## Winning $5 million in the lottery was supposed to be a turning point for our family. My husband, Ryan, promised to buy me a beautiful new house—a symbol of our success and a fresh start. But on the very day we moved in, his first love waltzed through the door, clutching her son, tears streaming down her face. She claimed her husband had recently passed away and that she had nowhere else to go. Before I could even react, Ryan’s face filled with pity, and he ushered her and her son into the house without so much as a second thought. And not just anywhere—he moved her into the master bedroom. Yes, our bedroom. Now there were three of us in the house, except one of us happened to be the woman Ryan dated for seven years. When I lost my temper, yelling and demanding an explanation, Ryan didn’t apologize. Instead, he turned on me, full of righteous indignation. “Emily, how could you be so cruel? You know her husband just died! She’s a widow with a child. You want me to throw them out on the street? When did you become so heartless?” Even Ryan’s mom, who had always acted like the sweet, doting grandma, suddenly revealed her true colors. “Look at all those rich men with four or five wives,” she said with a smug smile. “My son’s a millionaire now—it’s only natural he’d take in another woman. And since she was here first, it’s perfectly fair to let you be the second wife. You should consider yourself lucky!” I looked at Ryan, hoping he’d at least argue against his mother’s outrageous claims, but instead, he nodded quietly in agreement. That was it. I picked up my phone and called my lawyer. Ryan assumed I was giving in. He even had the audacity to walk around the house with his ex, Michelle, gleefully showing her the villa as if they were a happy couple buying their dream home. But what Ryan forgot—what Michelle didn’t know—was that the $5 million was my lottery win. And I’d rather donate every last cent to charity than let him spend a dime on his mistress.
I had just hung up the phone with my lawyer when Ryan appeared behind me, his tone full of forced patience, as if I were the one being unreasonable. “Emily, listen,” he began, his voice dripping with condescension. “If I hadn’t been picking you up from work that day years ago, I wouldn’t have missed Michelle’s wedding. She wouldn’t have ended up marrying that jerk, and maybe he wouldn’t have died so young. Now she’s a widow, and she has a kid to take care of. If I don’t help them, who will?” I turned to look at him, stunned by his twisted reasoning. “And moving her into our bedroom? What’s the plan, Ryan—should the three of us all sleep together now? Or would a hotel not work for her? Does she have to live here just to make me uncomfortable?” Ryan’s face darkened with irritation. “Emily, why are you being so irrational? Michelle and I are history, you know that. If her husband hadn’t died suddenly, she wouldn’t even be here. She’s out of options—I’m just doing what any decent person would. Why are you so obsessed with targeting her?” Targeting her? That was rich. Michelle and Ryan had been high school sweethearts, dating all the way through college for seven years until their relationship fell apart because of long-distance jobs. Two months after their breakup, she married an older, wealthy businessman. When I met Ryan, he was drowning his sorrows in a bar, heartbroken and bitter over Michelle’s betrayal. He seemed like a loyal, devoted man, so much so that I actually felt bad for him. We reconnected a few weeks later at work, and I took it as a sign—fate, even. I added him on social media, and over time, we became close. Eventually, he moved on from Michelle and fell for me. We had a whirlwind romance, and just months later, we got married. I still remember our wedding day vividly. Ryan stood in front of all our family and friends, holding my hands as he said I was the one who had saved him, the love of his life, and the reason he believed in happiness again. But now, here he was, willing to make me cry just so Michelle and her son could live in our home. I clutched my chest, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “So, you’re really insisting on letting Michelle move in?” I asked, my voice calm but cold. Ryan hesitated for a moment, then clenched his jaw and said, “It’s not like I’m making her my wife, Emily. Why are you blowing this out of proportion? Her son calls me Uncle Ryan—I have a responsibility to them. And now that we’ve won the lottery, I’m the only one who can give Michelle the life she deserves.” I stared at him, my heart sinking further with every word. “She’s a widow, Emily,” he continued, completely blind to how hurt I was. “How can I leave her out there, alone, struggling to raise her child? And it’s not like we can’t afford it. Michelle even said she’d handle all the housework—cleaning, cooking, taking care of our daughter. What else do you want?” It was clear to me now. Ryan had already decided how this new arrangement would work. He’d play the role of the generous provider, Michelle would be the homemaker, and I—his actual wife—was apparently just a bystander in my own marriage. I remained silent, unable to find the words to express how betrayed I felt. Seeing me hesitate, Ryan’s tone grew sharper, more aggressive. “You know her husband just died!” he snapped. “And you still want to throw her onto the streets? When did you become so cruel, Emily? When did you turn into such a heartless, selfish woman?” I lifted my head to meet his gaze, expecting to see regret or even shame in his eyes. But there was none. Instead, he looked at me with anger and disgust, as if I were the one in the wrong. In that moment, something inside me broke. I felt nothing but emptiness. “Fine,” I said quietly, my voice void of emotion. “She can stay as long as she wants.” Ryan blinked, caught off guard by my sudden change in tone. Then, a triumphant smirk spread across his face. