He Married Me Because I Resembled His Late Wife

After what happened, I went inside my room, shutting the door behind me. My heart pounded in my chest, but not from fear—just exhaustion. Every second in this house drained me. Every breath felt like a battle.

I sank onto the bed and reached for my phone. With trembling fingers, I dialed the divorce lawyer.

“Send the papers as soon as possible,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “I don’t care how much it costs. Just make sure Cameron gets them within the week.”

“Understood, Mrs. Smith,” the lawyer replied. “You’ll have them by tomorrow.”

Mrs. Smith. I hated that name.

After ending the call, another message popped up.

Brother: Everything is ready. Just hold on a little longer. You leave on Tyron’s birthday.

I let out a slow breath, gripping my phone like a lifeline. Just a few more days. I had to endure this hell for just a little longer.

But leaving meant going back—to a home I once ran from.

Years ago, after our parents died, my brother wanted me to stay and help run the business. But I was young, reckless, and grieving. I didn’t want to be tied down by responsibilities or expectations. I wanted freedom. And Cameron had been my escape.

I thought he was my salvation.

I was wrong.

Now, I had no choice but to return. I had to pick up the pieces I left behind because staying here would destroy me.

A loud thud snapped me from my thoughts.

I sat up, listening. The sound had come from Cameron’s office. Something heavy had fallen.

Without thinking, I rushed out of my room and down the hall. When I reached the office, my eyes widened at the mess inside. Papers were scattered everywhere. The blueprint of one of Cameron’s most important projects lay crumpled on the floor.

And in the middle of the chaos stood Tyron.

Smirking.

“Oops,” he said, feigning innocence. “Sorry. Daddy will surely get mad at you.”

My stomach twisted in frustration. I had spent five years trying to love this boy, trying to be there for him. And still, he wanted to see me suffer.

“Enough,” I said, my patience running thin. “Tyron, why would you do this? Do you even understand how important those papers are?”

He shrugged, kicking at a pile of documents like they meant nothing.

I clenched my fists. “You can’t just do whatever you want and expect no consequences.” My voice rose slightly, exasperation spilling over. “One day, this attitude will—”

Tyron’s lip trembled. Then, in an instant, he started crying.

Before I could even process what was happening, he turned and ran.

And then—

A thud. A sharp cry.

My breath caught as I saw him sprawled on the floor, holding his knee. His wails filled the air, loud and piercing.

I rushed forward, but before I could help him, a new voice cut through the tension.

“She pushed him.”

I turned sharply. Nadine stood at the doorway, arms crossed, eyes alight with cruel amusement.

“What?” My voice shook with disbelief. “I did not—”

“Cameron!” Nadine’s voice rang through the house. “Come here, quick! Zoe hurt Tyron!”

Panic surged through me.

Heavy footsteps thundered down the hall. Within seconds, Cameron appeared, his gaze immediately locking onto the scene—Tyron sobbing on the floor, Nadine standing over him like a protective mother, and me, standing helplessly in the middle of it all.

“What the hell did you do?” Cameron’s voice was sharp, accusing.

“I didn’t do anything!” I shot back, my pulse pounding. “He tripped while running—”

Cameron’s jaw tightened. “So, you’re saying Tyron is lying?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Silence.

Tyron sniffled, then looked up at his father, eyes wet but filled with something else—triumph.

“I—I just wanted to play…” he mumbled. “But she got mad. She yelled at me… and then…” He hiccupped. “She doesn’t like me, Daddy.”

My nails dug into my palms.

Cameron turned to me, his face darkening. “If anything worse had happened to him, Zoe, I swear—”

“I didn’t do anything!” I snapped, frustration boiling over. “And you never listen to me! You believe her without question. You believe your son even when he lies. But me? I’m always the villain, aren’t I?”

Cameron’s expression was ice. “That’s because you are the villain, Zoe.”

His words sliced through me.

I took a shaky breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Then why keep me here? Why not just let me go?”

He scoffed, stepping closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

“Because you still serve a purpose,” he murmured. “And because I enjoy watching you break.”

Something inside me snapped.

For years, I had stayed. For years, I had endured. But I was done.

My lips curled into a bitter smile. “You know what, Cameron?” I whispered, shaking my head. “Fine. You win. I don’t care anymore.”

I turned to Tyron, who was still watching me, waiting for me to beg or apologize.

I knelt in front of him, leveling my gaze with his. “You’ve always made it clear that you don’t want me as your mother,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Well, I finally agree with you.”

I stood up, dusting off my dress as I turned on my heel. “So congratulations, Tyron. You got what you wanted. I will never be your mother because I hate evil children!”

With that, I walked away.

I was done being the weak girl.