My Ex’s Nemesis

ELYRA.

The banging dragged me out of sleep like a hand yanking my hair.

I groaned and rolled over, burying my face into the pillow, hoping and praying it would stop. My body felt heavy, the kind of heavy that came from sleeping with a troubled mind. Last night had been a blur of anger and confusion. After Radiel left, I had left my dinner halfway. The thought of sitting at that long table, surrounded by silence and servants who watched without looking, had turned my stomach. So I had returned to my room, alone, and eventually sleep took me.

Now, someone was ruining it.

The banging came again, louder and sharper, like they were offended that I hadn’t answered the first time.

My eyes snapped open. My heart jumped straight into annoyance.

“What the hell?” I muttered, pushing myself up. “Who bangs on a door this early?”

Before I could even throw the covers off or ask who it was, the door suddenly flew open.

I sucked in a breath.

A petite maid walked in like she owned the room.

She couldn’t have been much older than me. She was slim, sharp-eyed, hair tied tightly at the back of her head. She didn’t look surprised to see me sitting up in bed, my hair messy, face still heavy with sleep. If anything, she looked bored.

For a second, I just stared at her, then I felt the irritation rush through me.

“Excuse me?” I snapped. “Do you usually enter people’s rooms without permission?”

She shrugged, not even bothering to dignify my comment with a word. She just lifted one shoulder like my question wasn’t worth the effort of answering.

That was when my irritation shifted into something hotter.

I was sure—absolutely sure—that the secretary had introduced me yesterday. Even though I hated the title, even though it felt like a chain around my neck, she had still said it clearly.

I was the boss’s new wife. So why was this girl standing in my room like I was nothing more than an inconvenience?

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?” I demanded. “It’s rude to barge into someone’s room.”

She finally spoke, her voice flat and unapologetic.

“I’m here to check if you’re still alive.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“We served breakfast,” she went on, looking around the room as if searching for something interesting. “You didn’t come down. So I came to see if you were dead or just too lazy to get up. The latter seems to be the answer, considering what time it is.”

For a moment, I honestly thought I had misheard her. My chest tightened, just as I lifted my gaze to glance at the wall clock.

“Are you right in the head?” I asked sharply. “Who are you to speak to me like that?”

She looked at me then, really looked at me. Her eyes swept over my face, my rumpled nightdress, my bare feet dangling off the bed. The look she gave me wasn’t respectful. It wasn’t even curious.

I felt embarrassed by her stare.

Something inside me snapped.

“Don’t look at me like that, and if you've got nothing else to say, please leave my room,” I snapped, gripping the bedsheet. “You’re crossing a line.”

She scoffed.

“A line?” she repeated. “Do you think you’re a princess or something?”

I stared at her.

“You didn’t come down for breakfast,” she continued, her tone dripping with spite. “So I thought maybe you expected it to be served to you in bed.”

That was it.

“That’s enough!” I said, my voice shaking now. “Do you even know who you’re addressing?”

She tilted her head, studying me like I was a puzzle she had already solved.

“Oh, I do,” she said calmly. “You’re the boss’s puppet wife.”

The words hit me harder than a slap. My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Puppet wife?

“And so what?” she added, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I felt the blood drain from my face, my hands stiff as my sides as I stared at her in shock. My mind scrambled for words, for something sharp enough to throw back at her, but all I could do was sit there, stunned. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure she could hear it.

She gave me a slow, deliberate once-over—not even trying to hide the insolence in her eyes. Then, very abruptly, she turned around and walked out, just like that.

The door closed behind her with a soft click that somehow felt louder than the banging that had woken me.

I sat there for a long moment, unmoving. The room felt too quiet. My hands slowly tightened into fists.

“That didn’t just happen,” I whispered to myself. “It couldn’t have.”

Maybe I was still asleep. Maybe this was some strange dream caused by everything that had happened so fast—marriage, this house, Radiel’s coldness…

Yes. That had to be it.

I swung my legs off the bed and stood up, my feet sinking into the soft carpet. The room looked the same as always. Too big. Too perfect. Too unfamiliar.

If it was a dream, it felt painfully real.

I walked to the mirror and stared at my reflection—my messy hair, the slight dark circles under my eyes. I was a woman who still hadn't recognize herself as someone else's wife.

“Puppet wife,” I murmured.

The words tasted bitter.

Anger slowly replaced the shock. Not just at the maid—but at the situation. At how easily people assumed things about me. At how quickly I had been reduced to a title I never asked for.

I took a deep breath.

“No,” I said out loud. “I won’t accept this.”

I quickly washed up and changed, choosing a simple dress. Nothing fancy. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. But I also wasn’t going to walk downstairs looking small.

As I stood before the dresser, staring at my reflection on the mirror, my heart beat fast—not with fear, but with resolve. If the maid—and anyone else—thought I was a puppet, I was going to show them just how very wrong they were.