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “If you’d just been reasonable from the start, we wouldn’t have had to argue. Now come help Michelle bring in her bags.” I shook my head and looked him dead in the eye. “Congratulations, Ryan. I hope you and Michelle have a long and happy life together. I’ll be heading back to my parents’ house for now.” His smile disappeared in an instant. He stepped forward, blocking my path, his face dark with anger. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded. “It means,” I said evenly, “that I’m done. With you. With this marriage. With all of it.” I reached for my four-year-old daughter’s hand and started toward the stairs, but before I could make it, Ryan’s mother stormed into the room, her face twisted with fury. “You’re not taking my granddaughter anywhere!” she shrieked. “What will people say if you walk out on my son? Do you want to ruin his reputation? You’ll stay right here where you belong!” I let out a bitter laugh, meeting her glare with one of my own. “Oh, I see,” I said sarcastically. “You want me to stay so I can play maid to your son’s mistress? How thoughtful of you.”
Ryan’s mom stared at me with utter disdain, her voice dripping with mockery. “Who are you calling a mistress? Watch your mouth! If we’re going by who came first, you’re the other woman!” She crossed her arms smugly and continued, “Look at all those casino tycoons with four or five wives. My son’s rich now—what’s so wrong with him taking care of another woman? Michelle’s prettier and better suited to represent the family in public anyway. Why don’t you just stay home, do the chores, and serve us?” Her audacity left me speechless for a moment, then I laughed. “All this over $5 million? You’re comparing yourselves to billionaires? What are you even bringing to the table—your half-baked ideas and your underdeveloped brain?” I laughed louder than I should have, but I didn’t care. “Ah, yes, you’re ugly, but at least you’ve got delusions of grandeur!” That was all it took for Ryan’s mom to lose it. She jabbed her finger in my face, her voice shrill and furious. “How dare you talk to me like that? No manners at all! You’ve been in this new house for weeks, and you still don’t know how to cook! You have no respect for the family. My son must have been cursed in his past life to end up with someone like you!” Ryan, of course, silently took her side, stepping closer to her with a cold glare aimed at me. Like mother, like son. The same rotten attitude. I crossed my arms, my gaze icy as I stood my ground. “Didn’t your new bride promise to handle all the housework? Let her do it!” Michelle must have overheard me, because she immediately appeared in the doorway, tears welling up in her eyes. She let out a pitiful sob and bolted for the kitchen, as if I’d just shattered her fragile world. Seeing this, Ryan instantly panicked. “Can’t you all just stop? I only let Michelle stay here temporarily to help her out! Emily, why do you have to act so jealous and petty? You’re the one I married, and we even have a child together! Do you really think I’d ever go back to her?” He paused, then added with a sneer, “If I couldn’t let her go, do you really think you’d be the one having my kid?” His words hit me like a slap in the face. My chest tightened, and I had to fight the sting of tears. “Fine,” I said, my voice trembling but firm. “Let her settle in as much as she wants. I’m leaving.” Ryan’s mom’s face twisted with fury. “You ungrateful brat! Michelle just moved in yesterday, and her son’s already calling me grandma. She even massaged my legs and shoulders to show her respect. And look at your daughter—what a mute little thing! She can’t even speak properly!” Her words nearly pushed me over the edge. My daughter was not mute. When she was little, Ryan’s mom had taken her out shopping and lost her. I searched for an entire day and night before finally finding her curled up, unconscious, in a filthy dumpster. The police later reviewed the security footage and discovered that my daughter had cleverly hidden there to escape a trafficker who had been trying to snatch her. The trauma left her unable to speak for months. Ryan’s mom had been wracked with guilt back then, spoiling my daughter endlessly to make up for what had happened. She even tore into the neighbor’s kid once for making a silly face at her. But now? Now she was willing to turn on us the moment some “new grandson” came along. I looked at Ryan and his mother, both radiating open disdain for me, and I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “Sure, sure,” I