When My Husband Chose His Golden Boy, I Chose His Worst Enemy

Clinton smirked, swirling his glass. “She’s just here for formalities. My real woman has always been Astrid. And this boy, Tyler, is my true heir.”

Tyler stood with confidence, walking to the piano. His fingers flew across the keys, filling the room with polished notes. Everyone clapped in admiration.

Beside me, Clyde’s eyes filled with tears, staring down at his ruined hands. His little fingers trembled as if remembering the pain.

Astrid tilted her head, her voice dripping with false pity. “Poor little Clyde. Can’t play the piano now? What a shame. It’s your mama’s fault—”

The fork in my hand clattered to the plate as I stood, “Don’t you dare poison my child’s mind. It was you who ruined his hands. You hired those thugs just to steal his spotlight for your son!”

Gasps spread around the table. Astrid’s lips trembled as tears spilled down her cheeks. She reached for Clinton, her voice weak, broken. “Savannah, why are you bullying me in front of Clinton and his business partners? What have I ever done to you to deserve this?”

Clinton’s chair screeched back, his eyes blazing as he rose to his feet.

Clinton’s chair slammed back and his roar shook the whole table. “How dare you shame Astrid in front of my partners!”

Before I could even breathe, his hand tangled in my hair and yanked hard. Pain burned across my scalp as he dragged me down, forcing me to kneel on the cold marble floor beside him.

Clyde’s cry tore through the room. “Papa, stop! Don’t hurt Mama!”

Clinton’s head snapped toward him, his voice low and cruel. “Shut up, boy. If you don’t stop crying, I’ll feed you to the snakes.”

My heart stopped. Clyde’s face went white, his little body shaking as he clung to my side. He had always been terrified of snakes, ever since Tyler shoved that python into his schoolbag and it bit his arm. I remembered the blood, the screams, and Clinton just shrugging, saying Clyde was being a pussy. He never protected him. Never.

Now Clyde buried his face against me, trembling so bad it broke me into pieces.

Around us, Clinton’s business partners shifted uncomfortably at first, then one of them chuckled. Another followed, and soon the whole table was laughing, throwing cruel jokes like knives. “The jealous wife doesn’t know her place.”

“Clinton, you should train her better.”

Astrid hid behind Clinton’s arm, clutching his sleeve, her voice soft and broken like a delicate flower. “Please, don’t hurt her too much. It’s my fault… she’s just jealous.” Her fake mercy only poured fuel on his rage.

His hand cracked across my face again. My cheek burned, my ears rang. “Apologize to Astrid right now!”

I shook my head, my lips trembling. “I didn’t—”

“Do it, Savannah!” he thundered. “Or your son loses everything. No more doctors. No school. No food. Let him rot with you in the streets.”

I froze. Tyler was still at the piano, smirking just like his mother, pounding the keys like victory drums. The maids bowed their heads, pity soft in their eyes, but not one of them dared to move.

I felt Clyde shaking beside me. For him… only for him… I lowered myself fully to the floor. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I whispered, “I’m sorry, Astrid.”

The men erupted with laughter and clinked their glasses. One of them smirked. “At least she’s obedient.”

Astrid wiped her fake tears, walking over with that sweet smile. She patted my head like I was nothing but a stray dog. “It’s alright, Savannah is just sick from jealousy. I’ll forgive her.”

The men praised her like she was a saint, their words cutting into me.

“Such kindness.”

“What a forgiving woman.”

Clyde’s small voice cracked through the noise. “Don’t talk to my mama like that! She’s not sick!”

Clinton’s face turned black with fury. He snapped his fingers. “Take that bastard out of here before he embarrasses me further.”

The maids hesitated, then gently pulled Clyde from my arms. He screamed, clawing at me, but they dragged him out while I sat on the floor, my body shaking, my heart bleeding out.

Clinton raised his glass proudly. “This is why discipline keeps women in their place.”

The men laughed, one leaning back and sneering. “Lock her in the basement until she learns some manners.”

Clinton smirked. “Maybe I should.”

I stayed silent, trembling, swallowing my screams. If I spoke again, it would only be worse.

When the guests finally left, the villa grew quiet. My cheek still burned, my hair still tangled from his grip. I walked through the hallway, and there Astrid cornered me, her perfume choking me.

She leaned in, her whisper sharp as knives. “Did you see how they all laughed at you? Even Clinton doesn’t see you as a wife anymore. Soon, you’ll be nothing but a maid. Or maybe he’ll throw you and your bastard out into the streets.”

Her eyes glinted as she smiled. “Tyler will replace Clyde in everything. Music. Legacy. Even love.”

I couldn’t answer. My throat was raw, my heart ripped apart.

That night, back in the cramped maid’s quarters, I lay beside Clyde. His breathing was uneven, his little fists clenched even in sleep.

I pressed my hand over my mouth and cried silently, choking on every sob. But somewhere deep inside, something shifted. A seed of fire. Clinton would never protect me. Astrid would never stop until Clyde was destroyed.

In the dark, I whispered to myself, “One day… I’ll make them regret everything.”

Then my phone lit up on the table. The name flashed across the screen. Rafael Ambramov.

“Hello?”

His voice came low and cold, steady like steel. “Seven days are almost over, Savannah. Get ready. I am coming to Europe to collect what’s mine.”