Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The rain poured mercilessly as Mona collapsed onto her knees in the empty street. Her body shook with violent sobs that tore through her chest like knives. The ruined dress clung to her trembling frame, wine and rain mixing together.

"Why?" she whispered into the darkness. "Why wasn't I ever good enough?"

Her voice broke, dissolving into another wave of tears. She'd lost her shoes somewhere between being dragged out of the house and thrown onto the driveway. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the gaping hole in her chest.

*Five years earlier*

"Stand up straight!" Emily's sharp voice echoed in her memory. "God, do you even know how to walk properly? What did Samuel see in you?"

It was Mona's first dinner with the Caldwells after the wedding. Emily had insisted on "teaching" her proper etiquette, though each lesson felt more like torture.

"I'm sorry," Mona had whispered then, trying to balance the book Emily had placed on her head. "I'll try harder."

"Try harder?" Emily's laugh had been cold. "That's all you ever say."

*Present-day*

Mona curled into herself on the wet pavement, rocking back and forth. She'd tried so hard. Every day for five years, she'd woken up thinking, "Maybe today will be different. Maybe today they'll accept me."

But they never had.

She remembered the first Christmas at the Caldwell mansion, how she'd spent weeks picking out the perfect gift for Emily - a rare first edition of her favorite book. She'd saved for months from her secret waitressing job, the one she'd taken because Emily had cut off her access to the family accounts.

"What's this?" Emily had sneered. "Another pathetic attempt to buy your way into our family?"

The book had ended up in the fireplace. Emily claimed it was an accident, but Mona had seen her smirk as the pages curled and burned.

Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating her broken form on the street. A car rushed past, spraying dirty water across her already soaked body. She didn't even try to move.

"Samuel," she whimpered, his name like poison on her tongue. "Why didn't you ever defend me?"

But she knew why. Because she'd never been enough. Never been pretty enough, sophisticated enough, worthy enough of the great Caldwell name.

"You know," Sarah, Samuel's sister, would say loudly at family gatherings, "when Samuel told us he was getting married, we expected someone... well, someone better."

Another sob ripped through Mona as she remembered how Samuel would just stand there, pretending not to hear as his family tore his wife apart. Had he ever loved her? Or had she just been convenient until someone better came along?

She remembered the day Emily had "accidentally" spilled bleach on her wedding dress. "Oh dear," she'd said, her eyes gleaming. "What a shame. But really, it was such a cheap dress anyway."

The dress had been everything to Mona, simple but elegant. She'd worked double shifts at three different diners to afford it. Now, like everything else in her life, it was ruined.

"Please," she sobbed into the night, not sure who she was begging. "Please..."

But no one answered. No one ever had.

Emily's birthday parties flashed through her mind, year after year of being relegated to the corner, forced to watch as the family celebrated without her.

"Don't touch anything," Emily would snap. "Your common taste will ruin everything."

And then there was Lora. Beautiful, perfect Lora. The woman Samuel really wanted.

"Samuel loves me now," Lora's words echoed. "He never loved you. We've been together for months."

A sound escaped Mona's throat, something between a scream and a sob. She pressed her forehead against the cold pavement. Everything she'd believed in, it had all been for nothing.

Where could she go? Emily had made sure she had no friends left. Even her job applications had mysteriously been rejected. "The Caldwell name means something in this town," Emily had reminded her constantly.

Now here she was, no money, no phone, no clothes except the ruined dress she wore. Five years of marriage ended with her being thrown out like garbage.

Mona sat huddled in a bus shelter, arms wrapped around herself. The rain continued to pour, but she barely noticed. Her mind was lost in memories she'd tried so hard to forget.

Three hundred million dollars and a huge company. That's what she'd inherited when her parents died. But she'd signed it all away to Samuel, believing his promises of love and trust.

"It's just a formality," he'd said, sliding the papers across the table. "We're going to be partners in everything."

A bitter laugh escaped her throat. She'd been such a fool.

The memory shifted to her first week in the Caldwell mansion. Emily had summoned her to the kitchen.