said. “Anyone who wants to play the doting grandparent or obedient child can go ahead. It’s got nothing to do with me.” Ryan, sensing that I was softening, tried a different approach. His voice dropped, sounding almost reasonable now. “Emily, think about this. If you take our daughter and go back to your parents’ house, people are going to start talking. They’ll say I’m abusive or cheating on you. Is that what you want? For your husband’s reputation to be ruined? Does that make you happy?” I stared at him, a cold smile curling at the edges of my lips. “Cheating? Ryan, weren’t you already doing that? Why pretend otherwise?” But I didn’t say it out loud. I knew his game too well. Every time I called Michelle what she really was—a mistress—Ryan and his mother would suddenly act like paragons of virtue, scolding me for being “petty” and “unreasonable.” Ryan sighed, pulling out his phone. A moment later, he transferred $10,000 into my account, his tone softening as he handed me his “apology.” “I shouldn’t have said those things earlier,” he said. “I got carried away. But isn’t this what you wanted? Some extra spending money? There, you’ve got it now. Be satisfied and don’t push your luck.” He frowned and added, “And tone down your jealousy, Emily. Next time, I won’t be so forgiving.” Ah, the classic Ryan move: insult me, then throw some money at me and expect everything to be fine. This was how he dealt with every argument—cut me down, then act like the bigger person once he’d tossed me a small bribe. For years, I let it slide. I told myself it wasn’t worth fighting over. But after we got married and had a child, his behavior only got worse, his disrespect more blatant. Now? Now I realized I should’ve stood my ground the first time he crossed the line. Because people like Ryan don’t change—they just keep testing how much you’re willing to tolerate. And I was finally done tolerating him.
Ignoring Ryan completely, I picked up my daughter and headed downstairs. But as I reached the door, Michelle appeared out of nowhere, blocking my path. She had somehow changed into a maid costume—yes, a literal maid costume—that hugged her curves in all the right places. She stood in front of me with a broom in hand, a smug look on her face as if she owned the house. The floor around her? Spotless. Naturally, Ryan’s mom was beyond impressed. She clapped her hands and beamed. “Now this is what a real woman looks like! Michelle is not only beautiful but hardworking too. Not like some people who don’t even know how to use a mop!” Michelle gave Ryan a shy, flirtatious smile and said softly, “Oh, I just have a little thing about cleanliness. I like to keep the house spotless, especially since I want the people I care about to feel happy and comfortable here.” I stared at her, completely unbothered, and shoved her to the side. “Move.” Because honestly, some people kneel so much, they forget how to stand up. Ryan’s mom’s face twisted with anger, her disapproval written all over her. “Emily! Look at Michelle—she’s been cleaning all morning, sweating her heart out to make your house look nice. You should be thanking her for helping you, not insulting her. Honestly, you’re a disgrace to women everywhere!” I snorted, unable to hold back a laugh. “Thank her? For what? She’s been living here rent-free, eating food she didn’t pay for, and now she wants a gold medal for sweeping the floor? Are you out of your mind, or do you just think I’ve lost mine?” The words were barely out of my mouth when Michelle’s big crocodile tears started to fall. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” she whimpered, her voice trembling as she looked at Ryan with watery eyes. “Ryan, maybe I should just leave. I don’t want to ruin your marriage or make your wife misunderstand me.” Ryan’s face immediately darkened, his anger bubbling to the surface. “That’s enough, Emily!” he roared. I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “Enough? Are you kidding me? I didn’t invite her here to clean or play house! If she wants to leave, she knows where the door is!” Suddenly, Ryan’s father stormed into the room, snatched the broom out of Michelle’s hands, and threw it to the ground. “Enough with the yelling!” he bellowed. The room fell into an awkward silence, but the tension was suffocating. Michelle, Ryan, and Ryan’s mom stood in a neat little line, their expressions united in their disdain for me, the outsider. Funny, wasn’t it? From the moment Michelle showed up, Ryan’s mom had been throwing snide remarks my way. Ryan had been shouting at me as if I was the problem. And now that I raised my voice for once, that’s when my father-in-law decided to step in and play referee. When we got married, I didn’t ask for a dowry. I even brought a car and a house as part of my dowry. Back then, Ryan’s parents promised me that if their son ever mistreated me, they’d make sure to keep him in line. They told me to treat their home as my own, to do whatever made me happy. But looking at them now, their loyalty was clear. This wasn’t my family—it was theirs. I might as well have been a stranger in their perfect little picture. I let out a bitter laugh and turned to leave, intending to drop my daughter