The Mistress's Daughter

My mother was the mistress of a man who’d married into the Sterling dynasty. Which, of course, made me the mistress’s child. But she didn’t know the man was married until after I was born. The second his wife found out, the coward cut my mother off completely. After years of scraping by on scraps, my mother stormed the gates of the Sterling estate, brandishing a paternity test and causing a scene. To protect their precious reputation, the Sterlings took me in, passing me off as an adopted daughter. Then, when I was fifteen, the patriarch of the Pierce family came to visit. Grandpa Pierce took one look at me and decided I would be his granddaughter-in-law. And so, at twenty, I married Kael Pierce, a man with severe autism. I found myself on the same dead-end road as my mother. Only my situation was worse. I didn't have my mother-in-law's power or status; I had no way to fight back against my husband's new infatuation. All I could do was watch him fawn over another woman, right in front of me. But recently, I’ve decided to break free from it all. I’m sorry, Grandpa Pierce. Cora Sterling is done being your pawn. 1 The day I was sent to the Sterling estate was the day I lost my mother forever. She was crying, but she was smiling. "Cora, my sweet girl," she’d said, "you'll never have to go hungry again." She was so naive. My father saw me as a stain on his reputation. Mrs. Sterling despised me. The staff, ever the opportunists, followed their lead, treating me with cold indifference. As for my half-sisters, they invented new ways to torment me daily. But my mother would never know. Our meeting at the Sterling gates was the last time I ever saw her. She had late-stage cancer and couldn't afford the treatment. After handing me over to my father, she threw herself from a bridge. I grew up in the Sterling house as the "adopted" daughter, walking on eggshells every moment of every day. When I was fifteen, I met a boy on the estate grounds. A rose thorn had sliced his arm open, and blood was trickling down his skin, but he seemed completely oblivious, lost in the music playing through his headphones. I hesitated for a moment, then ran to get an antiseptic wipe and a Band-Aid for his wound. Later, I learned his name was Kael Pierce. He was visiting the Sterlings with his grandfather. For reasons I’ll never understand, Grandpa Pierce took a liking to me. He wanted me to be his grandson’s wife. The Pierces were old money, a dynasty in their own right, so my father eagerly agreed. When my sisters heard the news, they cornered me, their laughter sharp as glass. "You really think you've hit the jackpot? If he were such a great catch, do you think they'd ever let him go to you?" "That Kael Pierce has been autistic since he was a kid. He has violent mood swings. He's not even normal." But because of the engagement, Mrs. Sterling finally started treating me with a sliver of decency. Life at the Sterling estate became bearable. At least the daily torment stopped. I often thought about that quiet, slender boy in the garden. He had no idea that, in his own silent way, he had saved me. I was truly grateful to him. I started reading everything I could about his condition, trying to learn how I would one day be a good wife to him. And then, when I turned twenty, our families arranged the wedding, and I married Kael Pierce. 2 I had no idea how much Kael loathed the idea of marrying me. From the moment I moved in, he never gave me anything but icy glares. He couldn't stand my touch, let alone share a bed with me. On our wedding night, he exploded in our bridal suite. "Get away." "Don't be in my room." "Get out. Just get out!" I stood there, humiliated, my head bowed as a wave of shame washed over me. Later that night, Grandpa Pierce found me. He explained that Kael had always been withdrawn, that he struggled with human contact. His long-time nanny had just passed away, and his condition had worsened. He asked me to be patient, to give Kael time. I nodded and agreed. From that day on, I took over his care, juggling my college classes with my new duties at home. I made sure he took his medication on time, drove him to his doctor's appointments, planned his meals, and laid out his clothes. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Kael began to respond. He wasn't a block of wood, after all. He stopped telling me to "get out." He’d find me asleep on the couch and awkwardly drape a blanket over me. Once, when I had terrible cramps, he even made me a warm mug of tea. But he never, ever shared a bed with me. The Pierce family line was thin; Kael was the only male heir of his generation. Grandpa Pierce was desperate for a great-grandchild and pressured me constantly. But what could I do? He didn't want me. Finally, after five years of this, Grandpa Pierce lost his patience. Without my knowledge, he drugged Kael's drink. Then he led him to my bedroom, locked the door, and trapped us inside. I will never forget that night. The pain. It was a tearing, brutal pain. Drugged and disoriented, Kael moved on pure instinct, his eyes glazed over. He had no idea what he was doing, his movements clumsy and violent. I felt like I was being ripped apart, hot tears streaming down my face. Just before dawn, I finally blacked out from the pain. The next day, around noon, I woke to the sound of shattering glass. 