Lies Against Her

Lexi

"Ouch!' Emily winced, checking her elbow with a squinting expression.

Ryan's action halted when he saw Emily on the floor, and my eyes dilated as if I were angry, even though I was only stunned by her act. He darted his gaze over Emily and then at me. With the glints in his eyes, I was convinced that he had analyzed the situation and he thought I was at fault. Scratch that. He was going to put the blame on me anyway.

"What happened here? Why is Emily on the floor?" He threw a question at me without sparing me a glance.

Emily swayed her gaze over me and forced out false tears out of her eyes. "You can just tell me that you don't want to cook today, Lexi. Why did you have to push me?" She cried out in a croaky voice.

"What!" My brows snapped as I watched the drama unfold in my presence. Emily would become a superstar if she channeled her hateful energy on acting. I almost believed her tears too.

"Brother, I only came to beg her to prepare breakfast this morning since Auntie Cynthia isn't feeling too well, and she pushed me because of that. You can politely refuse to cook without resorting to violence. You've already spent three years in the Middleton family, and I think that's enough years to stop acting razz like the paupers... Well, I doubt that habit leaves the owner no matter what." She mumbled in a shaky voice, standing up slowly.

"It's enough, Emily. Wait for me downstairs. I will drive you to the hospital," Ryan told her without looking at her. His gaze was fixed on me. I gulped uncomfortably as we stared at each other. I knew it wouldn't end well.

"Okay, brother," Emily spurted out with a sinister smirk on the corner of her lips and walked out of the room, but not without giving me a look of "You are a dead rat."

The atmosphere of the room mixed with the cold and eerie aura emanating from Ryan and sent tons of fears down my spine. His eyes darkened with hatred and irritation, and he started walking toward me. As Ryan walked closer to me, I took instinctive steps backward. My heart thumped harder and louder; it almost jumped out of its space.

"Why did you do that?" He asked in a cold voice, causing my body to tremble in trepidation.

"I... She... She's lying, Ryan. I didn't push her. She was the one who slapped me," I stuttered, moving backward until my back reached the wall.

"Emily slapped you...?" He questioned with a part of his brows raised, and I nodded like a lizard, thinking he would be mad at Emily, but I was astonished when he chuckled briefly. "I guess you've moved from a desperate leech to a professional liar. How could....," He halted and tilted his head to the side when the harsh stench of alcohol wafted into his nose. With a scrunched nose, he turned and swayed his eyes over the bedroom. He snorted afterward, "You are not just a leech and professional liar. You are also a drunkard. Wow!!!" He sounded disappointed, and that hurt me. This wasn't what I wanted.

I was still trying to make him love him; I shouldn't let him have more misconceptions about me.

"It's not what you think, Ryan. I was forced to drink myself to stupor last night because you didn't come home," I explained, hoping that he would believe me. I was scared that this might increase his anger and hatred for me, which might cause him to cast me farther away.

"At least, you will not claim that I'm not treating you right. Tell me what maid would be able to afford expensive drinks like the ones you had last night. That's one of the privileges you have in my house. So enjoy it to the fullest," he told me. Tears rushed to my lids, and my heart sank immediately. It was still the same. He saw me as a maid the same way Emily saw me as one. I have done everything I could just to make him see me as his wife, but it didn't work. He kept maltreating me.

With my head slightly leaned backward, I blinked back the tears and muttered, "Yesterday was Isabelle's second-year birthday."

He scrutinized the whole room, tucked his hands in his pockets, and returned his gaze to him. "I know. I have asked Jasmine to prepare a birthday gift. She will deliver it herself today," he responded emotionlessly.

My brows arched and my mouth widened. "What!" Jasmine was his girlfriend, or should I call her main wife, because Ryan spent most of his days and nights in her apartment without thinking about me. Many times he had blamed me for almost breaking his relationship with Jasmine, and he didn't cease to remind me of how I was just an option provided by his grandmother, and he will never have anything to do with me.

Isabelle came into existence on the day he was drunk and horny, and that was the first and last day we shared touches. He called me a whore the next day and accused me of raping him when he was the one who proposed the sex. And when I tried to refuse, knowing that I would be blamed for it the next day, he reminded me that I was his wife and he could do whatever he wants with me.

I scoffed, "Jasmine will bring the gift? She's your concubine for goodness sake," I affirmed, and my face was met with a smack. His eyes darkened, and balls of fire rolled freely in them.

"Don't you call Jasmine that useless name. You cannot disrespect the love of my life." He barked. A drop of tears fell from my eyes as the pain coursed through my veins.

"You slapped me, Ryan!" I mumbled in a croaky voice, touching the place he slapped.

"Yes... And I will not hesitate to slap you again if you refuse to know your place. So bold of you to call Jasmine a concubine. Who do you think you are? Don't tell me that you see yourself as a wife in this household." He paused and giggled. With his hands on my chin, he lifted my head up with it and propelled me to stare straight into his eyes. "Listen, Lexi. You are nothing in this house. You are just a cleaner who became a maid. The earlier you know your status, the better for you." He spat in my face and jerked my chin away.

A soft groan escaped my mouth as tears flowed freely down my face.

"Ryan, I accept that you do not have any respect for me as your wife. But does the same thing apply to your own child? Why should Jasmine bring a gift for your daughter? Why does she have to bring a gift? You are Isabelle's father, and I expect you to respect your child." I spurted out. I couldn't take it anymore. I was ready to take all the swords hurled at me, but what I wouldn't accept was the disrespect he tried to taint my daughter with.

"What is so wrong with Jasmine bringing a gift for Isabelle? Isabelle is my daughter, and Jasmine is my wife. Isabelle is her stepdaughter." He blurted out, and I growled at him almost immediately.

"I will not watch and let you call Jasmine my daughter's stepmother. What are you even saying, Lexi? How can you call your concubine my daughter's stepmother in my presence? Is that how much you have no regard for your family?"

"I just warned you, Lexi. Jasmine is not a concubine," he shouted.

Defensively, I shouted back, "What else can we use to categorize her if she isn't a concubine? She isn't your wife, Ryan. I am your wife. Your legally wedded wife," I fired, raising my ring to his face. "I am the one you married and put a ring on one of her fingers. No matter what you do, Jasmine can never be regarded as a wife. She's just a concubine."

"Lexi!!!" Ryan growled, his veins puking out of his skin as anger dominated him. His eyes were bloodshot as fire burned in them.

"Ryan!!!" I barked back, standing head on with him fearlessly. I knew that I wouldn't be able to fight back if he struck my face with his hands, but I was too exasperated to control myself.

He stared deeply into my eyes for seconds and scoffed, retracting his gaze. "You really don't know your place. Get Isabelle ready; we will be going on a family date to celebrate her birthday. Do your best to wash all the poor smell from your body," he instructed and dashed out of the bedroom, slamming the door aggressively.

The brazen facade I was putting on broke the moment he left and my legs weakened, which made me squat and hug my knees tightly. "You are so pathetic, Lexi!" I mumbled as I fought the tears welling up in my eyelids back.