REVENGE OF THE UGLY WIFE

Mathilda's POV

September 28, 2017

What is the greatest regret you've ever faced in your life?

If anyone were to ask me that question, I wouldn't even need to think. My greatest regret is marrying Fredric.

Yes... marrying him was the saddest, most painful mistake of my life.

People think stories about cruel husbands, arranged marriages, and wives forced into loveless relationships by manipulative grandmothers are nothing more than fiction-tragic tales that belong on television screens or in novels.

But the truth is, those stories happen in real life too. They happened to me.

If I could turn back time-if I could undo that wedding that took place just a month ago-my life wouldn't have turned into this endless misery.

"What are you doing in my bed? Get out!"

The harsh voice came from my right. I turned to see a tall man, his bare chest marked by a faint birthmark just below his collarbone. His eyes were cold, sharp, and filled with disgust.

He is my husband-Fredric Liam Smith, the man the world calls a charming young CEO, but who to me is nothing more than a stranger sharing my roof.

What could I do when he spoke that way? Of course, I immediately moved away, slipping off the edge of the bed as if my presence were poison.

There was no affection between us-no tender words, no smiles, no warmth. Not even the smallest trace of love. The only times he pretended to care were when his grandmother, Rosa, was around.

Rosa was the only person in this family who ever truly cared for me. She was kind, elegant, and full of grace. Every gesture of affection she gave me felt genuine, and I owed her my entire life.

"Mr. Fredric, tomorrow you have an appointment-"

"Shut up! I know my own schedule. Why are you telling me this? Since when did you become my secretary? Are you stalking me now?"

See what I mean? I couldn't even finish a sentence before he lashed out. Don't be surprised when I say I call him *Mr. Fredric*-not "dear," not "love," not even "husband." Those words feel foreign in this house.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Fredric. I didn't mean to overstep. Your secretary called me-she said they couldn't reach you. It's an urgent meeting."

Fredric glared at me, his expression tightening before he grabbed his phone from the bedside table.

"Next time, just get to the point. Tell me to turn my phone on. Don't meddle in my schedule, understand? Don't bother me again. I need rest after pretending to be happy in this cursed marriage all day."

Pretending. That word echoed in my mind long after he turned his back on me.

I don't blame him entirely. Maybe this is all Rosa's fault... or maybe it's mine, for agreeing to something that should never have happened.

Rosa had worried about me after my parents died. I've known her family since I was a child.

My father, Goyle, had been Rosa's driver for almost twenty years. He was loyal, hardworking, and deeply respected her.

When I was little, Father used to take me to Rosa's mansion on weekends. I would run around her grand garden while he waited in the car. Sometimes, Rosa would smile at me from the terrace and wave. She was like a benevolent queen, untouchable yet kind.

Now, remembering those moments only hurts. My father was gone, buried beside my mother. I often wondered if they were together now-peaceful, away from all this pain.

My thoughts were broken by the sound of Fredric's phone ringing. He immediately straightened up, his demeanor shifting from irritation to excitement. A wide smile spread across his face as he looked at the screen.

"Baby, I waited for you to fall asleep! Where are you?"

A sweet, gentle voice poured from the phone-one filled with laughter and affection. It was a tone I had never heard directed at me.

Guess who was calling him?

If you don't know, let me tell you. It was Paula-the famous model who graced every billboard in New York City. The woman who proudly called herself Fredric's girlfriend.

You might wonder how everything fell apart within only a month of marriage. Well, Fredric told me the truth the very same day we exchanged vows.

He never loved me. He married me only to please his grandmother.

And Paula knew. She didn't care-because she wanted the money, the fame, and the connections that came with Fredric's title.

"Hurry up, let's go," Fredric said as he got up from bed, rushing into the bathroom.

I sat motionless on the sofa, confused. Where could we possibly be going at this hour?

"Hey! What are you waiting for? Didn't you hear me?!" he shouted, his voice booming through the closed door.

I jumped to my feet, opened the closet, and pulled out the simplest outfit I could find-a white sweater and a pair of black pants.

Fredric came out of the bathroom looking as perfect as ever-his hair slicked back, his suit immaculate. But his eyes... they were always filled with disdain when they landed on me.