3 Kael was in a blind rage. He’d smashed my phone, shattered the TV on the wall, and overturned tables and chairs. The room was a disaster zone. When he saw I was awake, he stalked over to me, holding a shard of a mirror. It reflected my own image back at me—I was still naked, my body covered in angry red marks and deep purple bruises. He pointed the mirror at me, his eyes filled with undisguised disgust. "You're so dirty. You're disgusting." "I hate you." "I never want to see you again." My body ached so badly that I could barely walk straight. But Kael had vanished in the middle of his episode. I had no choice but to go find him. I didn't stop to eat. I searched from noon until after midnight, checking every place he usually went. My legs were trembling uncontrollably, but I couldn't find him anywhere. Finally, defeated, I collapsed against our front door to catch my breath. At one in the morning, Kael finally returned. He wasn't alone. A girl stood beside him. A sweet dimple appeared in her cheek when she smiled. "I've never met anyone who gets me like you do," she said, looking up at him. "Meeting you was the best part of the concert." That's when I realized he'd gone to a concert by himself. His phone had died, and he couldn't remember the way home. The girl had brought him back. Kael walked slowly, stretching the short distance from the gate to the door. They talked about music, about composers and performers I’d never heard of. Music had always been Kael’s passion. He’d studied under world-renowned masters and had composed several famous pieces in his own studio. I stood by the door, listening in silence. They talked for a full thirty minutes, and Kael never once noticed I was there. Finally, our butler couldn't take it anymore. "Young Master," he said gently, "it's very late. You should go to bed. The missus has been waiting up for you." The girl’s eyes followed the sound of his voice and landed on me. She looked surprised. "Is this your wife?" she asked Kael. A flicker of shame crossed Kael's face. He hesitated, then gave a stiff nod. Then he quickly added, "It was arranged. I don't like her. I hate her." In that moment, I froze. A profound, inexplicable humiliation washed over me, and I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. The girl's name was Sylvia. She tugged on Kael’s sleeve, her eyes curving into crescents. "Well, it is getting late. I'll see you next time." From that day on, my relationship with Kael plunged back into the abyss. He refused to speak a single word to me. For his birthday, I gave him a new pair of high-end studio headphones. I’d heard the sound quality was phenomenal, and they were constantly sold out. I had to preorder them six months in advance. But Kael just took a lighter and, right in front of me, melted them into a mangled, plastic wreck. "I don't like you," he spat. "And I don't like your gifts. This is trash. I don't want it." He spent his birthday with Sylvia. They’d stayed in touch ever since they met. A few weeks ago, Sylvia had even started an internship at his studio. When he came home that night, he was wearing a simple silver ring on his finger. A birthday gift from her. I stared at the melted remains of the headphones scattered on the floor, an endless exhaustion settling deep in my bones. The next day, Grandpa Pierce called me to his study. He asked me to find a file and give it to his assistant, who was waiting at the door. But Kael had forbidden me from ever entering his study. I hesitated. Grandpa Pierce insisted. The file was urgent. Reluctantly, I went in, found the document, and made sure to leave everything exactly as I had found it. But Kael found out anyway. His phone was connected to the security camera in the study. He rushed home from his studio, his brow dark with a familiar, stormy rage. "You can't go in there! You're not allowed!" His anger was a palpable force, a hurricane contained within the room. Because I had stepped inside to grab a single file, he had the entire study professionally deep-cleaned from top to bottom. I stared at him, bewildered, and finally voiced the question that had been eating at me. "Why can't I go in?" Lately, Kael often invited Sylvia over. They would spend entire days in the study, discussing music. Why was she allowed, but not me? "And why have it cleaned? I'm not dirty." His face grew colder. "She's different from you. She understands music. She's a kindred