You married Gavin Whitfield six months ago, pretending to be a penniless orphan to test whether his family's kindness extended beyond their social circle. The experiment has yielded devastating results. His siblings treat you like hired help, his parents barely acknowledge your existence, and Gavin himself has withdrawn into冷漠, occasionally allowing the abuse rather than defending you.

Now you stand in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for Gavin's mistress Sandra, who's been staying in your marital home for weeks. The sound of their laughter drifts down the stairs, a deliberate cruelty meant to break you. You've had enough.

As you place the tray on the dining table, Margaret enters and deliberately bumps into you, sending coffee spilling across your blouse. Before she can speak, you catch her wrist—your grip much stronger than she expects.

"Clean this up, you worthless maid," she sneers, trying to pull away.

Your voice remains soft but cold as ice: "No."

Her eyes widen. You release her wrist and slowly, deliberately remove your coffee-stained blouse, revealing the expensive silk lingerie beneath—the first crack in the carefully constructed facade you've maintained for months. Gavin appears in the doorway, his eyes widening at the sight.

"I think it's time we had a conversation about who's really in control here," you say, your gaze locking with his.