off somewhere safe before dealing with this circus. But before I could take another step, Michelle suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, blocking my path once again. “Please, Emily,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Don’t blame Ryan or his mom. This is all my fault. If I wasn’t so desperate, I never would’ve come here. I’ll leave right now. I’ll take my son and sleep under a bridge if I have to. I don’t want to be the reason your family is falling apart.” Her words might have sounded self-sacrificing, but her body betrayed her. Instead of leaving, she stumbled to her feet and leaned into Ryan, practically collapsing into his arms. Ryan didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. “Emily,” he said, his voice dripping with disappointment, “I can’t believe you. Michelle and her son are only staying here temporarily. How can you, as a mother yourself, be so heartless? Do you really want to throw them out onto the streets? If you’re angry, take it out on me, not on a single mom who’s already been through so much!” Michelle, now nestled comfortably in Ryan’s embrace, tilted her head ever so slightly, just enough to give me a smug, triumphant smile. Ryan’s father chimed in, his tone exasperated. “All this arguing is ridiculous! It’s the first day in the new house, and you’re already making a scene. You’re going to scare away the good fortune!” I looked at the three of them—Michelle, Ryan, and my in-laws—all standing together like a united front. And I couldn’t help but wonder: if I hadn’t scratched off that $5 million lottery ticket, if I hadn’t brought this money into their lives, would they still have the nerve to act so smug, so self-satisfied? Would they still stand there, so confident and secure, as if the world owed them everything?
I gave my father-in-law my sweetest, most obedient smile and nodded. “You’re absolutely right, Dad. I don’t want to argue in front of the kids. But since there’s already a new ‘wife’ in the house, I think I’ll take my daughter and spend a few days with my family.” Michelle’s eyes lit up with satisfaction, though she quickly replaced her smug expression with a faux-concerned look. “Emily, you can’t leave! If you go, how will I ever manage to take care of Ryan all by myself?” Ryan frowned, clearly annoyed with me. “What kind of game are you playing now? Don’t you hear your kid’s stomach growling? Go make dinner instead of running off and trying to piss me off!” I rolled my eyes, picked up my daughter, and walked straight to the new car I had just bought. As I opened the door, Michelle turned to Ryan, feigning helplessness. “Ryan, what if she doesn’t come back? Emily loves you so much—how are you just letting her leave like this?” Ryan let out a cold laugh, brushing off her dramatics. “Don’t worry. She’ll come crawling back in less than three days. She’s got nowhere else to go, especially after cutting ties with her family for me.” I couldn’t help but scoff inwardly at how ridiculous he sounded. This was the same man who used to stay by my bedside for hours when I had the flu, worried sick about me. Now? He knew full well I might not even have a place to go, and yet he was standing here, willing to let me walk out the door just so he could keep his ex-girlfriend in the house. This wasn’t love. It was a test—a blatant, shameless test of how much humiliation I’d take before I finally broke. If I stayed, it wouldn’t stop here. Someday, they’d expect me to take care of the mistress, her child, and maybe even the baby she’d eventually have with Ryan. No thanks. When it comes to toxic men, the only solution is to run. I got my daughter settled in the passenger seat, grabbed my suitcase, and started loading it into the trunk. Michelle, of course, couldn’t resist one last jab as she stood in the doorway, pretending to care. “Emily, don’t take this too far. Just apologize to Ryan, and everything will go back to normal. Why embarrass yourself by running back to your parents?” Ryan stood next to her, arms crossed, looking smug. “Emily, think this through. If you grab that suitcase and leave now, you might not even be able to get into your parents’ house. You and the kid might end up wandering the streets. Don’t come crying to me when that happens.” I ignored both of them, not wasting a single word on their nonsense. Michelle, seeing my determined expression, smirked to herself and turned to go back inside, clearly pleased with how things were unfolding. I finished packing, climbed into the driver’s seat, and started the car. But just as I was about to pull out of the driveway, Ryan stepped in front of my car, slamming his hand on the window. His face was dark, his voice low and threatening. “Emily, if you leave now, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’ll regret this.” I let out a cold laugh, slammed the door shut, and drove off, finally leaving him in my rearview mirror. A second later, I heard his phone buzz. Ryan glanced down at the screen, and his expression changed instantly. His eyes widened in panic as he ran toward my car, pounding on the window. “Emily! Wait! Where’s the lottery money? Which account did you transfer it to?”
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