"A slow, useless slug," he muttered. "I still can't understand why Grandma loves you so much or why she forced me to marry you. What could she possibly see in you? You're not even pretty, and you smell terrible! Tch! It's disgusting to share a bed with you, Mathilda!"

His words were sharp as knives. My legs trembled, my chest burned, but I refused to cry in front of him. I went into the bathroom, locked the door, and let my tears fall in silence.

What could I do? Confront him? Leave him?

No. I had promised Rosa-and my late father-that I would endure this marriage.

Maybe, just maybe, things would change with time. Maybe Fredric would eventually see me for who I truly was.

I wasn't beautiful, but my heart was full of love for him-love that asked for nothing in return.

When I finally got into the car, his insults started all over again.

"How long does it take you to get dressed? You think dressing up will make me attracted to you? You still look boring and ugly in that sweater. Absolutely unfitting."

I stayed silent, lowering my head as I buckled my seatbelt.

Fredric leaned closer, sniffing the air around me. My body tensed.

"Yuck! You stink! Didn't I give you your allowance two days ago? Why don't you buy perfume?"

"I'm wearing perfume, Mr. Fredric," I whispered. "It's the only one I can afford. I don't think I smell that bad."

"Your cheap perfume doesn't even reach my nose. You should know who you're married to. You'll never earn my affection, but you're still my wife. You'll be meeting important people-Grandma will drag you to endless events. You should start acting like someone from this family. Learn about expensive perfumes and stop embarrassing us!"

His phone rang again. Paula's name flashed on the screen.

Of course.

Fredric smiled and answered immediately. "Yeah, baby, I'm on my way. Wait for me."

He hung up, and without another word, the car began to move.

Outside, the city lights blurred through the tinted windows. The only sound was the soft hum of the radio and the steady rhythm of my heartbeat.

In the rearview mirror, I saw the reflection of our mansion-a magnificent building that every girl would dream of living in.

And yet, inside that mansion, I was nothing but a shadow.

I turned to look at Fredric. His chiseled face glowed under the passing streetlights, his jaw sharp, his eyes focused on the road. He was everything I had once dreamed of-charming, successful, powerful.

And I? I was a fool.

Because even now, after all the pain and humiliation, I still found myself hoping.

Hoping that one day he might look at me differently. Hoping that someday, this marriage might mean something more than duty and lies.

Ah... if only all of this had happened because of love.

If only he had ever truly loved me.

FEDRIC'S POV

Seven Months Ago - February 27, 2017

Young, handsome, and rich. Who wouldn't want to be in a position like that?

My name is **Fredric Liam Smith**, twenty-six years old. The sentence above pretty much sums up my life, doesn't it?

Women surround me everywhere I go-naturally. I'm not some pathetic fool who wastes his youth at home. I enjoy life, and I have every reason to. Why shouldn't I? I was born into privilege, wealth, and influence. My grandmother owns the largest diamond company in the world, and I already serve as one of its directors. The future is mine.

Today, though, I've got only one thing on my mind-**Paula**.

Ah, Paula... who doesn't know her? One of New York's most famous models-gorgeous, sexy, confident. She's got a body sculpted by heaven itself and a face that makes cameras worship her. I can't wait to make her mine completely.

*Knock... knock...*

A sound came from the door. Without moving, I called out lazily, "Come in."

"Well, what a lovely day. Look at my handsome grandson, still lounging around in bed."

"Grandma?"

Panic jolted through me. I shot upright immediately, almost falling out of bed.

It's not that I'm afraid of her-well, maybe a little. I deeply respect my grandmother. After my mother died ten years ago, she became the only family I truly had.

"Why do you jump up like that every time I come in?" she teased, walking toward me with that elegant grace of hers. "Do I look like some police officer interrogating a criminal? Or maybe I'm just so old and terrifying now, a witch ready to eat your soul?"

Her tone carried mock irritation, though her smile gave her away. I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Come on, Grandma. Beautiful Rosa could never be terrifying," I said, standing and hugging her gently. "Even Gigi Hadid would lose next to you. You're still stunning-and it's 2017, Grandma, don't get so dramatic."

