At dinner, my husband Julian suddenly spoke up. “Don’t you think,” he began, his fork hovering over his plate, “that our new housekeeper is in a rather tragic situation?” I looked up from my meal. “What do you mean?” He frowned slightly, a troubled look in his eyes. “You haven’t noticed? She’s a single mother with five sons. Her father’s a gambling addict, and her mother has cancer.” My eyes drifted to Phoebe, who was currently bent over, mopping the floor in a short maid’s uniform and black stockings. Before I could respond, Julian cleared his throat. “I was thinking of giving her a raise. Say, twenty thousand a month.” He continued, gaining momentum, “And a three-month bonus at the end of the year. A four-day work week, premium health and dental for her entire family, plus a 401(k).” He laid it all out in a single breath, then looked at me with grave importance. “That way, she can support her family and focus on her work here without any distractions.” I set down my fork and dabbed my lips with a napkin, my movements slow and deliberate. “Let’s just fire her,” I said coolly. “Anyone overhearing you might think you’re setting up a kept woman. Don’t you think?” 1 “I most certainly do not!” His composure finally snapped. “Eleanor, what is with the snide remarks?” “As a woman,” he pressed on, his voice rising, “can’t you find an ounce of empathy for what Phoebe is going through?” I looked at Julian, a genuine laugh almost escaping me. “You’re the Director of my brother’s hospital, managing a staff of thousands. What’s your monthly salary? Does it even compare to the package you just proposed for her?” He faltered, then tried to pivot. “I’m talking about basic human compassion, Eleanor. Do you have any at all?” I shook my head without hesitation. “I’m not a saint.” As the future head of the Vance family corporation, compassion was a luxury I couldn’t afford. “Either she goes, or we get a divorce. Your choice.” I had laid it on the line. He had to understand I was giving him a chance to clean up his own mess. If I had to step in, he would lose everything. But instead, he slammed his hand on the table. “You want a divorce just because I want to give our housekeeper a raise?” he roared. “Is it because you paid for my medical degree and got me the job at your brother’s hospital? Am I destined to be beneath you for the rest of my life? As your husband, don’t I even have the right to decide a housekeeper’s salary?” Julian was always the picture of calm. Even when a distraught patient held a scalpel to his back, he hadn’t lost his cool. I stared at him. “So you choose her. Is that it?” His lips tightened into a thin line as he glared at me. Just then, Phoebe scurried over, her head bowed. “Ma’am,” she whispered, “I think… I think you’ve misunderstood things between me and Julian.” She called my husband by his first name. "Julian." “He’s so successful and handsome, like a movie star. Just being associated with him feels like I’m tainting his reputation. I’m a divorced mother of five. No man would ever want me. What could they possibly see in me?” Her low-cut uniform showcased her generous cleavage, and the black stockings hugged her long, slender legs. I thought of the out-of-place pillow in Julian’s study. The anime maid printed on it was a dead ringer for Phoebe. And his phone wallpaper, the one he’d had for years… it was an animated version of her, wasn’t it? A cold smile touched my lips. I looked at Julian. “Phoebe’s asking what you see in her,” I said. “Let me guess. Is it her great figure and pretty face? Or maybe this whole pathetic, damsel-in-distress act?” I paused, letting the silence hang in the air. “Or is it the five sons? You’ve always wanted a son, haven’t you? Can’t have one of your own, so you figured you’d try playing daddy without any of the hard work?” “Eleanor!” Julian shot a panicked glance at Phoebe before rushing over to cover my mouth, his fingers digging into my cheeks. “I have azoospermia,” he hissed. “Do you have to broadcast it to the entire world?” I shoved him away, my laugh sharp with irony. “What are you afraid of? That Phoebe will find out and be disgusted by you?” He averted his eyes. “It’s a private matter between a husband and wife. It’s not appropriate to discuss it.” “Besides,” he added quickly, “didn’t you arrange for that top specialist to fly in for me? I’m sure it can be fixed. We’ll have our own children. Why would I need someone else’s?” As if on cue, Phoebe spoke up, her voice a mask of innocence. “Well… all my friends say I’m just incredibly fertile. I don’t really know what they mean by it.” “But I have five sons—one set of twins and one set of triplets. Even I think it’s pretty amazing.” A faint blush colored her cheeks. “I always think that… with me… even if a husband had… issues… he could probably still have a baby.” A flash of something—hope? excitement?