Polly's POV
“Sebastian, this wedding dress is stunning! Can I have it? I want to wear it too!” Adele’s voice rang out as she came bouncing down the stairs.
Sebastian didn’t even hesitate and said, “Polly, give the dress to Adele. She’s young and beautiful. She’ll look good in it. You, on the other hand, just shuffle around doing housework all day. You're already wrinkled face and out of shape, it won't suit you.”
Adele giggled sweetly. “You’re the best, Sebastian.”
That dress wasn’t just fabric to me. I’d spent five years designing and perfecting it for our wedding. Every stitch carried my love, my hope, my devotion. I couldn’t even blame Adele for liking it.
But when I looked at Sebastian through my tear-reddened eyes, his expression was cold.
“Don’t be stingy,” he said. “Just name your price.”
Five years of marriage built on servitude. Five years of being the live-in maid, whom no one respected. What was a wedding dress like that worth now?
Honestly, I didn’t care anymore.
The last time I didn’t give up my seat next to Sebastian on the Ferris wheel for Adele, I ended up tied to a seat and forced to go around all night long.
As I received a message, I glanced down at my phone.
[I submitted the entry form. I’ll come pick you up.]
I calmly unlocked the glass case holding the dress, opened it, and then walked back to the guest room without another word. I couldn’t stomach watching their disgusting flirting any longer.
That evening, I was reviewing race data from different clubs when there was a knock at my door. It was Adele.
I didn’t want to talk to her, so I went to shut the door, but she shoved it open with her hand.
She stood there, towering over me with a smug, crooked smile. “Haven’t seen you in a while. You’ve gotten better at playing your cards, haven’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said flatly. “I need to rest.”
But she just sneered and stepped closer, whispering in my ear, “I heard you can’t get pregnant. Ever.”
My fists clenched so tightly they shook. I bit my lip and glared at her, heart pounding.
She looked pleased, like she’d hit a nerve, exactly what she wanted.
“Wanna bet how long it’ll take me to get pregnant with Sebastian’s baby?” she smirked. “Oh, and guess where that veggie juice you drank three years ago came from?”
I shut my eyes, forcing back the fury. My voice trembled as I said, “Get out.”
Only then did she finally leave. But the moment she did, I collapsed against the door and slid to the floor.
I buried my face in my hands and started to sob because everything she said was true.
I would never be able to have children again.
The first time I got pregnant, I had a miscarriage after drinking the “vegetable juice” Sebastian brought home. The second time, I lost the baby after Christian smeared oil on the stairs and I fell down an entire flight.
I bit my lip hard, trying to stifle my cries, but the pain was everywhere. Tiny needles piercing through every inch of my skin, sinking deep into my bones.
The next morning, laughter in the backyard woke me.
I opened the window only to see Adele playing in the garden with Christian while Sebastian sat nearby, watching them with a soft smile.
Anyone looking at them would’ve thought they were a real family.
I closed the window, but their voices still came through like needles under my skin.
I grabbed my bag and headed out. I needed to finalize my racing license and entry documents.
But just as I stepped outside, Adele strolled over.
“You heading out?” she asked casually. “I’ve been craving the pastries from that shop in the north alley. Can you bring me some back?”
Then she added with a triumphant grin, “Thanks for the favor, Mrs. Trivett.”
She stressed the words 'Mrs. Trivett' like a slap to the face, looking me up and down with that same smugness.
I glanced at the red marks on her neck, proof of her night with Sebastian, and felt my fingers curl into fists. I couldn’t stand it, so I left without another word.
After I got everything sorted for the race, I wandered around aimlessly until nightfall before slowly making my way back.
I dropped the pastries on the coffee table and headed upstairs, hoping to avoid everyone.
But Sebastian’s voice cut through the silence behind me.
“You came back and didn’t even say hello?”
I ignored him.
But his tone cooled further. “Come here.”
I calmly slipped off my shoes and put them in the cabinet, my face unreadable.
“Polly,” he said, more sternly, “I don’t like repeating myself.”
Not wanting to start a fight right before leaving, I reluctantly sat beside him.
He frowned, studying my face. “Where have you been all day? You didn’t even make food for Adele or Christian. What kind of housewife can’t even manage the basics? We had to eat instant noodles because of that.”
“Nowhere in particular. Just wandered around,” I simply replied.
He seemed unsettled by my coldness. For a second, something flickered across his face.
He picked up a slice of carrot with his chopsticks and dropped it in my bowl. “You haven’t eaten, have you? Eat something before going back to your room.”
I looked at the carrot and let out a bitter laugh. “Sebastian, I’m allergic to carrots. I can’t eat them.”
He froze, clearly surprised. But before he could react, I pushed back my chair and walked out.
After my shower that night, I stepped out of the bathroom only to find Sebastian sitting on my bed, going through my laptop.
I swallowed the disgust rising in my throat and asked, “Do you need something?”
But he didn’t answer my question and just remarked, “Looks like you’ve cleared out a lot of your stuff from the room.”
My heart skipped a beat. Was he onto me? Was he going to ruin my escape?
“I just got bored,” I replied calmly. “Thought I’d change the decor.”
He nodded, seeming to believe it. But then he said something that made my stomach clench again.
“Someone messaged you just now, asking when you’ll be back on the racetrack.”
He got up and walked toward me, his voice low. “What racetrack? I don’t remember hearing about this.”
I cut him off before he could dig further. “It’s just some in-game chat about a virtual race. Don’t overthink it.”
He stared at me for a moment, like he couldn’t decide whether to believe me or not. But in the end, he dropped it.
I lay down on the bed, hoping he’d leave.
Instead, the next thing I felt was his arm sliding around my waist.
I gasped, immediately pushing him back with both hands.
His brows furrowed at my reaction, sharp and panicked.
I used to be the one who craved his affection, who clung to every little bit of warmth he offered. But what did I just do?
His breath was hot against my ear as he leaned closer.
But I couldn’t take it anymore and shoved him away, breathing heavily. “Sorry, I’m not feeling well tonight.”