spirit. You don't. Your presence... it taints the space." After all these years, I was used to his blunt, clipped way of speaking. I understood him perfectly. Normally, when he got like this, my first instinct was to soothe him. But that day, even knowing he was on the verge of an outburst, I couldn't bring myself to placate him. I closed my eyes. "Kael, that's a really cruel thing to say." Just then, my blood sugar plummeted, and I stumbled backward a step. But I was standing right in the doorway. The door was open. My foot landed just inside the study. Kael saw it as a direct challenge. His eyes were cold fire, the veins on his forehead pulsing. He unleashed a torrent of hateful words, which all boiled down to three sentences: "Get away from me!" "This is my house, not yours! Get the hell out!" "Don't ever show your face in my home again!" I’d heard those words before. My half-sisters used to say them to me when I first moved into the Sterling house. Back then, I’d just hide under my covers and cry, dreaming of a day I’d have a home of my own, a place no one could ever kick me out of. After getting married, I mistakenly believed this villa was my home. It wasn't a shelter from the storm, but at least it was a place I belonged. But today, he screamed at me, reminding me that the house was in his name, bought with his family's money. This was not my home. He wanted me gone. A wave of helplessness threatened to drown me. I lowered my head and did the math. It had been ten years since I first met Kael at fifteen. His engagement gave me five years of peace. In return, I gave him five years of my life, caring for him. Five years for five years. My debt to the Pierce family was paid. I was so tired of this life. I wanted a divorce. 4 Once the idea of divorce took root, it was like a seed that had finally broken through the soil, growing wild and unstoppable. A week later, I went to see Grandpa Pierce. I met him at the old family mansion and told him I wanted a divorce. He sat on the plush sofa, tapping his index finger on the polished wood of the coffee table. "Why?" I told him Kael was in love with someone else. A woman who could soothe his temper, who made him want to be gentle and kind. A woman he wrote songs for, bought gifts for, and stubbornly tried to please. With Sylvia around, Kael’s moods were more stable. By any measure, she was a better fit for him than I was. Grandpa Pierce listened without a word. After a long silence, he cleared his throat and looked at me seriously. "Cora, do you know why I chose you to be Kael’s wife all those years ago?" "Because I gave him a Band-Aid?" I guessed. He shook his head. "No. I had you investigated. I knew you had a good heart, and I knew about your… difficult situation at the Sterling house. You needed this marriage. With the Pierce name behind you, your life would become easier." "And because of that," he continued, "I knew you would cling to Kael like a lifeline. You would be grateful to him, patient with him, and you would tolerate his every whim." "When I heard you'd chosen to major in psychology in college, I knew I hadn't misjudged you. You did exactly as I expected." He sighed. "A boy from a family like ours, if he weren't ill, would be the most sought-after bachelor in the country. But he is ill." "He's my only grandson. Of course, I had to plan for his future, to find him a wife who would be absolutely loyal, who would take care of him for the rest of his life." "This Sylvia you speak of… I don't know her. I can't entrust Kael to a stranger." He looked me straight in the eye, laying his cards on the table. "Cora, you grew up around the Sterlings. You know what wealthy men are like. One woman on the side is nothing; ten is hardly surprising. Kael, by comparison, is fundamentally innocent. He doesn't fool around like other men. In that regard, you're quite lucky." "Besides," he added, "as long as I'm alive, no woman will ever threaten your position as Mrs. Pierce. What more could you possibly want?" I understood his logic, but I couldn’t bear the thought of spending the rest of my days trapped in that house, tending to a broken man, a life I could see stretched out before me, empty and unchanging. "Kael kicked me out," I told him, my voice firm. "My presence only agitates him now. His episodes are getting more and more frequent." At this, Grandpa Pierce’s expression finally grew somber. He began to seriously reconsider our situation. After a long pause, he relented slightly. "Cora, let me think about this divorce. You can go home for now. And remember, Kael is still your husband. We'll need his consent on this matter as well." I nodded and stood to leave. Kael would never disagree. He’d probably jump at the chance to sign the divorce papers. A light spring rain had started to fall, and a cold wind whipped through the air. As I was leaving the mansion, I saw him. He was standing by the