"The property management fee this month comes to 1,500 dollars. Please make the payment whenever you're free."

I notice my husband's phone screen lighting up on the dining table. After glancing at it, I grabbed it immediately.

"The management must have gotten it wrong. Our apartment's fee is 28 dollars per month."

That's when Liam Moore shoots up to his feet and reaches out to snatch his phone back.

"Yeah, they must have gotten it wrong. I'll text the person in charge and explain everything to him."

But I've already tapped into the link, which shows me the details of the property that's being charged.

It's Cloudridge Villa, and the property deed owner is… Matilda Shaw.

The young housekeeper who's currently cooking in the kitchen is also Matilda Shaw.

My mind buzzes loudly instantly.

While the three of us have to make do with a tiny, rundown replacement housing that's provided by the government, Liam, my own husband, has actually bought a villa for Matilda.

Liam Moore snatched the phone back and locked the screen in one swift motion.

I watched his every move, my voice turning cold as I questioned, "Cloudridge Villa is under Matilda's name, and yet the Homeowners Association sent the bills to you. So, which one are you planning to explain first?"

He set the phone face down on the table, took a sip of water, and only then spoke.

"A relative of mine wanted to qualify for a first-time homebuyer program. It was tied to residency, so he used Matilda's ID. He went overseas recently and asked me to handle things while he was gone."

"Which relative?" I demanded.

"You wouldn't know him. An uncle from back home."

Liam was lying. In ten years of marriage, I had met every member of his family. There was no such uncle.

I was about to press further when helplessness flickered across his face.

"You don't seriously think I bought Matilda a villa, do you?" he asked, his face giving nothing away. "You know what I make. If I had that kind of money, we'd have moved downtown a long time ago."

As he spoke, he served a bowl of soup to our son, Ezra Moore.

Just then, the range hood went silent, and Matilda Shaw came out carrying a plate of honey-glazed ribs.

"Beatrice, everything's ready. Take your time eating. I need to head home and take care of my daughter. Just leave the dishes in the kitchen. I'll come by tomorrow morning to clean up."

Matilda had no idea what had just happened. She simply removed her apron, changed her shoes, and left.

All the while, she never exchanged a glance with Liam. The only exception was when she stepped around me and placed the plate of ribs directly in front of him. It was her signature dish.

Back then, after interviewing more than a dozen household helpers, she was the only one who could make Liam's favorite honey-glazed ribs and also cook the crispy potato galette that Ezra and I loved.

Matilda said she grew up in a rural area and hadn't had much formal education. She was four years younger than me and a single mother.

I felt sorry for her. Besides, she charged only half the usual market rate, so I hired her without hesitation.

Over the years, I treated her like a little sister. Whenever I had anything extra, I thought of her first, and I always made sure her daughter got a share of whatever Ezra had.

And now, her name was on the deed to a 3,200-square-foot villa. Meanwhile, the three of us—her employers—were living in a cramped, old apartment.

"Darling, eat up before it gets cold," Liam said, biting into a rib and motioning toward the table.

I glanced around the table. Every dish was something he liked. The crispy potato galette that Ezra and I loved hadn't appeared in over a year.

The meal was utterly tasteless.

…

Later that night, while I helped Ezra with his homework, Liam went to take a shower. I quietly picked up his tablet and synced his text messages and expense records.

The most recent entry was a 1,500 dollars payment to the HOA. The entries before that were random purchases, mostly cosmetics and toys.

But I had never seen any of it. Liam had always handed his entire salary over to me, so how could there still be more than 100 thousand dollars sitting in his account?

As I scrolled up, I saw a 20 thousand dollars transfer from just a few days ago. He had been sending the same amount every month for the past nine years.

The recipient was Matilda.

In an instant, my breath caught. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

Clenching my teeth, I opened his income records.

Ezra was born in our second year of marriage. At the time, Liam told me his company was downsizing, and his salary had dropped to five thousand dollars a month.

He made me pinch every penny. I wasn't allowed to buy new clothes, and Ezra could only have digital versions of picture books. Even buying an extra pound of pork was enough to earn a lecture.

In the end, I couldn't take it anymore and decided to find a job. But if I worked, someone had to take care of Ezra.

Liam's parents didn't like city life. Yet, when my parents wanted to help, he insisted the house was too small for so many people.