I felt her warmth as she laughed softly in my arms. There was always something maternal about her presence, something I'd missed for most of my life.

"You're just like your father," she murmured after a pause. "He used to say the same things whenever he wanted to charm his way out of trouble."

My smile vanished. My arms fell away. My chest tightened at the mention of *him*.

"Don't compare me to that man," I said, my tone hardening instantly. "You know I hate it when you bring him up."

"Fredric..."

"I'm not like my father. I didn't run away from my family. I didn't abandon anyone! Do you still remember him, Grandma? He hasn't even visited you in twenty-six years! Not once! He disappeared without a trace-no calls, no letters, nothing. And you still talk about him like he deserves forgiveness? You should be ashamed to even say his name."

I turned away, fists clenching. Anger burned through my veins like fire.

I never knew my father. I never even heard his voice. All I knew was that he'd chosen to disappear-to leave me, leave my mother, leave Grandma-all for reasons no one ever understood. He'd left behind the empire that should have been his, the wealth that people would kill for. He abandoned it all.

And I hated him for it.

My grandmother stood silently behind me. I could hear her breathing-slow, heavy, tired. Maybe she still missed him. Maybe, deep down, she still hoped he'd come back.

After a long pause, she whispered, "I'm sorry, Fredric. I didn't mean to hurt you."

I shook my head. "I'm not hurt. I'm angry. And I'll stay angry until the day I meet him. If that ever happens, I swear-I'll punch him straight in the face. Only then, maybe, I'll forgive him."

A soft sigh escaped her lips before she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. Despite everything, I couldn't stay cold toward her.

I turned, hugging her back gently. "I'm sorry, Grandma," I muttered. "I shouldn't yell at you. You don't deserve that."

"It's all right, dear," she said with a small smile. "Now, forget about your father. I actually came here for another reason. I want you to come with me to lunch. We're meeting Goyle and his family. It's their wedding anniversary today."

I raised an eyebrow. That sounded... dull.

But saying no to Rosa wasn't an option. I'd never refused her before, and I wasn't about to start now.

"All right," I sighed. "What time?"

"In an hour," she said, patting my arm before leaving the room.

When the door closed, I fell back onto my bed and grabbed my phone.

*I'll see you later tonight, Paula. I have to go somewhere with Grandma first.*

I sent the text and smirked.

If I had to endure lunch with my grandmother's driver's family, then I deserved a reward afterward-and Paula was the perfect one.

Still, I couldn't help but think of the man we were meeting-**Goyle Brown**, Grandma's loyal driver for decades-and his daughter, **Mathilda**.

Mathilda... the name alone made me cringe.

How unattractive could one person be? I'd soon find out again.

---

Exactly at 11:15 a.m., our car stopped in front of a five-star restaurant. The kind of place Grandma frequented for business meetings and family celebrations.

She stepped out of the car with her usual grace, waving politely at the doorman who hurried to open the entrance.

"Inviting them here, Grandma? You're really spoiling that family," I murmured under my breath.

She smiled, pretending not to hear me. "Goyle has served me faithfully for over twenty years. He deserves my kindness."

Her generosity was admirable-but at times, it annoyed me. She treated that family like royalty.

Maybe I was just jealous.

Goyle had what I never did-a stable home, a loving wife, a daughter who looked at him with respect. Maybe that's why I resented him, just a little. Because I grew up surrounded by riches, yet starved of affection.

When we entered, Goyle was already waiting near the door, standing as straight as a soldier.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Rosa. Mr. Fredric," he greeted with a polite nod. "It's an honor to celebrate our anniversary with you."

Ever the professional. Sometimes I wondered if he even knew how to smile.

My grandmother laughed softly. "Nonsense, Goyle. Fredric and I are the honored ones today. Now sit, let's enjoy the meal."

We took our seats at a round table covered in white linen. Goyle's wife smiled warmly, her hands clasped together.

"Mrs. Rosa, thank you again for your generosity. Mathilda sends her regards," she said cheerfully.

Ah, *there it is.*

I turned my gaze toward the girl sitting beside her parents. Mathilda looked exactly as I remembered-timid, small, hiding behind a curtain of messy reddish curls and oversized glasses that swallowed half her face.

