The Billionaire Married Me for Revenge

Sophia Harper stood by the window, the silk robe loosely wrapped around her body, her bare skin still tingling from Ethan's touch.

"Tonight is our last night as husband and wife."

From the bed, Ethan Carter sat motionless, his chiseled features hidden in the shadows. He didn't respond, didn't tell her she was wrong. Because she wasn't. Because he had no right to ask her to stay.

He had hurt her too much. Yet he loved her. And how cruel it was, to love someone and still have to let them go.

She turned to face him, her heart aching at the sight of him- of the man who had once been her entire world.

"You won't stop me?" she asked, her voice trembling despite the steel she tried to force into it.

Ethan met her gaze.

"Would it change anything if I did?"

Sophia's breath hitched, because no, it wouldn't.

She had made up her mind.

They had been doomed from the start.

Two people from two different worlds, bound by marriage, consumed by passion, only to end up here, breaking apart despite loving each other so desperately.

This wasn't how it was supposed to end.

But it had started long before tonight.

One year ago.

Sophia Harper, a sophomore literature student, walked quietly along the paved walkway, her worn-out backpack slung over her shoulder. Sweat dampened the back of her blouse after a long day at university.

She knew that beyond the iron gates, there would be no one waiting for her. No warm greetings, no concern. This was the house she had lived in since she was five, but it had never truly been a home.

Sophia pushed the gate open, stepping into the courtyard just as she caught sight of Emily Harper, her half-sister, lounging on the plush sofa in the grand living room. With her chestnut-red dyed hair and an elegant designer dress, Emily exuded wealth and confidence, her manicured fingers scrolling lazily through her phone.

At the sound of the door, Emily glanced up. Her gaze, sharp and condescending, flickered over Sophia with unmistakable disdain.

"Back already?" Her voice was laced with sarcasm. "I thought you'd decided to disappear for good."

Sophia pressed her lips together, ignoring the taunt as she made her way toward the staircase. But before she could take the first step, Emily's cold voice rang out again.

"Stop right there."

Sophia hesitated, exhaling slowly before turning back.

Emily crossed her legs, tilting her chin up with a smirk. "Have you forgotten your place?"

Sophia steadied herself, keeping her voice calm. "Emily, I have work later. I don't have time for this."

"Time?" Emily let out a soft, mocking laugh. "You think you have the right to talk about time?

Don't forget-your mother was nothing but a home-wrecking whore. And you? You're just the bastard child of a mistress."

The words hit like a slap, but they were nothing new. Sophia had heard them before, over and over, until they had become a cruel refrain in her life. Still, no matter how much she tried to numb herself, the pain always found a way in.

Her mother-the woman she had loved more than anything-had died when Sophia was just a child. And though she understood the mistakes her mother had made by falling for a married man, she had never believed she deserved to suffer for them.

But in this house, no one saw it that way.

"I know my mother made mistakes," Sophia said quietly, her voice measured, though her hands clenched at her sides. "But that wasn't my fault."

Emily scoffed, flicking her nails dismissively. "I don't care whose fault it was. What I do care about is making sure you pay for it."

She pointed toward the overflowing basket of designer clothes piled carelessly in the corner of the room. "Wash these. By hand. And don't even think about slacking off."

Sophia's gaze flickered to the expensive silk and delicate fabrics. She knew the high-tech washing machines in the house could handle the load effortlessly. This wasn't about the laundry. It was about humiliation.

"Emily," she tried again, her patience thinning. "I have work. You can ask the housekeeper to do it."

Emily arched a perfectly shaped brow, her smirk widening.

"Oh, darling, you still don't get it, do you? You're not a guest in this house. You're not family. You're nothing. And nothing doesn't get to say no."

"The housekeeper?" Emily scoffed, crossing her arms. "The only housekeeper here is you. If you don't do it, don't expect me to go easy on you. And pay attention-these are all designer clothes. If you ruin them, you'll be using your pathetic little paycheck to replace them. Understood?"

Sophia felt a lump form in her throat. Every word Emily spoke was like a blade cutting into her pride. But she refused to argue. She refused to let anger consume her.

"Fine, I'll do it." She bent down and picked up a pristine white dress from the basket.

The fabric was delicate, soft beneath her fingers, the kind that could be ruined with just a small mistake. Taking a deep breath, she carried the clothes to the back of the house, where a small basin and water tap awaited her.

By the time she was almost finished, night had fallen. Her hands were raw and red, aching from scrubbing against cold, soapy water.

The scent of detergent filled the air, but it couldn't wash away the weight pressing on her chest. Under the dim yellow light, her reflection in the water looked even paler, the exhaustion in her eyes unmistakable.

How much worse could this life possibly get?

She had stopped dreaming of a better future long ago. Every day was just another battle to survive, to hold onto whatever dignity she had left. But even that, Emily wouldn't allow her to keep.

A single tear slipped down her cheek. Sophia wiped it away quickly, even though no one was around to see it. She could still hear her mother's voice echoing in her mind:

"Sophia, you are my only hope. Live well. Never do anything you'll regret."

She clenched her fists, silently vowing to endure. No matter how they treated her, she wouldn't let them break her. But deep inside, her heart ached in a way no one could understand.

Suddenly, a sharp voice pierced through the stillness of the house.

"Sophia! Where the hell are you? Get out here and iron my dress! I have a party to attend!"

Sophia inhaled deeply, setting down the last of the clothes. Sweat trickled down her forehead, but she didn't wipe it away. Instead, she straightened her posture and stepped out of the laundry room.

Emily stood by the doorway, an elegant brown evening gown in her hands, embroidered with delicate gold stitching. She shoved it into Sophia's arms with an impatient huff.

"Iron this. And do it fast."

Sophia hesitated for a moment, glancing at the dress.

Emily raised an eyebrow. "What? Do you need me to repeat myself? Or are you just too stupid to understand?"

"I'll do it," Sophia replied, her voice quiet but undeniably tired.

As she turned toward the kitchen to retrieve the iron, her gaze accidentally met her father's-Robert Harper-sitting on the living room sofa.

He didn't say a word. Didn't look up from his newspaper. He merely sat there, deliberately avoiding her eyes, pretending she didn't exist.

The man who should have been her protector. The man who had never once defended her against Emily's cruelty.

She understood why. She was his mistake, his shame. The living proof of an affair that had shattered the perfect family he once had.

She understood.

But that didn't make it hurt any less.

Lowering her gaze, she forced herself to move. She wouldn't let them see how much it hurt.

The iron heated up slowly, releasing wisps of steam into the air. Sophia ran her hands over the fabric, smoothing out the creases with practiced precision. She focused, determined to finish the task without a single flaw.

The last thing she needed was another reason for Emily to humiliate her.

But exhaustion was a dangerous thing.

The iron pressed against the delicate fabric for too long.

A small burn mark appeared.

"No... no, no, no!" Her hands trembled as she lifted the dress, inspecting the damage. It was barely noticeable: a tiny flaw against the luxurious fabric. But she knew Emily.

She would notice. And she would never let this go.

The door burst open, and Emily stormed in, her face twisted with irritation.

"What the hell is taking you so long? I-" She stopped mid-sentence when her eyes landed on the dress in Sophia's trembling hands.