Later, he suggested hiring a household helper, but I knew we couldn't afford one. After all, we were already stretched too thin.

At the time, Liam had shrugged and said I shouldn't work. Instead, I should just stay home as a full-time mom.

So, I gritted my teeth and contacted Matilda. Since the pay was low, all she had to do was care for Ezra and make lunch and dinner. Breakfast and all the housework were still on me.

Out of my six-thousand-dollar salary, four thousand went to Matilda, while the remaining two thousand dollars went toward Ezra's schooling.

On the other hand, Liam's five thousand dollars covered all the other household expenses. We weren't rich, but we managed.

Then, I saw it. The truth was, he earned 50 thousand dollars a month, yet he gave me only five thousand dollars.

For a split second, I was dazed.

Right then, a notification popped up on the screen. Liam had just transferred 15 thousand dollars to his mother, Shirley Davis. The same amount had been wired every month for nine years.

So, every month, he gave Shirley 15 thousand dollars, Matilda 20 thousand dollars, and kept 10 thousand dollars for himself. But I was left with just five thousand dollars to cover the three of us.

Had Ezra and I been placed last in this family?

I bit my lip. Just as I was about to close the account and look for something else, I noticed a few new messages.

Liam wrote, "Mom, same as always. Save the money and buy jewelry for Matilda and Lexi for Christmas."

My hands trembled, and the tablet slipped onto the bed.

A beat later, I glanced toward the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the air. Through the glass door, I saw Liam hunched over his phone.

In that moment, the last flicker of hope inside me died, and I clutched the hem of my shirt. It seemed like I had no choice but to see the villa for myself.

…

The next day, Liam left for work as usual at 6:00 am.

Once he was gone, I dropped Ezra off with a friend and headed to Cloudridge Villa alone.

The villa looked like something out of a fairy tale, with a yard on the ground floor, a terrace on the second, and a sunroom on the third. It even came with a basement.

It was a house I had never dared to imagine owning.

Soon, the door opened, and Matilda appeared, holding the hand of a little girl in a private school uniform. She herself was impeccably dressed.

Liam held the girl's other hand. Then, she waved at the people behind her. "Bye, Grandma and Grandpa!"

I watched as my in-laws leaned in, smiling warmly as they piled snacks into the girl's arms.

Without warning, a lump formed in my throat. Ezra was nine this year, yet he had only seen his paternal grandparents twice.

They always claimed farm work kept them busy and refused to come to the city to help with Ezra. Worse, they didn't want us visiting them.

I worked myself to the bone every day and had complained to Liam more than once. However, he always brushed me off with the same excuse.

"My relationship with my parents isn't good. If they came, we'd just end up fighting."

Now, those same parents, who supposedly didn't get along with him, were living in a villa. In fact, they were spoiling someone else's child.

Every one of them had been lying to me.

A short distance away, Liam gently buckled the girl's seatbelt before starting the engine.

I, on the other hand, stood rooted to the spot.

Moments later, he slammed on the brakes. His eyes widened with shock as they met mine. "B-Beatrice? What are you doing here?"

Matilda and my in-laws froze as they stared at Liam in stunned silence.

In the next second, he jumped out of the car and ran toward me, anxiety written all over his face.

"So, this is what you meant when you said you were too busy at work to take Ezra to school?" I asked.

He stammered, "N-No… Let me explain. Matilda can't handle everything on her own, so she asked me to help…"

"Aren't your parents here? How could she possibly be overwhelmed with them around?" I shot back.

Liam was left speechless.

Suddenly, the little girl in the passenger seat shouted, "Daddy! I'm going to be late for school!"

All at once, everything fell silent.

Matilda quickly covered the girl's mouth, while my in-laws stomped their feet in frustration. Liam's face drained of color.

I clenched my fists, my palms slick with sweat.

"Liam, you said you have to leave at 6:00 am and wouldn't finish work until 8:00 pm," I began. "That's why picking up and dropping off Ezra always falls on me, even though I work too.

"I sympathized, thinking you were exhausted. Turns out, your exhaustion came from giving all your time to someone else."

He shook his head desperately. "No, you're mistaken."

"You're right. I was mistaken. Your heart was never with us. It has always been with your other wife and her child."

My voice grew colder as I continued, "I was wrong all along. Ezra and I are the outsiders here."