—lit up Julian’s eyes before he suppressed it. He stiffly put an arm around my waist, creating a deliberate distance between himself and Phoebe. “Phoebe, don’t say things like that again,” he said sternly. “Even without children, Eleanor is the only wife I will ever have.” The way he said it… it sounded like I was the one who was barren. As if with Phoebe, he would have no problem at all. A wave of nausea washed over me. Just two weeks ago, I had flown halfway across the world to consult with that specialist for him. And while I was gone, he had secretly moved Phoebe into our home. When I’d returned, she was serving burnt, inedible dishes for dinner. Julian, normally so picky about his food, had devoured three bowls of rice. The vintage sapphire earrings he’d won at auction—the ones I thought were for my birthday—were now dangling from Phoebe’s ears. And every night, he would wait until I was asleep before coming to bed, as if he couldn’t bear for me to touch him. I took a deep breath and pointed at Phoebe. “Julian, I’m asking you one last time. Are you sure you want to keep her here?” He pushed me away, his patience gone. “Are we still on this? I already told you my position! Why do you have to keep making baseless accusations and causing drama? Do you enjoy grinding my dignity into the dirt?” The push sent me stumbling back against the staircase railing. A sharp pain shot through my lower back, and I gasped, unable to straighten up. Julian rolled his eyes and came over to pull me up. “Oh, stop it. Don’t play the victim. The fragile damsel act doesn’t suit you. You didn’t earn your ‘tough girl’ reputation for nothing.” In college, he was walking me back to my dorm when a heavy ceramic planter fell from a window ledge above. Without thinking, I shoved him out of the way, taking the full impact on my head. I’d laughed and told him I was fine. I ended up with five stitches and a new nickname. Now, he used it as an insult. I flinched away from his hand. “Don’t touch me. You’re filthy.” His face hardened, his hands balling into fists. “You’re just determined to be impossible today, aren’t you?” “I’ve said what I needed to say. It’s her or me.” With that, I turned and walked upstairs. Julian started to follow, but Phoebe let out a small, choked sob. “I get it. No one’s ever liked me. Everyone says I’m slow and stupid. They all look down on me.” Her voice was a pathetic whimper. “That’s why my ex-husband left me to raise five boys all by myself. My dad hits me when he loses at poker, and my sick mom calls me worthless when she’s in a bad mood. Even my own children say I’m useless.” “And now… now even the ma’am hates me. You and her are fighting, getting a divorce, all because of me. Maybe I should just die.” She turned and made a show of running towards the wall. Julian lunged, grabbing her just in time. The pity in his eyes was so thick it was practically dripping. “Phoebe, don’t. I’ve never looked down on you.” “You’re not slow,” he soothed. “You’re… you’re adorable.” Phoebe’s tears magically vanished, replaced by a tentative smile. “Really?” Julian reached out and stroked her hair, raising his voice so I could hear him from the top of the stairs. “Of course. Not like some people, who walk around with a permanent scowl, all business and no warmth. There’s nothing feminine about them. Who could ever love someone like that?” Phoebe let out a little giggle and shot a glance in my direction. “Julian, that sounds a little bit like the ma’am.” “The first time I met her, she was in a pantsuit with her hair pulled back so tight… I almost called her ‘sir’.” Julian laughed along with her. “Here’s a little secret,” he whispered conspiratorially. “The staff at the hospital call her ‘The Warden’ behind her back.” My feet froze on the stairs. My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to break free. I snatched a vase from a nearby table and hurled it down at them. “Julian, get your whore out of my house!” “Ah!” Phoebe shrieked. Julian instantly threw himself in front of her, shielding her with his body. The vase shattered against his back. His first instinct, however, was to steady Phoebe, making sure she didn't fall. “Eleanor! Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with!” he spun around, his eyes red-rimmed and furious. “I have no family connections, no background, and I can’t even give you a child! So go ahead, hit me, scream at me, belittle me all you want! I don’t care! But leave innocent people out of it!” “Phoebe is the kindest, most genuine woman I have ever met! She’s only working as a housekeeper to support her family. She has a bachelor’s degree, for God’s sake! She could have a much better job!” He grew more agitated with every word, his voice turning to ice. “In my eyes, a useless, silver-spoon princess like you isn’t fit to touch the hem of her garment!” Every word was a knife, every sentence drew blood. He had no family, no background, and he was sterile. I had defied my parents, ignored all the warnings, and