CHAPTER 1
1551 Words
Samantha halted midway through the living room when she heard her father’s irritated voice echo from the top of the staircase.
“What are you doing here again?”
Ramon Refer’s tone wasn’t questioning—it was accusing. Tired. Bothered. As though her presence alone caused inconvenience. Samantha’s chest tightened, but she lifted her gaze anyway.
Her father descended the stairs slowly, his brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. Even in his sixties, Ramon moved with a rigid authority that made everyone around him shrink—including his own daughter.
Samantha clutched the strap of her bag, forcing her voice not to tremble. “I… I came to visit Thalia.”
At the mention of her dog’s name, a soft bark came from the corner of the living room. Thalia, her fluffy white Pomeranian, ran toward her and circled her feet happily. The sight made Samantha’s heart soften, but the warmth was short-lived.
Ramon rolled his eyes. “You’re here for the dog? Again?”
“She misses me,” Samantha said quietly, bending to scoop Thalia into her arms. The dog nuzzled her neck, and Samantha held back the tears she’d been fighting since last night.
Ramon scoffed. “That animal is getting too attached. Why don’t you take her home? It makes no sense keeping her here.”
Samantha stiffened. “I can’t. You know Rick doesn’t like dogs.”
“No—he hates them,” Ramon corrected bluntly, walking past her toward the kitchen. “And since you’re his wife, you should know better than to keep something he dislikes.”
His words stung. But they were familiar. Her father had always placed Rick—and the Mondragon family—in higher regard than his own daughter.
Samantha took a shaky breath and followed him into the kitchen, Thalia still in her arms. “I just needed to see her. That’s all.”
“That’s not all,” Ramon replied, not even looking at her. He pulled out a chair and sat down. “You had another argument with Rick, didn’t you?”
Samantha looked down. Her father didn’t need an answer; it was already written across her face.
Yesterday, someone from Rick’s company had spotted him having lunch with Catriona—again. Their intimacy had been impossible to hide. When Samantha confronted Rick that night, she expected him to deny it, or maybe get defensive. But instead…
“I will never love you,” he had said coldly.
“Catriona is the only woman I will ever love.”
The memory sliced through her chest like a knife.
“Samantha,” her father said, jolting her back to reality, “you should go back home and apologize.”
She blinked at him, stunned. “Apologize? For what?”
“For whatever you did to upset your husband,” Ramon replied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
Samantha felt as though someone had placed a heavy stone on her heart. Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak.
“I didn’t… do anything wrong. I only asked him about what he did.”
“And that was your mistake,” Ramon snapped. “A wife shouldn’t question her husband in that manner. If Rick was angry, then you must have provoked him.”
Tears pricked her eyes. Thalia whined softly in her arms, sensing her distress.
Her father continued, “Samantha, listen to me carefully. Your marriage to Rick is important—not just for you, but for our family. The Mondragons have helped me a lot. I won’t let you jeopardize that just because you’re too emotional.”
There it was again.
The truth she could never escape.
Ramon cared more about the alliance than his daughter’s happiness. More about favors and connections than her well-being. Samantha felt herself shrinking under the weight of that reality.
“I understand,” she whispered.
“Good,” her father said, standing up. “Now go home. Fix your mess. And leave the dog here. She’s better off in this house anyway.”
Samantha’s heart cracked at his words, but she nodded. She pressed a gentle kiss on Thalia’s head before placing her back on her bed in the living room.
“Be a good girl, okay?” she whispered.
Thalia barked once, her tail wagging as Samantha forced herself to walk away.
Her father didn’t even bother saying goodbye when she left.
The drive back home felt longer than usual. Streetlights blurred into streaks of white as Samantha blinked away emotional exhaustion. She rested her hand on the steering wheel, her mind circling the same thoughts.
Why does Rick hate me so much?
What did I do wrong?
Why can’t he at least try?
