I quickly cooked and set the food on the dining table before heading to Grey's room to wake him up. But as soon as I entered, I saw a maid already dressing him.
"My little boy," I whispered, stepping closer.
I squatted in front of him, reaching out to help, but he immediately smacked my hand away.
"Tell her to leave," Grey demanded, his voice firm.
My heart clenched, but I didn't argue. Without a word, I stood up and left the room.
This wasn't the first time.
Holding back my frustration, I made my way to Adrian's room. I pushed the door open without thinking-
Shit!
I forgot to knock.
Before I could turn around to fix my mistake, his cold voice cut through the air.
"You never listen, do you?"
I shivered. Fear gripped me instantly. Yes, I was scared of my own husband. Isn't that amazing?
"I-I was just going to knock," I stammered, taking a step back.
But before I could move, he grabbed me by the waist, pulling me close.
"What are you doing here?" His voice was as cold as ever.
"The food is ready," I managed to say.
"So?"
I blinked. So? What did he mean so? Didn't his brain know what came next after that?
I found myself staring at his lips-sharp, firm, and undeniably tempting.
"Are you done looking?" His deep voice snapped me back to reality.
God, was I drooling?
Embarrassed, I tried to pull away, but he suddenly let go of me. I lost my balance and landed on my butt with a painful thud.
"Ouch," I winced, looking up at him. But he had already walked away like nothing happened.
Seriously?
I dusted myself off and followed him to the dining room.
Grey and Adrian were already seated. I quietly served their food and was about to sit down when I remembered one of Adrian's ridiculous rules-I wasn't allowed to eat with them.
I had to wait until they were done, standing like some maid waiting for orders.
Crazy, right? But those were my husband's rules.
As I stood beside Grey, watching him eat, he suddenly frowned.
"I don't want this!" he snapped, before flinging the hot pasta onto me.
The burning food splattered across my skin. I screamed in pain, my hands instantly turning red from the heat.
Tears pricked my eyes, but I clenched my jaw. If he weren't just a kid... I didn't even want to think about what I would have done.
I looked at him, waiting for an apology. But nothing.
And Adrian? He made it even worse.
"You can't even prepare a simple meal that he likes," he said coldly. "How do you expect to handle him?"
Then, without another word, he stood up and walked away-taking Grey with him.
I stared at my burning hands, blinking back tears.
I finally sat down, letting the pain and frustration sink in.
If not for my mom, what would I be doing here? It has been two years since I got married to him but he never accepted me as his mother.
A Brief Introduction to My Miserable Life
My name is Mirabel Logan. I come from a poor family, and because of that, I've lost so much.
My father died because I couldn't afford his medical treatment.
Now, my mother is battling kidney failure-an inherited condition that runs in my family. The only way to save her is through a transplant, which costs ten million dollars.
I worked multiple jobs, struggling every day, but I barely saved even a fraction of that amount.
Then Adrian Carter came into my life.
He offered me a deal-a contract marriage. In exchange for becoming his wife and acting as a mother to his son, he would pay for my mother's surgery.
I had no choice. I signed the contract.
And now, here I am-trapped in a marriage with a man who doesn't care about me and a son who hates me.
"Welcome to My Life"
I took a deep breath and slowly stood up, ignoring the burning pain on my skin.
"Are you okay?"
I turned to see Lisa standing near me, concern written all over her face. She was one of the maids-probably the only one in this house who treated me with kindness.
"I'm okay, Lisa," I lied, forcing a smile.
But deep down, I wasn't okay. Nothing about my life was okay.
Adrian thought I sold myself for money.
Grey hated me.
And no matter how hard I tried, I was nothing more than a burden in this house.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turned and made my way upstairs. My hand was throbbing, the red burns on my skin reminding me of what just happened. The pasta had been hot-hot enough to leave a mark.
When I reached my room, I went straight to the bathroom and grabbed the first-aid box. Carefully, I cleaned the burn, wincing as the antiseptic stung my skin. Then, I wrapped my hand in a bandage.
My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten all day. But I wasn't in the mood to eat.
I walked over to my bed and lay down, staring at the ceiling.
Everything felt heavy-my body, my heart, my life.
How did I end up here?
A wife to a man who despised me. A mother to a child who wanted nothing to do with me. A prisoner in a house where I didn't belong.
I let out a shaky sigh and closed my eyes.
Maybe if I slept, I could escape reality for a little while.
Before I knew it, sleep took over.
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