married him anyway. The price was that within two years, I had to double the family company’s profits. For those two years, I never had a full night’s sleep. I worked myself to the bone, living and breathing the business. I became the man he never was. And I did it. I succeeded. And now he was telling me I looked down on him. That I was useless. That I was a joke he and his mistress could laugh about together. Something inside me snapped. I stormed into his study and slashed the anime maid pillow to ribbons. I grabbed everything within reach—picture frames, potted plants, the desk lamp—and threw them at them. He shielded Phoebe, easily dodging the projectiles. “Eleanor, I am sick of living like a guest in the Vance family’s shadow! I am a capable man! I am the youngest hospital director in this country!” he yelled. “Did you really think I needed to grovel for a job at your brother’s hospital? Let me tell you, I’ve had offers from top institutions begging me to join them!” “If you keep acting like a lunatic, then fine! Let’s get a divorce! You’ll be the one who regrets it!” I gripped the railing, my knuckles white, steadying myself. “Fine by me!” Phoebe trembled in his arms. “Julian, couples fight. The ma’am has a difficult personality, but if you just put up with it, it will pass.” “Being a divorced woman is hard,” she whimpered. “People look down on you… like they do with me.” Julian scoffed, not even bothering to look at me. “I don’t care what happens to her. She brought this on herself. Not every woman deserves to be cherished.” A profound, soul-crushing exhaustion washed over me. I let go of the railing and silently continued up the stairs. Julian stared after me, as if he hadn't expected me to just walk away. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face, and he opened his mouth to call out to me. But then Phoebe’s phone rang. “What? Noah has a fever?” “Okay, okay, I’m on my way to the hospital right now.” She hung up, her eyes wide with panic. “Julian, Noah has a 104-degree fever. What do I do?” The color drained from Julian’s face. “Noah? But he was fine at the amusement park yesterday.” “I’ll go with you,” he said without a second thought. I listened as the front door slammed shut behind them. My legs finally gave out, and I crumpled to the floor. His relationship with Phoebe had progressed to taking her children to amusement parks? Or was it possible… that one of those children was also his? The thought was a venomous bite. I dug my teeth into my lower lip until I tasted blood and dialed my brother’s number. “Marcus, I need you to run a background check. On Julian and a woman named Phoebe Lane.” “A check? What for? Is he cheating on you?” “I think he might have an illegitimate child.” My brother gasped. “Are you sure? I thought he couldn’t…” All the strength drained out of me, and my throat felt tight. “Phoebe says she’s… incredibly fertile.” Even as I said the words, they sounded ridiculous. A claim with no scientific basis, yet it settled in my stomach like a lead weight. “Marcus,” I continued, my voice flat, “the hospital director position is up for review every five years. It’s time for Julian to step down.” “The hospital has been losing money for years under his leadership. That performance clause in his contract… is the penalty high enough to bankrupt him?” There was a pause on the other end. “Ellie,” Marcus asked gently, “are you okay?” No. I was not okay. My heart felt like it was being slowly flayed. But I could not tolerate even a hint of impurity in my love. If I found it, I would grind it to dust. “Marcus, find me the best divorce lawyer you know. I want Julian to walk away with nothing. I know it’ll be difficult.” In our world, prenups were standard. But I hadn't made Julian sign one. I had believed he wasn’t with me for the money. I had believed he would never betray me. How naive I’d been. After I’d made the calls, a message from Julian appeared on my phone. Eleanor, everything I said earlier… I was just angry. Please don’t take it to heart. Noah has pneumonia. I have to stay at the hospital with him tonight. I really want to come home, but he’s only four and he won’t let go of my hand. I just can’t bring myself to leave him. I typed back a swift reply. I don’t care. Pack your things tomorrow. I want you out of my house. A single, large question mark appeared in response. Eleanor, are you really going to push me to this? Are you trying to shove me into another woman’s arms? Fine. You win. I paused, then typed one last message. On our wedding day, I told you that if you ever betrayed me, you would lose everything. Do you remember? It was at our wedding. He had gently lifted my veil, his eyes shining like a whole galaxy of stars, and promised me, “There will be no betrayal. Not until the day I die.” And now? A cold, red exclamation point appeared on the screen. He had blocked me.
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