half-open gate, dressed in a crisp white shirt, holding an umbrella. Rainwater pooled at the tip, dripping onto the ground. I had no idea how long he'd been standing there, or how much he'd heard. The moment he saw me, his lips pressed into a thin line, and the color drained from his face. "You're... divorcing me?" 5 When I confirmed it, Kael fell silent, his mind clearly racing. After a moment, he asked, "If we get divorced, will you still take care of me?" I was taken aback, then let out a hollow laugh. "Kael, that's what divorce means. We become strangers. I won't be your wife anymore, and I won't have any obligation to take care of you." "I see." The rain intensified, slanting sideways and soaking one of his shoulders. He looked me straight in the eye and shook his head. "No divorce." I honestly hadn't expected him to refuse. "Why?" "If we divorce, there's no one to take care of me." "You have Sylvia, don't you? She can look after you." But Kael just shook his head again, stubborn. "No. She's busy. She has her music. She can't be stuck at home all the time." He looked at me pointedly. "You're not busy. You can take care of me." I stared down at a puddle forming at my feet, a chilling cold spreading through my chest. In his mind, Sylvia had ambitions, and he couldn't bear to confine her. But me? The boring, uninspired woman he was saddled with? I was born to orbit around him. "Kael, if you need a caretaker, you can hire one. Mrs. Gable took good care of you before I came along, didn't she?" I tried to reason with him. But he was resolute. It had to be me. As we spoke, his hands clenched into tight fists, his nails digging so deep into his palms that they drew blood. It was the first sign of an episode. I didn't want to argue anymore. I turned and walked toward the house. He followed me, repeating the same two words over and over. "No divorce. No divorce." When I didn't respond, he started digging his nails deeper into his skin, his hands slick with blood. The Pierce family was wealthy beyond measure; hiring a caretaker was nothing. I couldn't understand his obsession. When I asked him why, he mumbled a single word. "Habit." "Habits can be changed," I told him. "You weren't used to me at first either, were you? Everything takes time. You'll get used to someone new." But when he got stubborn, he was worse than a mule. Seeing my refusal, he started shouting. "No! I said no! You have to listen to me!" I knew there was no point in arguing when he was like this, so I simply fell silent. He took my silence as agreement, and the tense lines of his brow finally softened. The moment he saw Sylvia waiting by the front door, his eyes lit up, and the issue of divorce was completely forgotten. He and Sylvia disappeared into the study. Before closing the door, Kael made a point of locking it, as if to keep intruders out. Soon, the sound of a piano drifted from the room, mingling with the bright, clear sound of a girl's laughter. It sounded so full of life. It was ten o'clock at night when Sylvia finally emerged. A torrential downpour was raging outside. Kael glanced at the storm and called out to her. "It's raining. You'll get sick." "Stay here tonight." Sylvia blinked, then smiled at him. "Silly, I don't have any pajamas. How can I stay?" Kael pointed at me. "She has some." "Well, we'll have to ask your wife if she's okay with me staying the night, and if she's willing to lend me her clothes," Sylvia said, her gaze shifting to me with a playful smile. But before I could answer, Kael spoke for me. "She's willing." A dimple appeared in Sylvia’s cheek as she feigned a pout. "How can you answer for someone else like that?" Kael gestured around the villa. "This is my house, not hers." Then he pointed toward the master closet. "Her clothes were bought with my family's money." "I have the final say." And so, Sylvia turned to me with a saccharine smile. "Well then, Mrs. Pierce, looks like I'm staying the night. I hope I won't be interrupting anything between you two?" At her words, Kael reacted more strongly than I did, waving his hands in frantic denial. "We don't do that. That kind of thing is disgusting." I listened quietly, my eyes fixed on my phone, not looking up. Kael was right. This wasn't my home. It was time for me to move out. 6 Finding a suitable apartment wasn't easy. Living with the Sterlings, I never had an allowance. If I needed something, I had to ask the butler, who would grant any "reasonable" request. At the Pierce estate, Grandpa Pierce gave me fifty thousand dollars a month. It sounded like a lot, but it had to cover Kael's medical bills, therapy sessions, specialized diet, and the salaries and expenses for the entire household staff. After meticulous budgeting, I usually had a few thousand left over each month. My savings were modest. After a couple of days of searching, I found a reasonably priced apartment. I was packing my