Chapter 3

"Serena, what's wrong?"

Julian pulled Serena into his arms, eyes filled with concern.

Serena shook her head, playing the victim:

"It's nothing. It's my fault. Don't blame Chloe."

The more she said that, the more Julian was convinced I'd hurt her.

"Chloe!"

He snapped at me: "Apologize!"

His tone—like he was giving orders to the help.

A cold smile crept across my face.

He frowned, voice dripping with disappointment:

"Serena grew up with me. She's like my sister!"

"She's family. Can you stop being so hostile to her!"

"For my sake, just be nice to her, okay!"

My face stayed blank. I'd seen this exact scene a hundred times three years ago.

I was over it.

I was about to kick them out when my phone rang—video call.

The screen lit up: Baby Boy.

Julian's eyes lit up when he saw that.

He hit Accept before I could stop him.

I grabbed my phone fast. My two-year-old son's chubby face filled the screen.

"Mommy, I miss you."

Julian heard "Mommy" and went rigid with excitement.

Convinced I'd had his son.

I said a quick word to my son.

Before Julian could grab my phone to talk to him, I hung up.

"I want to see my son!"

He was grinning like an idiot, all the tension from before vanished like it never happened.

Serena's face darkened.

"He's not your son!"

I looked him dead in the eye, voice ice-cold:

"Stop bothering me, you sick freaks!"

He didn't get mad. Just kept assuming, condescending as hell:

"Alright, alright. Stop being mad."

"I've really missed you and our son."

I finally got it. Guys like him—so full of themselves—

Wouldn't believe I'd stopped loving him until they saw my husband in person.

He suddenly said:

"Mom's birthday is in a few days."

"You're a good cook. Make some of her favorite dishes."

"Use this as a chance to fix things between you two."

"Now that you've given her a grandson, she won't give you a hard time anymore."

So he knew. Three years of marriage—

Three years of his mother treating me like garbage.

His mother hated that I came from nothing.

Even though I was Julian's legal wife, she wouldn't let me attend any family dinners.

If she was there, I wasn't allowed at the table.

I hated her too.

Our relationship was walking on eggshells—we just ignored each other.

And in all of it, he'd stayed silent.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. I asked on purpose:

"Julian, let's say—hypothetically—"

"What if I cook a whole feast and your mom still won't let me sit at the table?"

He hesitated before answering:

"You can say something nice, butter her up."

"You know how she is—all bark, no bite."

Serena jumped in with fake helpfulness:

"Chloe, it's not shameful to beg your elders. Auntie can’t resist when someone begs at her feet."

She was mocking me, telling me to beg on my knees.

I laughed bitterly, locked eyes with Julian, voice sharp and serious:

"Julian, three years changes everything!"

"I'm married now. And the kid isn't yours."

Then I turned to Serena:

"You should be the one begging on your knees. Maybe that’s your ticket into the Chase family."