The Billionaire’s undoing

Ella’s POV: “Do you want to kill me with this garbage you call coffee?” Eleanor’s shrill voice echoed in the room as she glared at me over the steaming cup. “No, ma,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. This wasn’t new. Every morning was the same battle, and I was used to it by now. Still, it didn’t make it hurt any less. I had woken up at 6:30, taken my bath, brushed my teeth, and rushed to prepare her breakfast and coffee, but no matter how hard I tried, it was never good enough for Eleanor Sterling. This wasn’t how I imagined my mornings as a wife — certainly not with a man like Damien Sterling. By 7:45, I was standing outside Eleanor’s door, balancing a tray: freshly brewed coffee and two cookies, just the way she liked it. My hand trembled slightly as I knocked. “What is it?” Eleanor barked from inside. I pushed the door open, forcing a polite smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Sterling. I’ve brought your breakfast.” Eleanor was seated at her vanity in a silk robe, her sharp eyes narrowing the moment I entered. “Finally,” she muttered. “How could a wife wake up this late? You came from a filthy family, and now you can’t even do your job properly. This is exactly why I didn’t want my son marrying someone like you.” I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump forming in my throat. “It’s just past seven-thirty, ma. I made it as soon as I woke up—” “Excuses!” she snapped. “You dare talk back to me? Just because you married my son, you think you can disrespect me?” “No, ma. I would never—” “Better not.” She grabbed the cup, took a sip, and immediately scowled. “This is disgusting!” Before I could react, she hurled the cup at me. Hot coffee splashed across my legs, stinging my skin, and the cup shattered at my feet. “Do you want me to die drinking this garbage?” she shouted, her voice dripping with venom. I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to cry. “I’m sorry, ma. I didn’t mean to— I’ll make another one.” “Don’t bother,” Eleanor said, waving me off. “Go to the bakery and get me fresh bread. I want it warm.” I hesitated. “But I have to go to work, Mrs. Sterling. If I leave now—” The slap came before I could finish. A sharp sting spread across my cheek, making my head whip to the side. “Work?” Eleanor sneered. “What’s so important about what you do at Sterling Enterprises? You’re just a secretary.” I blinked back tears, my cheek burning. The urge to scream bubbled in my chest, but I swallowed it down. Damien married me by his choice, but that didn’t matter here. “I’ll get the bread,” I murmured. “Good. And make it quick.” I turned to leave, but she called after me again. “Who’s going to clean the mess you made?” I froze, glancing down at the shattered cup. “I’ll call one of the maids to clean it, ma.” Eleanor scoffed. “You think you’re entitled to a maid in this house? Clean it yourself. Now.” “Yes, ma,” I stammered, dropping to my knees to pick up the shards. When the room was spotless, I stood up, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. As I stepped into the hallway, I brushed my fingers against my stinging cheek, trying to steady my breath. On my way downstairs, I nearly collided with Damien. He was at the front door, adjusting his cufflinks. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, making him look as cold and polished as ever. I wondered what he was doing in this part of the building. Perhaps he had a business discussion with his father. I stopped, searching his face for any hint of concern. “Good morning,” I greeted softly, hoping for a flicker of acknowledgment. Damien glanced at me briefly, his expression blank. He adjusted his watch, then stepped toward the waiting car without a word. “Why aren’t you ready for work?” he asked abruptly, his tone devoid of emotion. “Your mother asked me to get her bread from the bakery,” I explained, my voice barely above a whisper. He gave a slight nod, then climbed into the car. The driver pulled away without another word. I watched the car disappear down the driveway, a familiar ache settling in my chest. Damien’s indifference was nothing new, but it stung every time. It was as though I didn’t exist in his world — not as his wife, not even as someone who mattered. He had promised I would be treated well and acknowledged, but he turned a blind eye to everything that happened in the Sterling mansion. What did I expect after agreeing to marry the most respected and wealthiest billionaire in New York? Shaking off the hurt, I headed to the bakery. My mind kept going back to my marriage agreement with Damien. He had told me he wasn’t interested in marriage but had to do it for his father. I had thought that after a few months, things would change and he would fall in love with me since we’d always be together. But when I realized we would all be living together in the Sterling mansion, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Damien’s father and I hardly crossed paths — the mansion was too big, and we lived in separate wings — but Eleanor always found ways to make my life difficult. The walk to the bakery wasn’t long, but each step felt heavier than the last. I reminded myself to hurry — if I was late for work, Eleanor would have yet another reason to belittle me. I often wondered how she knew everything going on in our lives. The bakery smelled of warm bread, and for a moment, I allowed myself to inhale the comforting scent. But the sting from Eleanor’s slap and the coldness of Damien’s silence weighed me down. By the time I returned home, Eleanor was gone. Of course, she was gone — she always left without saying anything after making a scene. I rushed through my morning routine, slipping into a professional outfit and tying my hair into a neat bun. Breakfast was out of the question. My appetite had vanished along with my dignity. When I arrived at Sterling Enterprises, the towering building loomed over me, cold and intimidating, much like my husband. Inside the elevator, I could hear whispers. Employees were talking about me. This had been happening since I married Damien, the CEO of Sterling Enterprises and the most sought-after man in New York. But today’s gossip felt different, and the murmurs followed me all the way to Damien’s office. As I reached for the door, I braced myself for the day ahead. But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw inside. Sitting at Damien’s desk, casually leaning back in his chair as if she owned the place, was Ava Turner. Damien’s ex. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly, and her lips curved into a smug, self-assured smile — the kind that made my stomach churn. I froze, the air leaving my lungs. What is she doing here? The question echoed in my mind, but my voice refused to come.