"Since you're from such... common stock," Emily had said, "you might as well make yourself useful. The maids need help with the cleaning."

Day after day, while Samuel was at work, Emily would find new tasks for her. Scrubbing floors, washing windows, polishing silver - endless hours of backbreaking work that was never good enough.

"You missed a spot," Emily would say, deliberately dropping crumbs where Mona had just cleaned. "Start over."

The memory made Mona's hands ache. She looked down at them now, once soft and manicured, they were rough and scarred from years of harsh chemicals. Emily had forbidden her from wearing gloves. "They're too expensive to waste on you."

Her mind drifted to the day she'd discovered what had really happened to her inheritance. She'd been cleaning Emily's study when she'd found the papers.

Samuel hadn't just taken control of her money. He'd transferred all of it to his personal accounts the day after their wedding.

When she'd confronted him, his response had been casual. "You didn't think we'd let someone like you control that kind of money, did you?"

Emily had laughed when she'd found out about the confrontation.

"Oh, you poor, naive thing," she'd said. "Did you really think Samuel married you for love? We needed that money to cover some... unfortunate investment losses. You were just convenient."

More memories flooded in. Emily ordering her to serve drinks at family gatherings, treating her like hired help. The endless "etiquette lessons" that were really just excuses to criticize and belittle her.

"Stand up straight," Emily would snap. "God, you even slouch like a servant. What would your parents think if they could see you now?"

Parents. Mona's chest tightened at the thought. What would they think? Their only daughter, reduced to this.

The rain seemed to be falling harder now, creating a curtain of water that isolated her from the world. Or maybe she'd always been isolated. Emily had made sure of that.

Lightning flashed again. In its brief illumination, Mona caught another glimpse of herself in the glass. Mascara streaked down her cheeks, hair plastered to her face, dress ruined beyond repair.

But amid the tears and smeared makeup, something else caught her eye. A small scar near her hairline, a souvenir from one of Emily's "accidents." She'd been cleaning the crystal chandelier when Emily had bumped the ladder. The fall had required twelve stitches.

"So clumsy," Emily had told the doctor. "But what can you expect from someone of her... background?"

The rain had finally stopped, but Mona remained huddled in the shelter, her mind drifting to memories from before. Before the Caldwells. Before Samuel.

She remembered the house she grew up in, a mansion bigger than the Caldwells', filled with warmth and love. The garden where her mother grew roses. Her father's study with its walls of books.

"Princess," her father would call her. "My clever little princess."

Her father, James Smith, had built his company from nothing. "Hard work and honesty," he always said. "That's the foundation of true success." He'd wanted her to take over someday.

Her mother's face floated in her memory, beautiful Grace Smith, with her gentle smile and steel spine.

"Never let them see you cry," she'd say. "You're a Smith. We bend, but we don't break."

Her eighteenth birthday, the last happy day. Her father had given her a delicate gold necklace with a tiny key pendant.

"This is for my princess," he'd said. "To remind you that you can unlock any door life puts in front of you."

Three days later, everything changed. The police at the door. "Terrible accident... car went off the road... died instantly..."

Then came the vultures. "You're too young to run a company," they said. And then Samuel appeared, handsome, charming Samuel Caldwell.

"You don't have to do this alone anymore," he'd said. "Let me help you."

Help. She almost laughed at the memory. He'd "helped" her right out of her inheritance.

The necklace, she touched her throat where it used to hang. Emily had taken it, claiming it was "too cheap" for a Caldwell wife.

"Sentimental trash," she'd called it.

Mona closed her eyes, trying to remember every detail of her parents' faces. The pride in their eyes when she brought home perfect grades.

"You can be anything you want to be," her father had always said. "The world is yours for the taking."

But the world had taken everything from her instead.

A car drove past, its headlights briefly illuminating Mona's face. In the glass reflection, she barely recognized herself. The crying woman from earlier was gone. In her place was something harder, colder.

Her father's voice came back to her: "You're smarter than any of them."

Her mother's words: "We bend, but we don't break."