She couldn't even look at me.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh or sigh.

Her clothes were plain-some floral blouse that looked like it belonged to a grandmother. Everything about her screamed awkwardness.

Rosa smiled at her fondly. "Mathilda, you look lovely today. That ponytail suits you-you're like a Barbie doll. Perfect next to Fredric."

I froze.

What did she just say?

I forced a smile, but sarcasm slipped out before I could stop it. "Maybe she should change her style first. Something like Gigi Hadid-or Kendall Jenner."

The table went silent.

Goyle's wife's smile faltered. Goyle cleared his throat. And Mathilda... poor Mathilda lowered her head even further, as if she wished the ground would swallow her whole.

"Fredric," Rosa said sharply. "What my grandson *meant* is that maybe you could try letting your hair down next time, dear. You'd look stunning."

She gave me a pointed look, one eyebrow raised. I knew that look-it meant *behave yourself.*

I shrugged, pretending not to care.

Let her be angry. I didn't care. Because honestly, if Grandma ever truly thought Mathilda could stand beside me, she was delusional.

It would take at least ten plastic surgeries before that girl could even dream of being worthy of me.

Or so I thought.

I had no idea then that the same girl I dismissed that day would one day destroy my world completely.

And that, in the end, *I* would be the one begging for her forgiveness.

MATHILDA'S POV

February 27, 2017

I would have preferred to stay home today rather than go out for lunch.

Every moment spent near Fredric is exhausting-his coldness, his disdain, the way he looks at me as if my existence itself annoys him. He has never once spoken to me kindly, never even smiled in my direction. Earlier this morning, he said I should "change my appearance" if I ever wanted to be seen as someone worthy-like one of those glamorous supermodels he admires.

How cruel. How unnecessary.

Yet despite his harshness, my heart betrays me.

I *admire* Fredric. I always have. He was my first love.

Since I was a little girl, we've crossed paths so many times-at my father's workplace, in Rosa's garden, at family gatherings-but he never truly noticed me. To him, I was invisible. Just another awkward girl in the background.

And maybe that's exactly what I am.

Who would ever greet a plain, nerdy girl like me? My face has always been covered in freckles, my hair unruly and curly, my body thin and frail. There's nothing striking about me-no glow, no beauty. Just Mathilda, the ordinary daughter of Rosa's chauffeur.

"Mathilda, how have you been, dear? Everything going well?" Mrs. Rosa's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked and quickly forced a smile.

"Yes, everything's fine, ma'am."

"Working as a cashier must be tiring, isn't it?" she said warmly. "But honest work is always noble."

Before I could answer, Fredric's low voice cut through the air like a blade. "It's not hard work unless you're running a major corporation. That's where the real headaches begin."

His tone carried that familiar arrogance, the kind that made me shrink inside myself. I could never understand what I had done to make him dislike me so much. As far as I remember, I've always treated him with respect. Perhaps... he can somehow sense that I like him?

"Fredric's been very busy lately," Rosa intervened gently, clearly embarrassed by his rudeness. "He gets stressed easily, but don't take his words too seriously, Mathilda. Every job has its own difficulties. Pressure and responsibility are everywhere."

She smiled kindly at me, but I could sense her disappointment in her grandson's attitude.

My parents stayed quiet, smiling politely. I could tell they were uncomfortable too.

Mother once told me Fredric had always been cold-even as a boy-and a little rebellious. But she also said he carried a heavy loneliness inside him. Losing his parents so young couldn't have been easy.

Still, his distance only makes him more magnetic. That quiet, untouchable aura he has... I can't help being drawn to it. Maybe it's foolish, but loving him, even secretly, makes me feel alive.

Fredric turned toward Rosa again. "Grandma, I don't want to interrupt your lunch, but I have an appointment this afternoon-with Paula. She's waiting for me at her agency for an audition, and I promised to go with her. Can we finish soon?"

The name *Paula* echoed in my mind like an unwanted song.

Paula?

Rosa frowned slightly. "Who's Paula?"

Oh, how I wanted to ask the same thing. I've heard of Fredric's many girlfriends before, but this time... something twisted in my chest. I wanted to know more. Who was this woman who could make him smile, make him eager to leave his grandmother's side?

