A Lesson in Respect

I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror, disgusted by the small-mindedness that had consumed my previous life. I had wasted so many years desperately trying to prove I was pretty, breaking my back to show I was worthy of Declan's affection. What a pathetic waste of time. Given a second shot at life, my perspective had shifted. Beauty was just one card in my deck. It was a useful tool, but relying on it alone was a fool's game. Power, money, and respect were the real game-changers that dictated reality. I was done playing the modest, submissive wife.

I turned away from the mirror and unbuttoned the relaxed, flowy dress. The fabric pooled around my ankles, leaving me in nothing but my underwear. For five years, I had hidden my body behind sensible necklines and loose fabrics just to keep Declan comfortable, just to project the image of a good girl. I walked over to my closet and shoved those dull, casual garments aside. Buried in the back was a piece I had bought on a whim years ago but never dared to wear.

I deliberately pulled out the tight, backless lace minidress. I slipped it over my head and smoothed the delicate fabric down my waist. It hugged every curve, showcasing my figure flawlessly. The deep cut in the back left my skin exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. I looked back at the mirror. Why on earth had I wasted this killer body hiding in the shadows?

Later that afternoon, the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the front yard. A sleek black SUV pulled into the driveway, the heavy tires crunching against the gravel. I stood by the living room window, expecting to see Gibson, Declan’s usual driver, hop out to open the door for my six-year-old daughter. Instead, the driver’s side door swung open, and Declan himself stepped out. He wore a tailored suit that screamed corporate power, looking every bit the untouchable CEO. He walked around to the back, opened the door, and took Hazel's hand.

They walked through the front door. I remained seated on the living room couch, crossing my bare legs. The moment Hazel’s eyes landed on me, her small face twisted in raw anger. She gripped the straps of her heavy school backpack, swung it back, and hurled it directly at my body. The heavy canvas bag hit the coffee table with a loud thud, scattering a few magazines onto the floor.

"Why didn't you pick me up?" Hazel yelled. She stood in the entryway with her hands planted on her hips, her chin thrust forward. She looked and sounded exactly like a spoiled princess barking orders at a hardworking maid. "You promised you would be on time every day! You're a liar!"

I shifted my gaze to Declan. In my past life, seeing him standing there with that signature scowl would have sent me into a spiral of guilt. I would have apologized, rushed to soothe Hazel, and begged for his understanding. I had loved him so deeply that I lost my entire identity in the process. But now? He was a stranger. A ghost standing in my foyer. Seeing him did nothing to soften my resolve. He was dead to me.

"I never want to talk to you again!" Hazel shrieked, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. "You are a terrible mom!"

I stood up from the couch. The lace minidress clung to my thighs as I closed the distance between us in three quick strides. I cornered her at the bottom of the stairs before she could run up to her room. I reached out and gripped the collar of her school uniform firmly, holding her in place.

Hazel thrashed against my hold, her eyes wide with blazing fury. She wasn't used to this. She was used to a pushover.

"Pick up your backpack," I said. My voice was calm, but hard as stone.

"NO!" she screamed right in my face, spitting out the word with venom.

I didn't hesitate. I raised my hand, preparing to discipline her for the blatant disrespect. Hazel gasped, squeezing her eyes shut and bracing for the hit.

Before my hand could descend, a strong grip clamped around my wrist. Declan stepped between us, his jaw clenched tight.

"Serena," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

I met his gaze, my expression flat. I yanked my wrist out of his grasp. Declan bent down, picked up the discarded heavy backpack himself, and took our fuming daughter by the hand, leading her up the stairs without another word.

The loud commotion brought my mother rushing out of the kitchen. She wiped her hands on her apron, looking up the staircase with a worried frown. "What is going on out here? Is that Hazel crying?"

I turned to face her. "I was disciplining her. She threw her bag at me."

Mom shook her head, her face etched with disapproval. "She is just a kid, Serena. You don't need to be so strict."

"She needs to learn exactly who is in charge," I told her coldly. "I am done coddling an ungrateful, entitled child. If I keep treating her like royalty, she will just end up fawning over her future stepmom and treating me like dirt."

Mom blinked, taken aback by my harsh tone. I had always babied Hazel, spending hours coaxing her out of tantrums. This cold detachment was brand new to her.

I didn't give her time to process it. I walked past her into the kitchen, smelling the garlic and onions sizzling on the stove. "By the way, I am going to the housekeeping agency first thing tomorrow morning."

Mom picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the pan, looking at me with confusion. "Why? Are you going to replace the cleaning crew?"

"No," I said, leaning against the counter. "I am hiring two full-time maids to live here."

Mom nearly dropped the spoon. "Two full-time maids? Why? This house doesn't require that much work. You do the cooking, the laundry, and pick up Hazel. Can't you handle that anymore?"

I looked her dead in the eye. "I am a wealthy man's wife, Mom. I am officially done scrubbing floors and breaking my back to keep this house running. Families with our income have a full staff. Why should I act like a servant? We can afford it."

Mom opened her mouth to argue, but a loud hiss from the pan interrupted her. The food was on the verge of burning. She scrambled to turn down the heat, muttering under her breath, leaving my declaration hanging in the air.

Half an hour later, dinner was finally ready. The table was set with five different dishes and a steaming bowl of soup. I walked upstairs to fetch Declan and Hazel.

I pushed open the door to the kids' room and stepped inside. Any lingering trace of maternal warmth I might have held onto vanished in an instant.

Hazel sat on the floor, her face stained with tears. But she wasn't just crying. Her small hands were busy gripping a pair of sharp metal scissors. Scattered across the carpet were pieces of our family photos. She was viciously cutting them up, deliberately shredding my face into tiny, unrecognizable pieces while carefully keeping her own face and Declan's face intact.

I stood over her, looking down at the scattered fragments of my past life. She noticed my shadow and looked up, glaring at me with eyes full of fire.

"I don't want you as my mom!" she declared, her voice thick with spite. "You are mean! You yelled at me!"

I stared at the ruined photos. "If not me, then who?" I asked her calmly.

Hazel didn't miss a beat. "I want Chloe to be my mom!" she blurted out. "Chloe is nice to me! Not like you. You lie to me and you raise your voice. I want Chloe!"

The name hit the air like a crack of thunder. Chloe. Declan's assistant. Declan's mistress. I hadn't expected Hazel to mention Chloe so soon, let alone prefer her over me. I wanted to dig deeper, to ask her exactly how much time she had spent with this woman behind my back.

Before I could get another word out, Declan's stern voice cut into the room from the doorway. "Hazel, stop talking nonsense."

Hazel jumped. She dropped the scissors onto the carpet, scrambled to her feet, and darted straight into Declan's arms. She buried her face in his suit jacket, sniffling loudly.

Declan wrapped an arm around her, but his gaze snapped to me.

He hadn't really looked at me downstairs. Now, standing in the bright light of the kids' room, his eyes roamed over my body. He took in the tight lace minidress clinging to my hips. He took in the plunging backless cut. He took in the expanse of my cream-tender skin exposed for the world to see.

Declan's gaze locked onto my figure, his eyes wide with absolute shock as he took in my tight lace minidress and cream-tender skin.