Chapter 1 Another woman

"I am so sorry, Mother," a young woman said timidly, her eyes filled with fear.

Before she could say another word.

Splash.

That was all she heard.

Her dress was instantly soaked, clinging to her skin. she gasped in shock.

"What is wrong with your eyes?" the elderly woman snapped.

The soaked woman looked up, terror filling her weary eyes. Slowly, the elderly woman turned her gaze toward the man seated across from her.

"This is all your fault, Dante," she hissed. "I warned you against marrying such a low-life orphan, but you refused to listen to your mother. Now my million -dollar contract is ruined!" She hissed .

Dante shot up from his chair and charged toward the young woman , fury etched across his face.

"Zara , how many times have I told you to be careful?" he shouted. "In this house, you do nothing but cook and clean. Those are the simplest tasks, yet you still fail at them!"

"I didn't mean to spill the tea," Zara said softly. "It was just an acci "

"Shut up!" Dante roared, cutting her off.

"One more mistake," he warned coldly, "and I'll throw you out onto the streets with your daughter. Do you understand?"

Zara nodded timidly, tears pooling in her eyes.

Her mother-in-law watched the scene with satisfaction, her lips curving into a cruel smile.

"Now clean the table and go make my mother another cup of tea."

Zara wiped the spilled tea in silence trying to hide her pain . She then slowly walked into the kitchen and finally she let out a heavy sigh as she placed the dishes into the sink. Her eyes were blurry, her body ached, and she looked like someone who hadn't slept in days.

This was not new to her. She was used to the daily torment yet the pain never became easier to bear.

She glanced down at her soaked dress and sighed sadly, wondering what sin she had committed to deserve such a life. But there was no time for questions or tears. She had dishes to wash and tea to make orders she dared not refuse.

Just as she turned on the tap and began washing, her phone rang.

"Mrs. Zara," a woman's voice said over the phone, "this is about your daughter, Lilly."

At the sound of her daughter's name, Zara's heart began to race. Lilly was the only reason she was still alive, and the thought of her being sick sent panic surging through her veins.

"She suddenly fell ill," the woman continued gently. "Could you please come and check on her?"

A sharp pain stabbed Zara's chest.

"I'm on my way," she said quickly and ended the call.

She rushed back to the dining table, her voice trembling with urgency.

"Dante, I need to go to Lilly's school," she said. "The teacher called and said she's very ill."

Dante and his mother continued their conversation, acting as though they hadn't heard a word she said

"Dante," she called again, her voice breaking. "It's your daughter. She's sick."

At the word daughter, Dante let out a short chuckle. His mother joined him.

"My son wanted a boy," she said coldly. "You gave us a girl. That is your problem."

"And before you leave," Dante added without looking up from his phone, "bring my mother her tea."

A sharp pain tore through Zara's chest.

Without another word, she ran to her room and grabbed a jacket to cover her soaked dress. She didn't have time to change .

When she returned downstairs, she didn't stop because she knew there was no point speaking to the both of them again. She just ran straight out of the massive house, fully aware that leaving without serving the tea would bring punishment later. But none of that mattered now.

Her daughter mattered more.

Outside, the driveway glittered with expensive cars, each one mocking her. Yet she wasn't allowed to own even one. She hailed a cab and climbed in, giving the driver her daughter's school address.

"How dare she leave without giving me tea "? Dante's mother snapped.

Dante clenched his jaw. "Zara," he muttered angrily.

They argued over the missing tea, as though it were the greatest offense, forgetting, or perhaps not caring, that Zara had gone to check on their own blood .

At the school, Zara found little Lilly asleep, her small body limp with weakness.

"Oh, my baby," Zara whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Lilly managed a faint smile at the sound of her mother's voice.

"She developed a sudden fever," the teacher explained gently, standing beside them.

"Thank you," Zara said, her eyes heavy with worry. "I'm taking her to the hospital."

The teacher helped them into a cab. "Quick recovery, Lilly," she said softly as the vehicle pulled away.

At the hospital, Lilly was diagnosed with malaria and given medication. Hours later, Zara sat beside her on the hospital bed, gently stroking her hair.

"Are you feeling better, my angel?" she asked.

"Yes, Mommy," Lilly replied weakly.

"You're free to go home now," the doctor said. "Just make sure she takes her medication as prescribed."

Mother and daughter left the hospital hand in hand.

Just before they reached the exit, Zara stopped short.

A familiar figure stood ahead.

Dante?

Before she could make sense of it, she noticed a beautiful, classy woman beside him, holding a young boy's hand. The child ran forward and wrapped his arms around Dante, who bent to embrace him as the woman watched with a warm, knowing smile.