No Longer Your Unpaid Wife

Even after eight years of marriage to William, I was still a ghost in his family home, forbidden from sitting at the dining table.

It was all because of a promise he had made to his deceased fiance, Victoria. He had sworn that the seat of the matriarch of the family would eternally belong to her.

During his fathers sixtieth birthday gala at the country club, a hurried waiter bumped into me. I stumbled, losing my balance, and landed right in the empty chair that had been meticulously reserved for Victoria.

Williams face instantly darkened. He marched over, grabbed my arm with bruising force, and yanked me out of the seat.

"How can you be so calculating?" he hissed, his voice low but sharp enough for the surrounding guests to hear. "Deliberately sitting in Victorias chair in front of everyoneare you really that desperate to replace her?"

"Why are you trying to compete with a dead woman?" his mother added, her eyes cold with disdain. "Check your jealousy, Isabel. Its pathetic."

His father joined in, calling me shameless and telling me to get out of the venue immediately.

I stood there, blinking back tears, trying to ignore the sharp, throbbing pain in my sprained ankle. I opened my mouth to explain, but my eight-year-old son, Toby, cut me off, his little face twisted in embarrassment.

"You're so embarrassing, Mom," Toby spat, looking at me with pure disgust. "If Victoria were here, she would never stoop to your level. I wish she were my real mother."

That night, William locked me in the windowless basement study. Through the heavy wooden door, I could hear him introducing Victorias memory to the guests as his one true wife. Later, I heard Toby telling a family friend that I was nothing more than his nanny.

Something inside me went cold. The final ember of my warmth died out.

When William finally opened the door the next morning, he looked down at me, his expression a mixture of irritation and cold charity.

"You went too far last night," he said. "Go to Victorias grave. Stay there and reflect on what you did."

He thrust a bouquet into my arms. It was yellow chrysanthemumsVictorias favorite, but the one flower that triggered my severe pollen allergy. The last time I was near them, I had gone into anaphylactic shock.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I simply looked at him, my voice flat and empty.

"William, let's get a divorce."

William froze. Then, a mocking laugh escaped his lips.

"All this because I made you spend one night in the study? You really are made of glass, aren't you?"

He stepped closer, his shadow looming over me. "Victoria and I were betrothed since childhood. She is the only daughter-in-law my parents will ever recognize. Even if you carved your name onto that chair, you couldn't change that. I'm telling you this for your own good, Isabel. You need to know your place."

I had heard variations of this speech a thousand times over the last eight years.

In the past, because of my love for him and my devotion to Toby, I had swallowed every insult. I told myself that the dead deserved respect, and so I let myself be pushed into the shadows. But my silence had only invited more cruelty.

This time, I was done retreating.

I threw the bouquet of chrysanthemums onto the floor. The yellow petals scattered across the cold hardwood. I looked up and met his eyes.

"If she was so irreplaceable, why did you marry me? Why did you have a child with me? Why didn't you just remain celibate for the rest of your life to honor her?" I asked, my voice rising. "The truth is, your grand, tragic love is a sham. Its completely worthless."

The air in the room seemed to solidify. Williams face turned an ugly, dangerous shade of red.

"Isabel, you are being utterly irrational." He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. "I know how much you've done for this family over the years. I see it. If you just go to Victorias grave, kneel, and apologize, I will finally arrange a proper wedding. We can make our marriage public."

There it was again. That patronizing, charitable tone.

When we first spoke of marriage, I knew Victoria was an insurmountable mountain in his parents' minds. They refused to accept any other woman. So, William and I agreed to a private commitment ceremony, keeping our union a secret until his parents came around.

For eight years, I woke up before dawn to prepare three meals a day. I cleaned, I ironed, I managed the household like an unpaid servant, all to prove that I was worthy.

But every time I brought up a legal marriage or a public wedding, William had an excuse ready.

Im too busy with the firm right now. Lets talk about it later.

My parents still grieve for Victoria. Youve only been here a few yearsyou can't expect them to change overnight. Just wait.

Why are you so materialistic? Are you that desperate to show everyone you married into wealth?

So I waited. I waited until the hope in my chest dried up and turned to dust.

And now, when I no longer cared, he was offering it to me like a treat thrown to a dog.

"I don't want a wedding," I said, my throat tight, the first waves of the allergy beginning to make my eyes itch. "Just give me the divorce. I'll have the paperwork ready."

Without waiting for his response, I brushed past him and walked out.

But as I hurried down the hallway, the itching in my eyes grew unbearable. Red, angry hives began to bloom across my arms, itching fiercely. The pollen from the chrysanthemums had already done its work.

I rushed into the living room and grabbed the medical kit from the shelf, desperately searching for my antihistamines.

Just as I managed to pop the blister pack, a violent force shoved me from behind. I crashed onto the floor, my temple striking the sharp edge of the coffee table. A blinding pain shot through my skull.

I looked up, clutching my bleeding forehead, and saw Toby standing over me. His small face was twisted in disgust.

"Are you blind?" Toby yelled, pointing at the table. "You put that stupid medical kit right on top of Victorias handkerchief!"

"You're so clumsy and malicious. How did someone like you give birth to me? Its humiliating."

