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By the time I reached the kitchen, my heart was pounding in my chest. The maids whispered among themselves, their glances filled with a mix of pity and disapproval. I wanted to disappear, to shrink into nothingness. Instead, I grabbed a tray of dishes and began the humiliating task of cleaning up the dining room. As I worked, the door to the dining room opened again, and this time, the air seemed to grow colder. Maxwell's towering figure filled the doorway. His dark suit clung to his broad shoulders, and his piercing green eyes-so much like his mother's-swept over me with a look that was equal parts annoyance and indifference. "Mother, what is this nonsense?" he demanded, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Rebecca turned to him, her expression softening into something that almost resembled affection. "Oh, Maxwell, I'm simply teaching your wife some discipline. She needs to learn how things work in this family." Maxwell's eyes flicked to me, and for a moment, I thought I saw something-concern, maybe?-flicker across his face. But it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. "If she's going to live here, she'll follow the rules," he said flatly, his tone devoid of emotion. "But don't waste your time, Mother. She's hardly worth the effort." His words hit me like a slap, and I fought to keep the tears from spilling down my cheeks. I wanted to scream, to demand why he had married me if he despised me so much. But I couldn't. I didn't have the strength. Rebecca smirked, clearly pleased with her son's response. "You're right, Maxwell. She's not worth much at all. But I suppose she serves her purpose." I didn't dare ask what that purpose was. Instead, I kept my head down and continued cleaning, the humiliation burning in my chest like a hot coal. When the dining room was spotless, I retreated to the small bedroom I had been assigned. It wasn't the luxurious master suite I'd expected as Maxwell's wife, but a plain, sparsely furnished room tucked away in a quiet corner of the estate. It was cl