Revenge Contract

“What? Don't you know you're no longer our family when you get married off? You should think about your family now that you're married. You shouldn't be so greedy". Mother’s words struck me like a slap across the face. My stomach twisted, and the urge to cry rose so suddenly that I had to bite my lip to hold it back. "I'm so sorry Mother," I whispered, my voice trembling as tears welled, threatening to spill with just a blink. "Hurry up and get rid of it,” she said coldly, pressing on. “We don't want anyone to think our exhibition is lousy with this disgusting art," and without another glance, she turned to leave. "That's so harsh Mother," Elena added with a curl of her lips, her tone mocking as her gaze fell on my painting. "Instead of looking at the painting, can't you see how I feel? Sure, I may not be up to your standard, but I worked so hard on it with all my heart," I burst out, tears rolling freely down my cheeks. "Hey listen, you were working on that painting while you should've been working harder. That's why I was upset. "I'm sorry. I misunderstood you. It's for a good cause, so I'm doing my best and I won't disappoint you," I said quickly, desperate for her approval. "Let me know if you need anything," she tossed over her shoulder as she left the room, not even looking back. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to soothe the ache lodged there. It did no good. It still hurt—hurt so deeply—that no matter what I did, I could never please my parents with the one thing I was good at. Growing up, I was the child left in the shadows. Neglected, overlooked, and forgotten. Father and Mother’s world revolved around my sister, Elena. She was the shining one, the favorite, the one who always got what she wanted. I, on the other hand, was just Emma. Nobody’s favorite. I had always felt unwanted, unwelcome—not only in my parents’ home but in my husband’s family too. Unless they needed something from me, I was invisible. I had tried so hard—good grades in school, endless housework, thoughtful gifts—but nothing was ever enough. I remained an outsider, looking in on a family portrait where I did not belong. As I stood before my painting, lost in my thoughts, the creak of the door startled me. The sound of polished shoes clicked softly across the marble floor, drawing closer. My heart thudded with each step until I turned and saw him—Amory. His smile was gentle, his eyes bright as they landed on my work. "Wow," he said, genuine admiration lacing his voice. "That's really impressive! You have such talent." His words washed over me like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Warmth filled me, chasing away the chill of my mother’s cruelty. For the first time that day, I felt seen. Appreciated. It reminded me of that old saying: you never truly value something until it’s gone. That was how his words struck me—like a treasure I hadn’t known I needed until it was offered. The door opened again. This time, Elena and my husband walked in together, their voices mingling casually. "Amory, why didn't you call me to let me know you came?" Elena asked brightly. "I was studying your sister's painting," he replied in that deep, steady voice that filled the room. "Hello sir," my husband greeted quickly. He worked under Amory, after all—Amory was the CEO, while my husband was only a manager. Elena slipped away from my husband’s side and joined me. She slid her hand through my arm, smiling sweetly. "Isn't she amazing? I was really impressed," she said, her eyes meeting mine. Deceit glittered in her gaze. Just moments ago, she had mocked me, and now she praised me? "That's enough, Elena," my husband muttered. "Shouldn't you be boasting if your wife is so talented? Why are you stopping me from appreciating her? Do you even love my sister?" Her words cut the air like a blade. My chest tightened with unease at the sharpness of her jab. "What?" Zayn stammered, clearly rattled. "Why are you so surprised? I heard Emma confessed to you first. She wouldn't even know how you feel if you don't express it. Don't you agree, Amory?" Before Amory could respond, my husband drew in a deep breath. "Come on," I blurted, my heart racing. I couldn’t let Elena twist the knife deeper. "He doesn't have to express it for me to know." "Really? How?" Elena pressed, her eyes narrowing. I lifted my chin and gave her a small, steady smile. "Because of the time we've spent together. You don't have to say it to know it's love. You can feel it from the way one acts and from words like 'Sorry' or 'thank you'." Amory cleared his throat, looking down at his feet. "Really? I don't agree," Elena scoffed, ever eager to mock. "I'm sorry. Thank you. That's what people say to get away. Love is something you should have conviction about. You should be able to tell who that person loves just by the look in their eyes. Don't you think so, Amory?" My heart pounded as she threw the question at him. I held my breath, waiting. "I'm not sure. I think it depends on the person. I think Emma's way of expressing love is fine," he said at last. Relief washed through me. "Really? How so?" Elena pushed again. Amory slipped his hand into his pocket and looked back at my painting. "To Emma, Mr. Zayn must look this handsome. I didn't know a man could receive so much love from a woman," he said, then turned to my husband. "It's a huge compliment. Enough to make a man jealous." Elena shot me a sly glance, but for once, I felt comfortable. She always wanted the world to echo her opinions, but not this time. "Now that I think about it, you're right. I didn't know my brother-in-law was so handsome," she said, moving to Zayn’s side. She seized his hand and pressed it against hers. "What do you think? How is it? Don't we look better together?" Amory frowned at the sight, while my husband tried weakly to free his hand. "Why? Are you uncomfortable? Am I not good enough for you?" Elena pressed on Zayn said nothing. He just smiled faintly, stopped resisting, and let her hold him. I didn’t have to let anyone explain the truth to me. His face said it all as the corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. He was madly in love with her. Even though he was my husband, he was giving her a look of love he had never once given me.