"I'll introduce her to you later," Fredric said quickly, glancing at his watch. "Can we speed this up, Grandma?"

His voice held a hint of irritation, but there was excitement underneath it-excitement that wasn't for me, of course.

If only it *were* me.

But no, those are foolish dreams-illusions of a girl who means nothing to him.

When Fredric's eyes suddenly shifted to me, I panicked and looked down at my plate, pretending to study the food. My heart raced. He must think I'm staring at him, probably like some pathetic stalker.

Rosa, ever the gracious host, broke the silence. "Goyle, if you don't mind, I'd like to ride back home with you after lunch. Fredric has some urgent business, and I'd rather not trouble the driver."

My father immediately agreed. "Of course, Mrs. Rosa."

Fredric wasted no time. He stood, murmured something that barely qualified as a goodbye, and left without even a glance in my direction. His expression was cold, but his pace quickened as if he couldn't wait to meet that woman-Paula.

I sat there quietly, watching him walk away, my chest tight.

Sometimes I wonder why life feels so unfair.

If I can't have the man I love, can't God at least grant me a little happiness-perhaps just a shred of kindness from him?

---

**Later That Night**

Paula.

That name won't stop echoing in my mind.

I wish I hadn't heard it. I wish it didn't bother me this much. But it does.

Tonight feels like one of the worst nights of my life. It's as though hearing that name carved something deep inside me.

I even tried searching for her online. Nothing came up. No clues. No photos. Just the gnawing thought that somewhere out there, she was laughing beside him.

The clock on my bedside table read **11:00 p.m.** I should have been asleep hours ago-I had work early in the morning. But my mind refused to rest. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Fredric's face, his cold eyes, and that name-Paula.

Then suddenly-

"**Darling!**"

The piercing scream shattered the silence. It came from my parents' room.

"Mama?" I rushed to the door, my heart pounding. "Mama, what happened?"

The scene froze me where I stood. My mother was on the floor, convulsing-her mouth foaming, her eyes rolled back.

"Call the ambulance! Now!" my father shouted, his voice breaking.

My hands shook as I grabbed the phone and dialed emergency services. Tears streamed down my face as I gave them our address, my words tumbling out in panic.

Everything felt unreal, like a nightmare I couldn't wake from.

By the time the paramedics arrived, my father was kneeling beside her, his face pale and wet with tears. I stood near the wall, unable to move, unable to breathe.

"Mathilda, come," my father whispered hoarsely, gripping my trembling hand.

We climbed into the ambulance. The siren wailed through the night as the vehicle sped through the empty streets.

I saw Mrs. Rosa through the window as we passed her house. She had come outside, looking worried, her nightgown fluttering in the cold breeze.

"Papa... why did Mama fall?" I asked, barely audible.

"That's what I'm trying to understand," he said, his voice cracking. "She came out of the bathroom, then suddenly collapsed. There was foam at her mouth... I didn't know what to do but scream."

We fell silent after that. The sound of the siren filled the space where words failed.

---

We sat outside the ICU, our bodies tense with fear. Half an hour passed with no news.

I kept gripping my hand so tightly it hurt, trying to keep myself from falling apart.

"Will Mama be all right?" I whispered. I had asked that same question so many times that my father stopped answering. He just sat there, motionless, his face hidden behind his trembling hands.

Then the door opened.

A doctor stepped out, his face grim. My father and I jumped to our feet and rushed toward him.

"How is my wife?" my father asked desperately.

The doctor didn't speak at first. He only shook his head.

My father bolted past him, running into the ICU. I stood frozen, grabbing the doctor's arm, begging for an explanation. "Please... tell me. What happened? I don't understand!"

The doctor sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. Your mother passed away. It was a sleeping pill overdose."

His words didn't register at first. My grip loosened. My knees gave way, and I sank to the cold floor.

"What?" I whispered. "No... that can't be true..."

But the look on his face told me everything.

My world-already fragile-shattered completely.

My mother was gone.

Gone without a goodbye, without a reason, without an answer.

And I could do nothing but cry into the silence, asking a God who no longer seemed to listen-

Why her? Why us? Why tonight?