Dizzy and shivering, I looked down. Beneath the plastic box was a small yellow silk handkerchief. It was Victorias. William had given it to Toby as a keepsake, and Toby treated it like holy relic, forbidding anyoneespecially mefrom touching it.

My eyes were swelling shut, and my vision was tunneling. I could barely see the pills in my hand, let alone a tiny handkerchief on a cluttered table.

But Toby didn't care about my pain. He carefully picked up the handkerchief, blew the nonexistent dust off it, and then snatched the packet of allergy pills from my trembling fingers.

"Victoria is gone, and you still try to ruin everything she left behind," the boy said coldly. "You need to learn a lesson."

With a vicious flick of his wrist, he threw my medication out the open window, deep into the thick, thorny hydrangea bushes below.

"No..." I gasped, curling into a ball on the floor, my fingers desperately clawing at my burning, itching skin.

Toby didn't even look back as he strolled out of the room.

Watching his small, retreating back, a tear slipped down my cheek, hot against my swollen skin.

Toby hadn't always hated me.

When he was two, he was a deeply insecure child. He cried whenever anyone else tried to hold him. Once, when William tried to pick him up, Toby had scratched his father's face until it bled. Back then, I was his entire world. He wouldn't let anyone hurt me.

On our fifth anniversary, William stood me up to go to an auction to buy a rare collection of sketches Victoria had loved. Toby had gone on a hunger strike for an entire week, demanding his father apologize to me.

But Williams parents blamed me for "corrupting" the boy. They forcibly took Toby away to their estate and barred me from seeing him.

I knelt outside their iron gates for three days and three nights in the rain. Finally, they relented, allowing me to visit Toby once a month, for no more than ten minutes at a time.

Over those isolated years, Tobys love for me faded, replaced by a carefully manufactured devotion to a woman he had never met.

The anaphylactic reaction was peaking. My throat felt as though it were closing, and my consciousness began to slip away.

Through the haze, a muffled, frantic voice echoed in my ears.

"Isabel!"

Before darkness took me, I saw a flash of sheer terror on William's face.

When I opened my eyes, the stark white ceiling of a hospital room came into focus.

The room was empty, but the door was slightly ajar. From the hallway, familiar voices drifted in, their words sharp and clear.

"If she wants a divorce, let her leave," my mother-in-law said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Its not like your marriage certificate is real anyway. She can't touch a single penny of our estate."

My heart stopped.

"Shes just throwing a tantrum to force your hand for a wedding," she continued. "Delusional girl. A charity case from the slums thinks she deserves to carry our family name?"

Williams father chimed in, patting his son on the shoulder. "I've seen her type a thousand times. Shes social climber. We tested her for eight years, and she still couldn't control her greed. You should have thrown her out long ago."

William was silent for a long moment. "I know," he said quietly. "You don't need to worry about this. I'll handle her."

It felt as though a bolt of lightning had struck my chest. The blood in my veins turned to ice.

For eight years, I had worked myself to the bone for this family. I had believed that even if his parents despised me, Williams love for me was real.

But it was all a lie. Our marriage wasn't even legal.

He had exploited my body, my heart, and my labor for nearly a decade, and I had absolutely nothing to show for it.

Rage, pure and hot, surged through me. I pulled the IV line from my hand, swung my legs out of bed, and threw the door open.

"How could you do this to me?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mixture of fury and betrayal.

The three of them jumped, their faces turning pale and awkward.

Williams eyes flickered with a brief flash of guilt before hardening into his usual mask of irritation. "Why are you out of bed? Were you eavesdropping? Is that how you behave now?"

I let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Are you angry because I finally know the truth?"

"Ten years, William. We knew each other for ten years. We lived together for eight. I never even asked you for a ring. How could you play with my life like this? What did I ever do to deserve this?"

William frowned, his voice dropping into a cold, defensive tone. "You brought this on yourself. When we were supposed to get married, you made a scene. My parents were worried that if we registered the marriage immediately, you would become arrogant and tarnish our familys reputation. It was a precaution."

His words dragged me back to my twenty-first birthday.

William had promised me a beautiful birthday dinner. But when I arrived at the venue, the party had been transformed into a somber memorial service for Victoria.

The balloons I had spent hours picking out were popped. The banner wishing me a happy birthday was shredded in the corner. My cake had been tossed into the trash.

His parents had screamed at me: You haven't even married into this family and you're already trying to assert dominance? Today is Victorias death anniversary! How dare you celebrate your birthday on this day?

Kneel and apologize to Victoria, or you will never enter our doors!

I had never felt so humiliated. I broke up with William on the spot.

But he pursued me relentlessly for six months, begging for forgiveness, promising he would protect me. Foolishly, I believed him. I agreed to a private ceremony, thinking he was standing by my side against his parents.

Now I realized the chase hadn't been about love. It had been about control. It was a punishment.

"If you had just apologized to Victoria back then, none of this would have happened," William said, looking down his nose at me. "You publicly embarrassed my parents. This was your consequence."

"But now that you know, we can put it behind us. Once you're discharged, we will go and register the marriage properly."

Slap.

