Chapter 3

Roger slapped the table, his voice pitched high with urgency.

"That's a Sanchez company! You spending Sawyer money on us is only right and proper, isn't it?"

"Exactly, Zoey. You've worn out every last bit of this family's patience. And when the day comes, you'll be the one begging us to forgive you."

Antonia chimed in right behind him.

Funny. They had the target backward.

When that day came, they'd be the ones on their knees begging me.

I couldn't help a small scoff. I picked a shard off the floor and pressed it into Val's hand. "This vase cost eight million. Don't forget to pay for it."

Then, without sparing any of them another glance, I went upstairs to rest.

Five o'clock the next morning, someone started pounding on my bedroom door and wouldn't stop.

Everyone in this house knew I woke up in a foul mood, so they always let me sleep until I woke on my own.

I yanked the door open, half angry already, and my son grabbed my hand and started pulling me out.

"Mommy."

I looked at the child who was finally willing to come close to me, a rush of surprised warmth going through me, and let him lead me along.

The next second, I felt like I'd been dropped into ice.

"Teacher Fox wants to have a piano contest with you. If you lose, you have to turn everyone's cards back on."

By the time I reached the ground floor, the rest of them were already sitting in the living room.

And Freya was already seated on the piano bench.

She pressed a fond kiss to my son's cheek and turned to me, provocation in her eyes.

"Ma'am, I brought some breakfast I made myself."

"But I hear you cut off everyone's cards. As Mr. Sanchez's wife, how could you do such a thing?"

I glanced at the bowl of oatmeal in each of their hands, then brought my gaze back to her radiant smile, and frowned.

"Since you're so eager to hand money over, why not just wire your entire monthly salary straight into Val's father's account?"

"What kind of talk is that! Look at Freya. That's what a wife is supposed to be!"

"Not like you, out spending money everywhere every single day, a new car every morning!"

Roger dropped his bowl and glared at me, breathing hard.

Freya carried a bowl of oatmeal over to me, scooped up a spoonful, and lifted it toward my mouth.

"Ma'am, if you don't know how, I can come every day from now on and do it. I can take good care of Mr. Sanchez."

I raised my hand and knocked the spoon aside, looking down at her coldly.

"Can't wait to move in already?"

"If you want to be the Sanchez family's maid, just say so. I'll have Val put you on the payroll."

Antonia stepped forward, steadied Freya, and jabbed a finger at my face.

"Zoey Sawyer, show me one wife who's like you, never once setting foot in the kitchen, and expecting her husband to wait on her instead!"

"If my son hadn't liked you back then, I'd never have wanted a daughter-in-law as useless as you."

I raised a hand and had the servants carry the piano away, then wiped my hands with a handkerchief. "You don't want me. You'd rather Freya be your daughter-in-law? Fine. Then let her make up the hundreds of millions you people have spent all these years. I'm bringing someone in right now to settle the accounts."

"You've got some nerve, spending Sawyer money and then turning around to put me on trial."

A flicker of panic crossed Antonia's eyes. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

My son slammed his weight against my side and glared at me with hatred.

"Mommy! Why did you take away the piano, why did you cut off the cards, why can't you learn to be gentle like Teacher Fox!"

"She picks me up from school every day and makes me little cakes, and she's prettier than you too!"

I stumbled back a few steps, my hands shaking uncontrollably, anger and helplessness rising up from somewhere deep inside me.

I stared at him for a moment before I spoke, slowly.

"All right. Then let her be your mother."

"I'm signing divorce papers with your father right now."

For a moment the living room went silent.

My son froze. His mouth opened, as if he hadn't expected me to say it.

The next instant, Val pulled me tight against him.

He steered me toward the dining room. "Zoey, he's just a kid joking around. Your stomach's bad, eat something first."

But before I could even sit down, Freya's thin, delicate voice reached my ears.

"Mr. Sanchez, I came this time to make amends to your wife."

"It's my own fault for being so careless and wrecking three of her cars."