The City's Biggest Heiress

EMILIA

The water in the sink was colder than usual, biting into my skin as I scrubbed another plate. My wrist ached so badly I could barely hold the sponge, but I forced myself to keep going.

The stack of dishes wasn’t getting any smaller, and the last thing I wanted was for Jason’s mother to find me slacking.

Apparently I was the laziest woman she had ever set her eyes on, no matter how hard i worked it was nothing to her.

Just as I set a clean plate on the drying rack, I heard her sharp, familiar voice behind me.

"Emilia! You’re still not done?”

I turned, startled, to see her storming into the kitchen with a stack of plates in her hands. If I could wish for anything, it was to disappear at that moment.

She plopped them onto the counter with a loud clatter.

“Wash these again. And when you’re done, come to my room and wash my clothes.”

“But… I already washed your clothes this morning.” I said softly, my voice shaking.

I was trying to sound as polite as ever so she wouldn't slap me in the face.

“And these plates… they are already clean.”

Her glare could’ve burned through steel, it probably burned down the wall of confidence I had in me.

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, mum. It’s just that—”

“You think I don’t know what clean looks like?” She stepped closer, her face twisted in disgust.

"Dont make me repeat myself again, wash them again. You can't be pathetic and lazy at the same time.”

Her words hit me like a slap.

She wasn’t done.

“I still don’t understand why Jason married someone like you. A wretched girl with no class, no beauty, no brains. He could’ve had anyone—rich, sophisticated women who actually belong in this family. But instead, he chose you.”

She gave me one last look of disgust like I was a walking trash bin who wasn't worthy of breathing the same air she was breathing before walking out of the kitchen, leaving me frozen in place.

The tears started before I could stop them. They slipped down my cheeks, falling silently into the soapy water.

I was supposed to be used to this by now, but each and everytime I could help but cry.

I clutched the sponge tightly, letting my frustration and sadness pour into the mindless task of scrubbing plates.

This wasn’t how my life was supposed to be.

I thought back to the years before Jason and I got married, back when he was struggling to get his business off the ground.

We were both nobodies then, scraping by on instant noodles and shared dreams.

I worked two jobs to support us, giving him every extra penny I had so he could chase his goals, I barely even took care of myself.

I never placed myself above him.

When his company finally took off, I thought we’d made it. I thought all the hard times were behind us, that we’d finally live the life we’d always dreamed of together, the life we always talked about having. But I was wrong. So, so wrong.

It’s been five years since we got married, five f*ck*ng years of been together... I slammed the sponge into the water with tears streaming down my face.

God! I couldn't hold back my frustration.

Only two since Jason became a millionaire. In those two years, everything changed. He changed. The man who once held my hand and told me I was his world now barely looked at me.

He only looked at me when his whores were unavailable to give him pleasure.

He didn’t even try to hide his infidelities anymore. Women paraded in and out of our house, laughing loudly as they climbed the stairs to our bedroom, my bedroom.

My hands trembled as I scrubbed a particularly stubborn stain. My wrist screamed in protest, but I didn’t stop.

If I stopped, I’d think too much, and thinking hurt more than the physical pain.

A loud crash behind me made me jump, my heart practically tried to escape my rib cage.

I spun around to see Jason standing in the doorway, his dark brown eyes blazing with anger.

Seeing him angry was more terrifying than any other thing I could think of.

“What’s this bulshit Emilia?"

"So this how you act now? Who gave you the audacity to yell at my mother? She asked you to do your duties and you were talking back at her?" I was beyond shocked, when did I yell at her?

I blinked, confused. “I didn’t talk back, Jason. I swear.”

“Don’t lie to me!” He stepped into the kitchen, his tall frame looming over me like a shadow.

“I’m not lying.” I said, gasping for air.

His presence s*ck*d all the air from my lungs.

“She asked me to wash some plates again, and I—”

“Enough!” he snapped, grabbing a plate from the drying rack and smashing it onto the floor. The sound was deafening, and I flinched as shards flew everywhere.

“Jason, please…” I took a step back, my heart pounding.

He grabbed another plate. “Are you calling my mother a liar? Or me?”

“No! I just...”

He threw the second plate, and this time, a piece of it grazed my leg, giving it a cut.

I gasped as a sharp sting shot through me, and when I looked down, I saw blood seeping through.

I dropped to the floor, clutching my leg as tears streamed down my face. The pain was so sharp, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

Jason didn’t even glance at me, he didn't even care if I was bleeding.

“Clean this mess up.” he said coldly. “And don’t ever disrespect my mother again or I will kick you out of this house.”

Then he turned and walked out, leaving me alone on the cold kitchen floor.

For a long moment, I couldn’t move. I stared at the broken shards of porcelain scattered around me, at the blood dripping onto the tiles.

How did it come to this?

How did the man I loved,the man I sacrificed everything for, become this stranger?

I thought about leaving, about walking out of this house and never looking back. But where would I go? My mother was dead, had no father and I had no savings of my own. Every penny I ever earned went into Jason’s business, into making his dreams a reality.

The tears came harder now, and I let them. There was no point in holding them back anymore.

Eventually, I forced myself to stand. My leg throbbed with every step as I limped to the sink to get a cloth.

I cleaned the blood off the floor, careful not to cut myself again on the shards of broken plates.

As I worked, I thought about the woman Jason brought home last week. She was tall, blonde, and beautiful—the kind of woman his mother probably wished he’d married.

She didn’t even acknowledge me as she walked into the house, her arm linked with Jason’s. She laughed at something he said, her voice high and musical, like a bell.

I wasn’t angry at her. It wasn’t her fault.

Jason was the one who betrayed me, who humiliated me.

I finished cleaning the floor and threw the broken pieces of the plates into the trash. My wrist still throbbed, and my leg burned, but I forced myself to keep going.

This was my life now. This was my reality.

As I climbed the stairs to our bedroom, I heard laughter from the living room. Jason’s mother was chatting with a guest, her voice bright and cheerful, they were probably mocking me.

I limped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The warm water stung my cut, but it soothed my aching muscles.

As I stood under the spray, I closed my eyes and tried to remember the Jason I fell in love with. The Jason who used to hold me close and whisper that everything would be okay.

But that Jason was gone.

And I had no idea if he’d ever come back.

For now, all I could do was survive.

EMILIA

The sound of the door slamming shut echoed in my ears as I stood there, frozen. Jason’s mother’s sharp voice still rang in my head.

"Get out of my face, Emilia!" she’d yelled, pointing a perfectly manicured finger toward the staircase.

I didn’t say a word. I never did. I just turned around and walked away, the humiliation swallowing me whole like a dark, endless pit.

By the time I reached my room, my legs felt like jelly. The door clicked softly behind me as I leaned against it, struggling to catch my breath, I was so tired and weak. My chest felt heavy, like someone had stacked bricks on it.

I was Jason's wife yet I lived like a slave in his house, our house.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I reached for it, eager for a distraction. The name on the screen made my heart skip: Sylvia. My best friend.

Someone who cared about me. At least, that’s what I thought.

I unloc