Liam's body went rigid, and the color drained from his face as he said, "You're my wife. That child isn't—"

"You're really going to say she isn't your daughter?" I cut him off. "You had the nerve to lie to me, but not enough sense to hide the birth certificate?"

Having said that, I raised my phone and showed him the photo.

Liam's breathing faltered at once. On the birth certificate, the newborn was listed as Alexis Moore, with Matilda as the mother and Liam as the father.

The night before, I had gone through his phone and tablet while he slept.

When I saw the birth certificate, I bit down so hard on my lip that it split. It was the only thing that stopped me from grabbing a knife and killing him.

Behind me, Matilda heard the commotion, told my in-laws to take Alexis inside, then walked over. She lowered her head, her voice barely audible as she said, "Beatrice… please don't be angry with him."

Liam immediately stepped in front of her, as if afraid I might hurt her. "Go back inside. I'll explain everything."

"No. I can't let you face this alone," Matilda replied.

I watched quietly as they looked out for each other. Suddenly, I felt utterly ridiculous.

Before last night's HOA fee notice, I believed we were a happy family of three. And now, the roles were reversed. I was standing outside, watching another couple face everything together.

The pain slowly gave way to numbness until nothing but rage remained.

"Go back where? To that villa of yours? The one with 1,500 dollars a month in HOA fees?" I pressed.

Then, I addressed Matilda, "You live in a place like this, yet you still come over to clean our tiny apartment. You even had to pretend to respect me. I'm sure you cursed me plenty behind my back."

Her head dipped even lower. "I didn't…"

"Beatrice, stop being sarcastic," Liam interrupted with a frown. "If you have something to say, say it to me. Let's go home first. I'll explain everything."

Anger surged through me. Without hesitation, I raised my hand and slapped him.

"Which home? You spent 45 thousand dollars of your salary here. This is your real home!" I spat.

Liam stood there, stunned by the blow.

Meanwhile, Matilda gasped and touched his cheek, her eyes brimming with concern.

A moment later, Liam's eyes went wide as he stared at me. "You know all about it… Look, it's not what you think. I've let Matilda down. That money was supposed to make up for it."

"And what about me? Does that make it right?"

Liam swallowed hard, unable to speak.

"When exactly did you two get together?" I demanded, my chest heaving.

Matilda twisted her fingers and looked at Liam. He seemed to throw caution to the wind and answered, "Before we got married, a relative back home set us up on a blind date…"

"So, you married me while seeing her?"

Liam replied, "No. Matilda and I ended things when we got married. It was later… After she came to the city for work…"

He was too ashamed to finish the sentence.

If I counted back ten months from Alexis' birth, I would have been in my first trimester. Back then, my morning sickness had been so severe that I spent every day bent over the toilet, vomiting nonstop.

But Liam had claimed he was busy with work and that the company had sent him on a six-month business trip. By the time he came back, I was about to give birth.

As it turned out, it hadn't been a business trip. He had found me repulsive and ran off to rekindle things with the woman he had once been set up with.

We had been married for ten years, yet my husband had been cheating on me for nine of them.

Liam fell silent, and Matilda finally gathered the courage to speak. "Beatrice, please don't blame him. I was the one who insisted on having the baby. He only helped me because he felt sorry for me."

That made it even more absurd. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to laugh.

"What exactly is pitiful about you?" I questioned. "My husband makes 50 thousand dollars a month, but he gives me five thousand dollars and 20 thousand dollars to you.

"Another 15 thousand dollars goes to buying jewelry for you and your daughter. He even sets aside ten thousand dollars to spend on your makeup and her toys."

I went on, "On top of that, he bought you a villa, sent your daughter to a private school that costs 100 thousand dollars a year, and moved his parents in to help you raise her.

"And me? I raised my child alone. I scraped by on five thousand dollars to support a family of three. Even most of my salary went to you. I kept just enough to send my son to public school.

"And yet, I was stupid enough to invite the mistress into my home as a household helper. Now, you're telling me you're the one who's pitiful?

"Matilda, who do you really think deserves pity? You, or me?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she stepped forward and grabbed my wrist. "I'm sorry, Beatrice… This is all my fault."

I felt sickened and tried to pull away. But Matilda stumbled backward, nearly falling.

Seeing that, Liam panicked. He rushed forward and caught her.

"Watch yourself!" he snapped, anger flashing in his eyes. "Matilda is pregnant!"