The Billionaire Regret

Chapter Four

‎The first light of morning filtered weakly through the curtains when the maid's knock came.

‎"Madam, breakfast is ready."

‎Her voice was soft, but I caught the hesitation, the pity that trailed after the words.

‎I rose slowly, every limb heavy. My reflection in the glass was no better than the night before. My skin, pale and lifeless. My lips drained of color. The bottle of pills on the nightstand gleamed accusingly, its cap half open, waiting.

‎Two pills already felt like chains around my throat, but I swallowed them dry anyway, forcing my body into motion.

‎The corridor outside hummed with whispers. I caught them before the maids scattered.

‎"Did you see? They moved her to the guest room. It is as good as exile."

‎"And Elizabeth... she slept in his chamber. The master did not hide it."

‎"Poor woman, imagine serving the mistress in your own house."

‎Their giggles, sharp and cruel, scattered like glass shattering.

‎I descended the stairs. At the long mahogany table, Elizabeth sat already, wrapped in silk the color of blood. She smiled lazily, like the throne was hers. Daniel sat beside her, reading the morning paper, unbothered by the storm he created.

‎"Good morning," I managed, my voice low.

‎Daniel did not answer. He flicked his hand instead, the signal for me to sit. The chair at the far end of the table, distant from him, had been set for me. A small plate, plain, almost insulting.

‎The butler appeared with a tray, but it was not for me. He placed steaming eggs and glazed ham before Elizabeth. Fresh fruit in crystal bowls. A glass of rich wine at her elbow, though it was still morning.

‎"Too much," Elizabeth murmured with a laugh, turning her gaze toward me. "Why don't you serve me? I would so hate to waste."

‎The butler froze, uncertain. Daniel lowered his newspaper, his expression unreadable.

‎"Go ahead," he said. "It is only polite."

‎My throat tightened, but my hands moved before I could protest. I took the silver spoon, ladled eggs onto her plate, cut fruit into neat slices. The humiliation burned, every motion a reminder that this was my table, my house, yet I was reduced to waiting on the woman who wanted me erased.

‎Elizabeth's smirk widened. "Careful," she purred. "You nearly dropped the spoon. How clumsy weakness makes you."

‎I stilled. The maids along the walls tried to look away, but I saw their eyes flicker, hungry for the drama.

‎Finally, I set the last dish before her.

‎"Is that enough?" I asked quietly.

‎Elizabeth leaned back, tilting her head as if studying a servant. "For now. Though I hear you are not eating much yourself. Perhaps you should feed me first, so you remember how it feels."

‎My fingers clenched around the spoon. The insult cut sharp.

‎Daniel folded the paper, at last giving me his attention. "Enough, Elizabeth."

‎For one heartbeat, I thought he would spare me. That he would call back some shred of the man who once swore vows to me.

‎But then his eyes shifted, cold and assessing. "Do not look at her like that," he told me flatly. "She has done nothing wrong. If anyone has, it is you."

‎I swallowed, tasting the bitterness at the back of my throat. "I am your wife," I whispered.

‎The words cracked the air.

‎Elizabeth's laugh spilled, low and taunting. "Not for much longer."

‎The room went still. My heart pounded. Something inside me, raw and desperate, finally broke.

‎"You humiliate me in my own home," I said, my voice trembling but loud enough to carry. "You put me in the guest room like a stranger. You let them all whisper. And now you sit here, letting her take what was mine. How much more, Daniel? How much lower must I fall before you are satisfied?"

‎Gasps rippled among the staff. The butler's hands tightened over the tray he held. Even Elizabeth's smile faltered for a breath.

‎Daniel's gaze hardened. His jaw set. Slowly, deliberately, he rose from his chair.

‎"Enough," he said.

‎"No," I answered, surprising even myself. My hands shook, but the fire that had stirred in me since the pills began their slow torment burned hotter. "Not enough. I will not be silent while you destroy me."

‎The silence afterward was suffocating. Elizabeth's smirk returned, thin and sharp, as though she wanted to see what he would do.

‎Daniel's hand moved before I could react. The slap cracked across my face, hot and stinging. My head snapped to the side. The taste of blood filled my mouth.

‎The maids gasped aloud this time. One dropped a fork to the floor.

‎I did not fall. I stayed standing, my palm pressed to my burning cheek, blood coating my tongue. My eyes blurred, but I did not cry.

‎Daniel's voice was ice. "Know your place. If you cannot accept it, then leave this house."

‎Elizabeth rose, looping her arm through his. Her smile gleamed like victory.

‎"She will learn," she said sweetly, resting her head against his shoulder. "Or she will fade away."

‎Their laughter carried as they walked out, leaving me standing at the end of the table, the maids frozen in horrified silence.

‎I straightened, though my cheek throbbed, though blood lingered on my lips. My gaze swept over the servants. They dropped their eyes, ashamed of being caught watching.

‎But I knew they would talk. They would repeat it all in whispers by nightfall.

‎The madam slapped in front of them. The madam bled at breakfast.

‎I walked out slowly, my hand trembling, my mind reeling.

‎In the guest room, I shut the door behind me and pressed my forehead to the wood. The toxin churned inside me, making my skin crawl, making my strength falter. But the fire inside did not go out.

‎They wanted me erased. They wanted me weak, forgotten, discarded.

‎But I tasted blood, and with it came resolve.

‎This was not my end.