She had loved him since she was young—a love that grew quietly, painfully, and stubbornly. So when Rick’s grandfather arranged their marriage, Samantha believed it was fate giving her a chance.
But three years had passed.
Three years of cold shoulders.
Three years of silent dinners.
Three years of watching her husband love someone else.
Three years of trying, hoping, and breaking.
When she finally arrived home, she took a deep breath and stepped inside the house. The familiar quiet greeted her—an emptiness she had learned to live with.
I need to fix things, she told herself.
She placed her bag on the sofa and walked into the kitchen. Tonight, she would prepare Rick’s favorite pasta. Maybe it wasn’t enough, maybe nothing ever was—but she had to try.
She gathered the ingredients, humming a soft tune to distract her aching heart. The sound of garlic sizzling in the pan filled the kitchen with warmth she desperately needed. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a different life—
A life where Rick came home smiling.
Where he appreciated her cooking.
Where he reached out to hold her hand.
Where he loved her.
But reality always slammed back.
After finishing the dish, Samantha set it aside to keep warm. She then headed upstairs to shower before Rick arrived.
The warm water felt soothing as it flowed down her skin. Samantha wiped the foggy mirror and stared at her reflection. She traced the outline of her waist, her collarbone, the curve of her silhouette.
She had always been told she was beautiful—long legs, smooth skin, soft features. A woman others admired.
So why was she not enough?
“Is she… better than me?” she whispered, voice cracking.
Catriona. Rick’s first love. His only love. The perfect woman he saw, adored, and protected.
A woman Samantha could never replace.
She closed her eyes, letting the water wash over her as if it could rinse away the insecurity lodged deep in her heart.
After dressing in a simple yet elegant house dress, she went downstairs and began setting the table. Every detail mattered—Rick didn’t like messy arrangements. She folded the napkins neatly, adjusted the cutlery, made sure everything was perfect.
Then she waited.
Silence enveloped the house.
Twenty minutes passed.
Then forty.
An hour.
Her heart thumped anxiously as she scrolled through her phone, trying to distract herself. Thalia wasn’t at her feet like usual; the absence felt heavier than she expected.
Then suddenly—
Footsteps.
Samantha stood up quickly, smoothing her dress and brushing her hair behind her ear. She forced a hopeful smile.
But that smile died the moment she saw who Rick walked in with.
Catriona.
Rick entered the dining room with his arm wrapped possessively around Catriona’s waist. Samantha’s eyes widened, her breath lodging in her throat.
Her heart dropped so violently it felt like she had been stabbed.
“W-What… what is the meaning of this, Rick?” she stuttered.
Rick’s eyes were cold, unbothered. “Are you blind?”
Samantha’s stomach churned. Catriona leaned even closer to Rick, resting her hand on his chest as if claiming him in front of his own wife. And Rick allowed it.
Catriona’s lips curled into a smug, mocking smirk.
She looked at Samantha like she was nothing.
Rick pulled Catriona fully in front of him. “I’m with my girlfriend. So leave us alone.”
Samantha’s lips trembled. Her heart cracked. Her world spun.
“Y-Your… girlfriend?” she echoed, as if the word itself was impossible.
He didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t even pretend to hide it. Didn’t even spare her dignity.
Samantha let out a shaky, disbelief-filled laugh.
She couldn’t help it.
“I’m your wife, Rick,” she whispered.
Rick’s expression hardened. “And?”
The dismissal. The cruelty. The disrespect.
Everything inside her snapped.
“No,” Samantha said firmly, voice rising. “I will not leave. And I want that mistress out of our house!”
Catriona’s eyes widened, offended. Rick’s face darkened instantly.
It was the first time Samantha had raised her voice.
The first time she fought back.
Her hands trembled, but she held her ground.
She had endured the pain. The rejection. The humiliation.
But this—bringing another woman into their marital home—was too much.
Rick stepped closer, anger blazing in his eyes.
And Samantha realized something terrifying:
This night…
would be the beginning of a pain deeper than anything she had faced before.
- Writer
