Chapter 1

My mother-in-law coddled her son to an absurd degree. Not only did she constantly compete with me for his affection, but she also treated my husband like a replacement for her late spouse.

Whenever there was thunder, my husband had to stay by her side. Every day after work, he had to bring her a delicate little pastry.

If he didn't, she’d pout and whine, "Waaah, but I want it~"

I fought with Carter over this countless times, but he always acted like it was completely normal.

"She’s my biological mother! My dad died when I was little, and she sacrificed everything to raise me alone. I’m just being a good son!"

"Besides, my mom is your mom now too. You should be doing everything you can to make her happy!"

I was furious, determined to see just how far they could push it.

Until the day I saw her walking around the house in nothing but skimpy lingerie right in front of him.

I laughed bitterly. Oh, so that’s how they wanted to play it?

Why the hell did he even get married? Those two should just stay locked together for life!

On our wedding night, I was wearing a silk slip dress, getting ready to share a glass of wine with Carter.

Suddenly, an urgent knocking rattled our bedroom door, followed by a tearful, delicate whimper.

"Carter, baby... there's thunder outside. Mommy's scared."

Carter’s hand shook, almost spilling his wine.

Almost by reflex, he pushed me aside and bolted to the door.

Standing outside was my mother-in-law, Eleanor. She wore a sheer, semi-transparent lace nightgown, clutching a pillow with tears brimming in her eyes, looking utterly helpless.

Even in her fifties, she maintained herself so well she could pass for an attractive woman in her early thirties.

Carter’s eyes flooded with heartbreak. He pulled her into his arms.

"Mom, don't be scared. Your son is right here."

Eleanor shrank against his chest, casting a smug, provocative glance at me. Her voice remained sweet and frail:

"Did I interrupt you two? Maybe I should just go back to my room and shiver alone under the covers..."

Carter panicked instantly.

"What are you saying? You're my mother. No one in this world is more important than you."

I watched the scene coldly, my knuckles turning white as I gripped my wineglass.

"Since she's so terrified of a little thunder, why don't you sleep with her, Carter?"

I set down the glass and turned toward the guest room.

Carter grabbed my arm, his brow furrowed in irritation.

"Chloe, are you seriously jealous over this? She’s an elder! Why are you being so immature?"

Eleanor chimed in, though her hand was busy clutching Carter’s collar, tracing small circles on his chest.

"Chloe, please don't be mad. I just wanted Carter to comfort me... just like when he was a little boy."

Just like when he was a little boy?

Watching her fingers dance over his chest, a wave of nausea washed over me.

"Fine. I’ll leave the room to you two."

I yanked my arm from Carter's grip, marched straight into the guest room, and locked the door behind me.

From outside came Carter’s muffled grumble: "Mom, look at her. What a temper."

Eleanor’s soothing voice drifted through: "It's okay, sweetheart. Chloe grew up as a pampered princess. It's only natural she's a bit spoiled. Mommy doesn't blame her. I'll just sleep right here beside you tonight to keep you safe."

Through the wooden door, I heard every single word.

That night, listening to the TV chatter and the flirty giggles drifting from our master bedroom, my heart turned to ice.

Turns out, I hadn't married a man. I had become the third wheel in a twisted mother-son roleplay.

The next morning, noise in the living room woke me up.

Stepping out, I found Carter sitting at the dining table, with Eleanor perched squarely on his lap.

Yes. Sitting directly on his lap.

She was peeling a grape, feeding it straight to his mouth: "Open wide, Carter. Say ahhh~"

Carter savored it with pure delight, casually wrapping his arm around her waist.

When they saw me emerge, neither showed the slightest hint of shame.

Instead, Eleanor snuggled deeper into Carter’s embrace, purring playfully:

"Oh, Chloe, you’re up! Come have breakfast. Mommy made Carter his favorite breakfast with love."

Two breakfasts sat on the table.

One was an exquisite gourmet bacon sandwich with a tall glass of fresh milk, placed right in front of Carter.

The other was a bowl of leftover bland oatmeal and limp pickles, shoved in front of my seat.

I laughed out of sheer disbelief. Pulling out a chair, I sat down, reached straight across the table, and grabbed Carter’s sandwich.

Carter scowled. "Chloe, that's mine."

I took a huge bite, chewing slowly.

"I'm your wife. What's wrong with sharing a bite? Aren't you always preaching about showing affection?"

Eleanor’s face fell, her eyes welling with instant tears.

"Chloe, that’s Carter’s favorite bacon sandwich. How could you just snatch it from him? If you wanted some, I could have made you one. Why must you be so overbearing?"

Carter couldn't bear to see his precious mother wronged. He slammed his hand against the table.

"Chloe! Apologize to Mom right now! It’s just a sandwich! Is this really necessary?"

I swallowed the last bite and pulled a napkin to dab my lips.

"It isn't. So why are you screaming at me over a sandwich?"

"And Eleanor, Carter is twenty-six, not six. Has he even been weaned yet? Why are you sitting on his lap?"

"Anyone watching would think you're an escort at an upscale club servicing her sugar daddy."

The room fell dead silent.

Eleanor’s face shifted through shades of red, green, and white. Then she covered her face and wailed:

"Carter! Did you hear what she called me?! She’s humiliating me! I can’t live like this anymore!"

Carter shot up, raising his hand to strike me.

I tilted my chin up, glaring at him with icy disdain.

"Lay a finger on me and see what happens. I paid the down payment on this house. My name is the only one on the deed. If you dare touch me, you get the hell out of here right now!"

Carter’s hand froze in midair, his face turning the color of bruised eggplant.

Eleanor instantly stopped crying, staring at me in sheer shock, as if seeing who I really was for the very first time.