clothes when Kael came home. Since I'd brought up divorce, he had softened his attitude toward me slightly. Very occasionally, he would even initiate a conversation. Like now. "Are you throwing those out?" he asked, nodding at the pile of clothes. I shook my head. "No." He pointed at the stack. "You should. They're ugly. You have no artistic sense, no idea how to dress. All these clothes are awful." I stopped what I was doing and looked at him. "Then what's considered beautiful?" He thought for a moment. "The way Sylvia dresses. That's beautiful. You should learn from her. I have money. I can buy you new things." My eyes fell on a white dress at the top of the pile. My heart gave a little pang. Kael himself had picked it out for me a year ago when we were out shopping. I still remembered his reaction when I stepped out of the fitting room. He had stuttered, repeating the same word over and over. "Beautiful." The dress hadn't changed, but he had. Or had his perception of me changed? I lowered my gaze and continued packing. "No, thank you. I like my own style." A flicker of anger flared in his eyes. "Suit yourself," he snapped, turning and storming out of the room. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang that made my ears ring. He didn't leave his room for the rest of the night. So he never knew that I left the villa. When I first arrived at the Pierce estate, I had a single 24-inch suitcase and a blue backpack. When I left, I had the exact same things. Kael was right. This wasn't my home, so very little of what was inside it was actually mine. I stayed in the apartment for just one night before leaving for Clearwater. When I was little, my mother always told me that things would get better. Once she saved up enough money, she promised, she would take me traveling. After she was gone, I told myself the same thing. Once I saved up enough money, I would go traveling on my own. But life never works out the way you plan. I had only escaped one cage to be locked in another. Kael couldn't be left alone, so I could never go far. I had tried taking him with me once. But he had spent his entire life in this city and couldn't handle the change in environment. Stripped of his security, he became agitated and anxious on the train. He couldn't even eat. I had no choice but to get off at the next stop and take him home. The crushing disappointment I felt stepping off that train was as intense as the excitement I'd felt planning the trip. It turned out that even with enough money, travel wasn't guaranteed. Not when you were tied down. Not when you had no time. But now, finally, I was standing at the foot of the Cascade Peaks. The wind wrinkled the surface of Greywater Lake and sculpted the clouds above. I put on my headphones and cycled down a narrow path, the world unfolding around me. Fields of wheat, open plains, the shattered reflection of the sun on the water, and the mountains cradling the drifting clouds. In that moment, the rigid, suffocating rhythm of my life shattered against the sound of the waves. Life became fluid, spontaneous. I became useless and vibrantly alive. I found a community of kindred spirits, people weary of the daily grind, who had set up small stalls selling their crafts. We sat on the ground under a canopy of stars, sharing our stories. A medical student who had quit her job on the verge of a breakdown told me that here, for the first time, her life wasn't chopped into tiny, fragmented pieces of vacation time. A man recovering from an illness said that while the future was unknown, at least in this present moment, he felt himself growing again. We came together for a brief, beautiful time, touching the softest, most hidden corners of each other's hearts. Then, like the eighteen streams of the Cascades, we each flowed onward, following our own winding paths. Later, I went to Sunrise Point by myself to watch the dawn. The ripples on the lake broke the sunlight into a thousand dancing silver coins. I didn't cry when I was struggling to survive at the Sterling estate. I didn't cry when Kael hurled insults at me and kicked me out of his house. But in that moment, watching the sunrise, I covered my face and my shoulders shook with silent, uncontrollable sobs. I had never felt freedom so acutely. There were no alarms, no endless to-do lists in my planner. I answered the call of the distant mountains and could spend an entire day just daydreaming. After two weeks, I finally put my SIM card back in my phone. I had sent Grandpa Pierce a short text when I left, but that was it. Now, my phone flooded with notifications for missed calls. My father, Grandpa Pierce, and even Kael. I sat on the bus heading back and dialed Grandpa Pierce's number. "Cora," he said, his voice thick with a weariness that went bone-deep. "You need to come home." "It's Kael... he's not well."

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