After the divorce, my ex-mother-in-law brought the whole family to laugh at my poverty, but when they crossed my private gate they understood too late: “The garbage is collected today, leave,” and their empire fell before them all that very night.

I stood there silently while clutching the handle of my small, battered suitcase and smoothed out the fabric of my simple cream dress that had seen better days.

For five long years, I had swallowed every insult and buried every scream deep in my throat while I watched this woman treat me like a servant at every holiday gathering.

“I honestly want to see how long you can survive without the support of the Weston family name,” Dominic added as he stepped closer to loom over me with an intimidating presence.

He looked around at his cousins and his sister, Sabrina, who were all watching the spectacle with amused expressions while the lawyers packed their briefcases nearby.

“My mother is absolutely right because you were never truly born for this level of society, and you were lucky that I decided to rescue you from your ordinary life in the first place,” he said.