The world outside the Montemayor residence was calm. The kind of stillness people prayed for after a long week. But inside, the silence was heavy—almost suffocating. Like the house itself knew what kind of truths were being hidden behind expensive walls.
In the grand kitchen, Leigh stood by the sink, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hands submerged in warm, soapy water. Her movements were gentle, careful, almost ritualistic as she washed each plate.
She had insisted on doing it.
Even with three maids present. Even after they offered—twice—to take over.
But Leigh needed something to do. Something to focus on.
She needed a reason not to cry.
Because no matter how many times she rinsed and scrubbed, she couldn't scrub out the memory of yesterday.
"Could I have one too, please."
One sentence.
One word—please—that had knocked down every wall she'd carefully built inside her.
For a moment, she thought things were changing. That maybe Ervin had softened. That maybe—just maybe—he was learning to treat her like a wife.
But reality came back fast. And it came cold.
Because after that moment, he returned to who he truly was.
Cruel. Dismissive. Distant.
"Why are you doing that?" His voice cut sharply through the kitchen.
Leigh didn't turn around. She already knew the tone. She could feel the venom behind it.
"There are maids for a reason," Ervin said, stepping closer. "You're not one of them."
"I want to," she replied quietly. "I need to do something."
He scoffed—sharp and bitter.
"You need to do something?" he repeated, voice laced with mockery. "Is being in the kitchen all day part of your dream life, Leigh?"
She didn't reply. Her hands remained in the sink, gripping a ceramic plate so tightly she thought it might crack between her fingers.
"You're not here to scrub dishes. Know your place," he said coldly, stepping closer behind her. "You look like one of the help. And if my grandfather sees you like this, it'll be embarrassing."
Leigh shut her eyes, fighting the sting behind them.
There it was—again.
The truth she kept trying to ignore: he was ashamed of her.
"I'll change before he arrives," she whispered, barely trusting her voice.
"Good," Ervin said without warmth. "Don't say anything unless he speaks to you. Just stand there and smile. That's all you need to do."
And then he left the kitchen, the sound of his polished shoes echoing in the hallway like a warning.
Noon came, bringing with it an unfamiliar tension in the air. Even the maids moved quietly, eyes flicking toward the door every few seconds. They knew someone important was coming.
Someone powerful.
And then the car arrived.
A sleek, black vintage Rolls-Royce pulled up the driveway. A driver in uniform stepped out and opened the back door.
From it emerged a man with silver hair, broad shoulders, and an aura that made time seem to pause.
Ervin adjusted his collar in the mirror once, then again, then once more. For the first time, Leigh saw something strange in his reflection—not fear exactly.
But a deep, nervous kind of tension.
A quiet dread.
"Grandpa," Ervin greeted stiffly as the older man entered the house.
The maids bowed slightly.
Leigh, standing just beyond the archway, caught her breath.
She had never met Ervin's grandfather before. Never even seen a photo. But there he was—tall, composed, eyes sharp as steel, and movements slow but commanding.
"I thought I'd finally meet the woman you married," Grandpa said as he handed his cane to the butler. "You never bring her to any family dinners. Makes me wonder what you're hiding."
Ervin let out a strained chuckle. "Of course not, Grandpa. I was just… waiting for the right time."
"Well," Grandpa said, eyes narrowing slightly. "That time is now."
Leigh stepped forward.
Her lavender dress had been changed to a clean cream blouse and a flowing skirt. She had brushed her hair back into a neat bun. Her heart thundered in her chest.
Leigh, bowing her head a little. "I'm Leigh."
There was a pause.
Grandpa looked at her—really looked.
His eyes scanned her form. Not with the judgment Ervin so often gave her, but with curiosity. Thought. A touch of calculation.
"You're… quiet," he said slowly.
"Yes, sir," Leigh answered.
"Smart girl," Grandpa nodded. "Too many loud mouths in this world."
Ervin forced a laugh. "Yeah, she's… shy."
Grandpa turned to him, his expression unreadable. "Shy is good. But not broken. There's a difference."
Something in his tone made Leigh look up.
And for the briefest moment, Grandpa's eyes met hers again—softened, just slightly.
He saw something.
He didn't say it. But Leigh could tell.
He saw pain.
And Ervin knew it, too. Because suddenly, his posture stiffened. He cleared his throat.
"Would you like something to drink, Grandpa?"
"Not yet," the old man said. "I want to talk to her. Alone."
Ervin froze.
Leigh blinked.
The room fell quiet.
And in that silence, the lie Ervin had built around their marriage began to tremble—just slightly.
Because Grandpa wasn't fooled.
Not by Leigh's quiet voice.
Not by Ervin's polished smile.
Not by any of it.
He could sense something was wrong.
And Ervin? For once, didn't know how to stop it.
Just before Grandpa spoke, Ervin stepped forward and, surprisingly, said, "Grandpa, you can use my office if you want to talk to her privately. It's quieter there."
Leigh looked at him, stunned. It wasn't what she expected from him—again. But before she could read too much into it, she reminded herself of what he told her earlier in the kitchen. Know your place. The sting of those words still burned.
Grandpa gave his grandson a nod of approval. "That would be nice. Thank you, Ervin."
Ervin walked ahead to open the door for them, then left without another word.
As Leigh sat across from Grandpa inside Ervin's office, the atmosphere was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant clinking of silverware from the dining hall. The office was neat and formal—much like the man Leigh had married—but it lacked warmth. Much like him, too.
Grandpa settled into the leather chair opposite her, his hands resting calmly on his cane. His eyes, though wrinkled with age, carried a sharp, discerning kindness.
"I know my grandson, Leigh," he began gently, looking straight into her eyes. "And I know he can be… well, let's be honest—cruel. Mean-spirited."
Leigh froze, stunned that someone so close to Ervin could say such a thing aloud. She didn't respond, but she didn't deny it either.
"I see it in the way you move around here," Grandpa continued. "Too careful. Too quiet. That's not how a wife should live in her own home."
Leigh's fingers curled slightly against her lap.
"I didn't come here to meddle, Leigh. But I do want you to know something," Grandpa said. "Ervin wasn't always like this."
Leigh lifted her eyes slowly.
"He lost both of his parents in a car accident when he was six. My son, his father, was a good man—but busy. His mother, a kind woman—but fragile. When they died, the boy who remained… wasn't the same."
Leigh's breath caught in her throat.
"He stopped smiling. He stopped trusting. He was passed around from one cold hand to another. I tried, Leigh, I did. But a grandfather's love isn't always enough to heal a heart that young."
Silence filled the room for a moment.
"I'm not telling you this to excuse him," Grandpa said firmly. "Cruelty is never right. But I want you to know that the man he is… was shaped by pain he never learned to face."
Leigh looked away, trying to blink back something that felt too much like pity.
"He chose you," Grandpa said quietly. "Whether he admits it or not, whether he wanted to or not—you're here now. And something tells me, you're stronger than you look."
Leigh met his gaze again, her throat tight.
"You don't have to endure disrespect," he added after a pause. "But maybe… just maybe… he needs someone to remind him what love looks like. Even if he doesn't know how to show it yet."
She couldn't speak. The words, the truth, the ache behind it all—it stirred something old and heavy inside her. She didn't know if it was hope… or just more heartbreak.
Grandpa gave her a soft smile, then stood up slowly. "Let's go, shall we? If we stay too long, Ervin might think we're planning a revolution."
That made Leigh chuckle under her breath, surprising even herself.
As they stepped out of the office together, Leigh didn't feel lighter—but she did feel seen. For the first time since entering the Montemayor mansion… someone truly saw her.