Kerry’s POV
Liv gently wiped away Cronan’s tears, then placed the cup in front of him.
“Don’t cry, Cronan. I made mac and cheese soup just for you. Try it.”
Obedient as always, Cronan immediately stopped crying. He took the cup from Liv’s hands and ate it with gusto.
Satisfied, he wiped the corner of his mouth, his eyes full of admiration for her.
“It’s super yummy, Auntie Liv! It’s better than anything I’ve ever tasted!”
He grinned, his childish voice soft but clear. “Auntie Liv, if only you were my mommy, then I’d be the happiest kid in the world…”
At his words, Hurley, sitting beside me, clicked his tongue in annoyance and turned toward me.
“See? Liv always knows how to cheer him up. If you had even half of her patience, he wouldn’t dislike you so much.”
I glanced at the bowl. Inside, the pasta wasn’t even cooked through. The sight made my lips curve in a bitter smile.
Hurley had always been picky. Too salty, too bland—he refused to eat either way.
Cronan’s stomach was weak since he was a toddler; the smallest mistake in food would leave him sick for half a day.
That was why I had signed up for professional cooking classes, carefully studying nutrition so I could design different meal plans for each of them.
Day after day, I wore myself out coming up with new breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, and not once did they ever compliment me.
And now, just for a bowl of mac and cheese soup made them overjoyed.
How funny.
Right before my eyes, Liv spooned some soup into another bowl and placed it in front of Hurley. She even used her own spoon.
For a moment, I thought he would push it away instinctively. After all, his obsessive-compulsive disorder was severe.
But he didn’t. Instead, he casually took the spoon and enjoyed every drop. His practiced movements told me this wasn’t the first time.
A sharp pain gripped my chest, as though someone had seized my heart and twisted.
In six years of marriage, Hurley had never touched anything I’d used. Once, thirsty by accident, he drank from my cup—only to smash it on the floor right after, rushing into the sink to rinse his mouth for half an hour, scrubbing his hands until blisters formed.
I had comforted myself then, thinking, ‘It’s his OCD. I can’t blame him.’
But now, that excuse stung like a slap across the face.
It wasn’t that Hurley and Cronan had no heart. They simply had no heart for me.
Still, it didn’t matter. Soon, I would be leaving them anyway.
At that moment, Liv filled another bowl and handed it toward me.
“Mrs. Beckham, I heard you studied cooking professionally. Why don’t you taste my soup and give me some advice? If there’s anything wrong, I can improve it.”
Her tone was polite, but her eyes brimmed with provocation.
Hurley frowned and cut in sharply, “She might have studied, but nothing she makes is half as good as yours. All those classes were a waste of money.”
He sneered, adding, “She’s not like you—always striving to improve yourself. Her head is only full of petty ideas to compete for favor.”
Cronan nodded quickly in agreement. “Daddy’s right. Auntie Liv, the moment you make something, you completely crush her. But she’s very jealous, so you’d better stay away from her. What if she tries to hurt you?”
My hand curled tightly into a fist at my side.
All these years, I had bent over backwards to win the Beckhams’s acceptance—pleasing my in-laws, tending to father and son with all my heart, never saying a word of complaint.
And yet, in return, I never heard even the slightest respect.
But Liv just wouldn’t let me off, insisting I taste her mac and cheese soup.
“No matter what, she is still ahead of me. It’s only right that I seek experience from the lady of the house.”
As she spoke, she once again held the steaming soup before me.
“I don’t have an appetite,” I said coldly, rejecting her.
The words had barely left my lips when Hurley’s reprimand lashed across my ears.
“If she asks you to taste it, then taste it. What, being called ‘lady of the house’ has really gone to your head?”
Cronan chimed in impatiently, “Just drink it! Once you do, you’ll realize how far beneath Auntie Liv you really are! Then maybe you’ll stop using your position as Daddy’s wife to pressure her!”
I drew in a long breath, forcing myself to reach for the bowl.
But just as I touched it, Liv deliberately loosened her grip.
The scalding soup spilled straight onto my hand.
Pain shot through me, sharp enough to make my teeth chatter. I looked up and met her triumphant gaze.
Something inside me snapped. Unable to restrain myself, I raised my hand and slapped her across the face.
The very next second, Hurley’s palm struck mine. The sound rang out, cruel and crisp.
“Kerry! Have you lost your mind?!”