My hand struck his cheek before he could finish the sentence. The sound echoed down the sterile hallway.

"You disgust me," I whispered. "I will never sign a single piece of paper with you. We are finished."

Williams expression darkened, his jaw tightening. "Are you serious? If you walk away, you will never get custody of Toby."

I looked him dead in the eye, my voice devoid of emotion. "A child who doesn't love me? You can keep him."

Without another word, I turned and walked toward the exit.

I took a cab back to the house to pack. Behind me, the sound of hurried footsteps followed. William had chased me all the way from the hospital.

Ignoring him, I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. But as I reached the living room, I froze.

A young woman was sitting gracefully on the sofa, sipping tea.

When she saw me, she offered a sweet, practiced smile.

"Hello," she said softly. "Im Victoria. William's fiance."

William pushed past me, his eyes wide, his entire body trembling as he stared at the woman on the couch.

"Victoria... is it really you?"

Victorias eyes welled with tears. Before she could speak, Toby ran out from the kitchen, throwing his arms around her waist.

"Yes, Dad! Victoria isn't dead! She's back!"

Toby looked at me, his eyes flashing with triumph. "Shes even prettier than her pictures. No wonder you don't love Mom. I wouldn't either if I had Victoria."

My hands clenched into fists, the nails biting into my palms. My heart felt as though it were being slowly torn to pieces.

Victoria looked up at me, her gaze lingering on my faded clothes. "And this is...?"

William cleared his throat, his eyes darting away from mine. "Just... someone who helped take care of the house. To keep things running."

He paused, casting a quick glance at me to gauge my reaction. When I remained silent, he let out a subtle sigh of relief.

Victoria let out a soft gasp of feigned realization. "Oh, I see. I honestly thought she was the housekeeper."

The words felt like physical blows.

Victorias skin was flawless, her long dark hair falling like silk over her shoulders. She looked like a painting. I, on the other hand, was three years younger than her, but years of sleepless nights, endless chores, and emotional neglect had left my skin dull and my eyes hollow.

Standing next to her, I looked like a servant. No wonder his family always said I couldn't compare to a single hair on her head.

Victoria looked at me with a flicker of smug satisfaction before turning back to William, her expression melting into delicate sorrow.

"I'm so sorry, William. I didn't mean to disrupt your life," she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I just wanted to see you. After the traffickers took me all those years ago, I managed to escape, but the trauma caused me to lose my memory. I lived in a remote mountain village, completely lost. As soon as my memories returned, I ran to find you... I didn't know you had moved on."

Williams face filled with a deep, consuming tenderness. He reached out, gently wiping her tears away.

"It doesn't matter," he murmured. "As long as you're back, the place of the mistress of this house is yours. It always has been."

Victoria blinked in surprise. "But... what about her?"

William hesitated, but before he could speak, I stepped forward.

"We aren't married," I said, my voice steady. "He is single. You don't need to worry about me."

William looked at me, stunned by my coldness.

I ignored him, walked upstairs, and began packing my suitcase.

Thirty minutes later, I dragged my bag down the stairs, only to find Victoria standing at the landing, blocking my path.

The sweet, victimized look was gone, replaced by a cold, mocking sneer.

"You're smarter than I thought, knowing when you've lost," she whispered. "But I still don't like the fact that you lived in my house for eight years, sleeping in my bed. That belonged to me. I think you owe me some interest."

Before I could react, she reached over to the hallway table, grabbed a heavy crystal vase, and threw it onto the hardwood floor. It shattered into a hundred jagged pieces.

Then, she fell to her knees, clutching her head, screaming in terror.

"No! Please, don't hurt me! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she wailed, shrinking into the corner. "Please don't hit me! I'm scared!"

Within seconds, a hand grabbed my shoulder and shoved me violently against the wall. William rushed past me, throwing his arms around Victoria.

"Victoria! I'm here, I'm here. You're safe."

Victoria sobbed hysterically, burying her face in his chest. "William, she... she hates me. She thinks I'm stealing you away. She knew about my trauma, she knew the sound of breaking glass triggers my memories of the traffickers... she threw the vase on purpose to torture me!"

I straightened up, rubbing my bruised shoulder. "I didn't touch it. Check the security cameras if you don't believe me."

Crack.

Before I could finish, Williams hand struck my face, sending me sprawling onto the floor.

He lunged forward, his hands wrapping around my neck, his eyes wild with rage. "You monstrous woman! Victoria barely survived that hell, and you dare to torment her? Do you think I won't kill you?"

Toby ran over, kicking my leg with all his might. "Bad woman! You don't deserve to be my mother! Go away and die!"

Looking at the two of themthe father and the son I had loved with every fiber of my beingI felt the last shred of my pain dissolve into numbness.

In eight years, they had never once defended me like this. I used to tell myself they were just emotionally detached, that it was their nature. But they weren't cold. They were capable of fierce, protective love.

They just didn't love me.

From the corner of the room, Victoria watched me, a tiny, triumphant smile playing on her lips.

I took a deep, steady breath, looking directly into Williams furious eyes.

"Go ahead then. Kill me," I said, my voice eerily calm. "But if you do, you'll never find out who Victoria really is."