Chapter 3
792words
I'd made him uncomfortable, so he wanted to make me suffer.
Back then, Lane had refused to divorce me no matter what.
"Look around! What man in my position doesn't have a few girls on the side!"
"I told you if you don't like her, I'll get rid of her! What the hell did I do to deserve this?!"
"Ashley, you're pregnant! That's my child you're carrying!"
"You want my child born without a father? Not happening!"
I'd worked myself sick when I was younger. I saved Eva thinking it would bring good karma, but I miscarried my first baby before three months. I didn't get pregnant again until I was thirty.
Lane cared deeply about this baby.
Born wealthy but abandoned by his biological father after an affair, while other teenage boys dreamed of becoming heroes, Lane's only dream was to be a good father.
Lying side by side on the school lawn, textbooks shielding our faces from the sun, he'd whispered,
"I'll make our children the happiest in the world."
Even as I pushed for divorce, he'd bought a plot of land, planning to build a playground for our child.
To escape my "unreasonable behavior," he'd cut off my credit cards with instructions to "think about what I'd done," while taking Eva on a cruise.
When he returned, I'd thrown the bloody remains and divorce papers onto his desk.
That day, he'd nearly strangled me.
With a cold laugh, I'd stabbed his deepest wound.
"You're just like your father! Unfit to be a dad!"
After the divorce, he'd buried those remains on that plot of land.
Now, with our child's death anniversary approaching, he wanted to force me to bow to his mistress.
I couldn't reach Lane anywhere, but Eva called instead.
That day—the anniversary of my child's death—Eva demanded I accompany her to a party.
"You're in no position to refuse."
"Don't forget, you're the assistant Lane assigned to me."
After our divorce, Lane had blocked every job opportunity for me.
Even restaurants wouldn't hire me as a waitress. Desperate and out of options, I'd crawled back to him.
In the executive office I'd decorated myself, he'd pulled Eva onto his lap.
"When you killed my child, did you think about your future at all?"
"Ashley, I always said I spoiled you too much."
"People only appreciate what they have after they've suffered."
"Now get out."
In that moment, I realized that without his charity, I had nothing.
Like a pet discarded when its owner grew bored. Pathetic.
I'd stood there refusing to leave, finally dropping to my knees as he chuckled.
"Eva needs an assistant. You'll serve her from now on."
When I first became her "assistant," Eva paraded me everywhere like a war trophy.
"Ashley, fetch me some water."
"Ashley, carry my bag."
"Ashley, my shoes are dirty. Get on your knees and clean them."
Calling me by my first name in front of everyone while countless eyes watched my humiliation was her favorite game.
But since I'd remarried Lane, she hadn't summoned me for a while.
I knew this was a trap. Sure enough, Eva announced with smug satisfaction:
"Your position as Mrs. Silver might need to be vacated soon."
"On the anniversary of the day you killed your baby, I'm pregnant."
"Funny, isn't it, Ashley?"
To humiliate me further, Eva held her pregnancy celebration at the same place where I'd begged Lane to take me back.
Over her years clinging to Lane, Eva had built her own little social circle.
Classless nouveau riche heiresses and former mistresses-turned-wives eager to curry favor with the Silver family—all followed her lead.
At Eva's signal, someone "accidentally" slammed into my shoulder, nearly knocking me down.
"Too old to keep your balance, Mrs. Silver? Pathetic how you're fighting with Miss White at your age!"
"Look at Mrs. Silver playing the victim! Too bad Mr. Silver isn't here to see your little act!"
I looked around, then fixed my gaze on Eva.
"You're targeting me today, Eva."
"I'll make sure you don't even end up as Lane's pet canary."
Someone rushed forward and slapped me hard.
"Still acting tough?"
"You dried-up hag! You think remarrying means he actually loves you again?!"
That slap opened the floodgates. Soon I was shoved to the ground.
Eva perched in front of me, lifting my chin with the tip of her stiletto.
"Getting cocky lately, aren't you, Ashley?"
"Afraid you'll forget your place, I arranged a little trip down memory lane."
The massive screen before me lit up with footage of me begging Lane to take me back!
In the video, I wore only Lane's oversized shirt, my bare thighs visible, the hidden camera angle focused on my tear-streaked face.
