My Husband Discarded Me, His Boss Accepted Me

Giovanni's POV

"Those earrings belong to my mum! Are you trying to steal her things now—after stealing her place?" Eric's, my stepson voice boomed through the hall the moment I stepped in. "So now you're even trying to look like her to get attention? Take them off. Now!"

All eyes were suddenly on me.

He's my twin sister’s son—the boy I’ve raised like my own since she passed away.

"Eric, stop it," I managed to say, my voice barely steady.

Then, he burst into tears.

"Daddy, daddy, she's trying to steal my mummy’s place on her birthday! Will you just stand there and watch her?"

My chest tightened. I almost cried.

I expected Mark my husband to step in, but he just stood watching the scene. I knew he despised me—I was just a replacement for my dead sister. But I never imagined he'd let a ten-year-old humiliate me in front of everyone.

"I’m only trying to connect with my sister," I stuttered.

"Liar, a murderer, you killed her" he shouted, and

there were murmurs in the crowd. Everyone’s words twisted against me like knives. Like I was the bad one. Like I was the intruder.

I humiliation was much that I couldn't breath through it, so I ran away.

******

Once in my room, I fell onto my bed, tears pouring down my face.

Today was my birthday too, but no one ever celebrated me. Every year, it was her birthday they celebrated—even though she’s been dead for five years.

I couldn’t help but wonder—who celebrates the dead over the living?

Eric used to be a sweet boy before my sister passed away when he was five. But now, he hates me. He always says I had the chance to save her, but I didn’t. How could I, when I’m also living with one kidney? He hates me, but I tolerate him because I promised my sister. I only promised to take care of her son, but my parents convinced me to marry Mark so that no woman would ever take my sister’s place.

I picked up my phone and dialed my mum’s number.

“Mum, I’m done with this. I want a divorce. I can’t continue with Mark and Eric anymore,” I said, straight to the point.

“Giovanni… Are you kidding?” she asked. “Eric is just a kid. He’s your son too. Remember, you promised your sister—he’s your responsibility.”

“He made it clear, Mum. I’m not his mother. He hates me. I thought this was supposed to end. I agreed to this because I wanted to help raise Eric. But he’s ten now. He’s not a baby anymore.”

“See who’s here, pretending to be the victim,” Eric said, standing by my door with a wicked grin on his face.

“Mum, let’s talk later,” I said and hung up.

I stood up from the bed, facing him even though I felt completely drained.

“Eric, why do you keep doing this to me?” I asked.

“I hate you. Your pretending disgusts me.” Before I knew it, he pulled out the toy gun he had been hiding and sprayed it. I realized too late that he had mixed chili pepper with the water—the moment it touched my eyes, it burned like fire.

He laughed as he watched me suffer.

“I’m going to make your life miserable until you leave. This is my mother’s home. You can never take her place. You watched her die, and now you want to shine and live like nothing happened.”

His face showed nothing but hatred. I never imagined he would grow up like this. I had tried everything to be there for him as a mother.

“I’m going to leave for good tomorrow, so you don’t have to worry,” I said, my voice low, and walked out of the room.

I was tired. Emotionally drained. But nothing prepared me for what I saw in the living room.

My music award—shattered on the floor.

I froze.

That was the only thing I’d ever been proud of. A symbol of everything I once dreamed of. I earned it after that one big performance years ago. The one Giulia—my twin—helped me pull off, despite our father disapproval.

My jaw tightened.

“Did you like that? I heard you love surprises” Eric said, voice sweet like poison.

I turned to him slowly, the rage rising in my chest.

“How could you?” I snapped, louder than I intended.

He flinched. I saw it. Probably because it was the first time I ever raised my voice at him.

“You’re going to fix this.”

But before he could speak, a strong hand yanked me back. I was thrown to the floor—hard. Pain shot through my spine as I hit the tiles.

I whimpered, biting back a scream.

"Have you gone crazy? Is this how you treat kids?" Mark's voice was cold, sharp like a slap to the face.

He looked at the shattered award on the floor. "You're making a scene over an ordinary award?"

Ordinary to him. But to me, it was a memory. A moment I held onto when everything else was falling apart.

"Clean up the mess," he said. "And stop trying to stir things up."

I didn’t move. My voice was steady, even though my hands were shaking.

“Mark, let’s divorce.”