I Married the Richest Man Instead

Seeing that I had agreed, Grayson finally showed a pleased expression. He came closer and whispered to me, "Don't worry. You're obedient, sensible, and the perfect match for my status. Only you are worthy of being my wife.

"Maeve comes from nothing and has a wild temper. She's only fit to be a mistress. She'll never be able to threaten your position as Mrs. Thatcher."

In my past life, he had said the exact same thing. Mom had also advised me that all men were like this, especially wealthy men. Expecting them to be faithful was impossible. Dad had women on the side too, but he knew his limits and always prioritized our family.

Hence, I endured it again and again. Like some traditional matriarch, I tolerated his endless parade of women, cleaned up his mess, and single-handedly built up the Thatcher family's business so that he had enough money to squander.

What I got in return were countless cold, lonely nights eating reheated leftovers by myself, birthdays that were never remembered, and hospital stays during illness without my other half by my side.

I had thought about divorce, but the moment that idea surfaced, Mom personally crushed it.

"If a man doesn't come home, it's because you're not doing enough. You're not being understanding enough. Don't worry. He's just young right now, so he likes those wild, crazy women out there. When he's older, he'll understand how important a good wife is."

I waited and endured. I never got those better days. Instead, I ended up with a terminal illness.

My obedience earned me his resentment, his complaints that I was boring, and the declaration that I did not even deserve to be buried beside him.

The qualities I took pride in became reasons for him to trample on me. The business I had worked so hard to build ended up benefiting the adulterous pair instead.

What a ridiculous life.

Grayson turned toward Maeve.

"Alright, babe. The engagement's postponed. Are you satisfied now? All these people are watching. Can we stop making a scene?"

However, Maeve had no intention of backing down. She stared at the bracelet around my wrist and pouted in dissatisfaction.

"But you're still going to marry her eventually. You think throwing me this scrap is enough? What am I, a beggar? I want that bracelet! Otherwise, I'm not dropping the rape charge. You'll end up in jail either way, and then you won't be able to get married at all!"

I raised an eyebrow, covered the bracelet with my other hand, and stepped back warily. "This is the only thing my grandmother left me."

Grayson sighed and pulled Maeve aside to comfort her for a while. She still refused to compromise, shouting loudly and drawing an even bigger crowd. His anger flared instantly, though not at Maeve. He turned on me instead.

"People can't come back from the dead. It's just a bracelet. Give it to her! Do you have to push Maeve to make a scene and embarrass both our families before you're happy?"

It was his mess, and Maeve was the one causing the scene. I had done absolutely nothing wrong. Yet he was trying to pin all the blame on me and force me to hand over my grandmother's keepsake.

Absolutely not.

When Grayson saw that I would not give it up, he reached out and grabbed it.

I had not expected him to resort to force in front of everyone. Before I could react, he yanked the bracelet off my wrist roughly. A sharp pain shot through my arm. When I looked up, I saw Grayson gently cradling Maeve's hand, carefully slipping the bracelet onto her wrist as if he was afraid of hurting her.

In my memory, he was always rough and reckless. Only with Maeve did he become tender and careful. That was what it looked like to truly love someone. He instinctively protected her and cherished her.

In my past life, even until my death, I had still been hoping that my obedience and understanding would earn me even a sliver of that love.

I shook my head to clear away those thoughts and moved forward to snatch the bracelet back. "Give me back what's mine!"

I had barely gotten close when Maeve pretended to twist her ankle. With a theatrical cry, she fell toward the ground, deliberately slamming the hand wearing the bracelet down hard.

The sharp sound of something shattering cut through the noise distinctly. The air went silent for a moment.

I stared at the bracelet that had been broken into three pieces. My heartbeat stopped.

My grandmother had raised me since I was little. Before she passed, she was most worried about me, so she gave me her most precious and valuable possession. Yet I had failed to protect it.

Maeve made an exaggerated show of shock, but her eyes glinted with cunning. "Oops, I broke it by accident. You won't blame me for that, will you, Calla?"

That provocative tone and those mocking eyes completely ignited the rage that had been building inside me. Thinking back on all the humiliation I had suffered at her hands in both my past and present lives, I could no longer maintain my composure.

I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face.