels like when your heart dies.

4
When I regained consciousness, Julian was on the phone.
His voice was soft. "Rosalind, don't worry. Leo's fine."
Rosalind's voice was shrill even through the receiver. "I'll make Tia pay for this!"
Julian sighed. "Let it go. She was hurt badly. She was unconscious for a whole day."
He lowered his voice. "The succession gala is the day after tomorrow. That's when I'll do it. I'll bring her beggar parents on stage and expose her for the fraud she is. Once she and her trash family are gone, the three of us can finally be together. So don't be angry, okay?"
He hung up and reached out to touch my forehead, his eyes softening with a flicker of something that looked like gentleness.
I opened my eyes and jerked my head away.
He froze. There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept, but his handsome face quickly settled back into its familiar, cold mask.
"You're awake. The doctor said you have a fracture. Rest for the next two days. You need to accompany me to the gala. You can't be absent."
I closed my eyes.
I had already agreed to a divorce. Why did he still need to use me as a stepping stone? To humiliate me further, to continue paving the way for his true love?
The one who falls in love first always loses.
Seeing that I wasn't responding, he left without another word.
That afternoon, Rosalind paid me a visit.
Her eyes were filled with contempt. "You're tough, I'll give you that. My son pushes you down a flight of stairs, and all you get is a fracture. I guess beggars are built to last."
The pain from my injuries was a dull, constant throb. I didn't have the strength to fight back. I remained silent.
"I know all about the stupid things you did to win him over," she continued, her voice dripping with condescension. "Staying up all night embroidering his favorite cartoon character on a pillow just to coax him into taking his cold medicine. Pathetic. And for what? He only loves me."
When I still didn't speak, a flicker of annoyance crossed her face. She pulled a thick stack of papers from her designer handbag and threw them onto my bed.
"It's not just my son who loves me. Julian loves me more than anything. Every single night, after you were asleep, he was on a video call with me."
"This," she said, gesturing to the papers, "is our chat history. Eight hundred pages. From the day you got married, he has never missed a single night of telling me, 'Goodnight, I love you, wifey'."
"For three years, he never once thought of you as his wife! You were always just a pawn."
I stared at the pages scattered across the white bedsheets.
Even though my heart was already dead, even though I knew our three-year dream was a lie, I never imagined this. That they had never lost contact. A single glance at the pages revealed the depth of his devotion to her.
I felt like I was submerged in ice water, the cold and pain making it impossible to breathe.
Rosalind seemed pleased with my reaction. She pressed her advantage.
"Surprised? He loves me so much he was willing to fake an illness for three years. He loves me so much he was willing to touch you, a disgusting beggar girl!"
Her voice turned venomous. "He told me every time he touched you, he had to shower for hours afterward just to feel clean enough to sleep."
"Enough!" I shrieked, my body shaking uncontrollably. I screamed for the nurse to get her out.
"Worthless beggar," Rosalind sneered as she was escorted out. "On the day of the succession, you and your whole family can go crawl back to the gutter where you belong."
She turned, her heels clicking smartly on the polished floor as she left.
I collapsed back onto the pillows, closing my eyes in despair.
A few seconds later, I picked up my phone and dialed my secretary.
"On the day of the Astor succession gala," I said, my voice cold and clear, "initiate a full short sale on Astor Corp."
I had been weak because I loved Julian Astor.
But he had forgotten who I was.
I was the woman who had clawed her way out of the slums. I was no fragile flower, easily crushed.
He didn't want a peaceful separation.
Fine. Then I would make sure he knew nothing but pain.

5
On the night of the gala, my parents arrived, dressed in elegant, well-fitting clothes, their movements hesitant and cautious.
"Look," a socialite sneered to her friend, "there they are. Tia's fake 'professor' parents. They're actually just beggars."
A wave of suppressed laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Look at their hands. So wrinkled and rough. You can tell they've spent their lives in filth."
"They don't even know how to stand properly. I can smell the poverty from here."
"I can't believe Mr. Astor put up with it for three years. He told us all to be here tonight to give them a proper humiliation and welcome Ms. Wright. When he arrives, we really have to put on a show!"
My parents must have overheard some of the whispers. Their faces grew tighter with shame, but they tried not to show it.
My father, trying to imitate the other guests, reached for a glass of champagne. But his hands, covered in calluses and cracked skin, were a stark, jarring contrast to the delicate, crystal flute. The waiter's disdainful glance was like a physical burn, and he snatched his hand back.
My mother's eyes lingered on the exquisite pastries on the buffet table, and she swallowed unconsciously. The gesture immediately drew a sharp laugh from a nearby heiress.
"Has she been reincarnated from a starving ghost? It's like she hasn't eaten in a century. I feel like I'm catching the stench of poverty just by being in the same room."
My mother's face flushed a deep crimson. She looked down at the floor like a scolded child.
Watching them, I felt as if a thousand needles were being driven into my heart, over and over again. My parents had lived a life of hardship, but they had always given me their best. And now, because of my foolish pursuit of a lie, they were being flayed alive in this glittering palace of cruelty.
They didn't understand the rules of this world, but they remembered the roles I had asked them to play, and they were trying so desperately to protect their daughter's fragile dignity.
My fists clenched. Finally, Julian arrived, with Rosalind on his arm, the picture of a king and his queen.
I walked straight through the sea of mocking eyes and stopped in front of him. He gave me a cold look, and just as he was about to speak, I threw two documents at his chest.
"Sign the divorce papers. After this, you and I are done."
One was our divorce agreement.
The other was a paternity test. It proved, conclusively, that Julian Astor and Leo had no biological relationship.
The room erupted in shocked gasps.
As Julian stared at the papers, his face a mask of disbelief, I turned, took my parents and his own parents by the arm, and walked out of that disgusting hall with my head held high.
"Tia! What is the meaning of this? Stop right there!" Julian's face was dark with fury. He started to follow, but his phone began to ring, then ring again, a frantic, incessant sound that stopped him in his tracks.
He answered it, roaring, "What?"
The voice on the other end was hysterical. "Mr. Astor, it's a catastrophe! The company's stock is in freefall! Someone initiated a massive short sale! We're about to go bankrupt!"
"And the one who did it… it was your wife, Ms. Tia Wright!"

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