The man in front of me ran his fingers through the messy dark waves of his brown hair. His features strongly shout that he is a Spanish man. He slightly bit his lips and was acting as if trying to seduce me but it ended up being weird in my viewpoint.

　　Not that he was not attractive at all. He seems to be a fine man but my husband is way wealthier for him to thwart. My husband. "What could he be doing right now?" I mentally asked myself.

　　I am currently in a luxurious cafe, which I hated the most because of its eerie scent. I greatly abhor expensive places for no good reason. It may have been impressive to the others but my standards thought otherwise. Well, I was merely here as wished by my stepmother.

　　I know she's up to something, now that my father had been very ill, she must have a plan to wreck my life to the fullest, same goes for my stepsister. Those wicked witches never liked me. Though, not as much as I disdained them myself.

　　I crossed my leg and sat comfortably on the small couch. The aroma of the coffee tingles up to my nostrils and it would be such a waste if I wouldn't give it a taste. Savoring its' flavor of mixed ash bitter and natural sweetness, bittersweet perhaps, soothes me.

　　"So... Ms. Throndsen, how's life?" The noble lad casually asked me, like we were close friends or something. He seems to be in a bright mood as opposed to what I am feeling.

　　I raised my head and gave him a sharp gaze. "Plain and boring," I softly murmured but was still audible for him to hear.

　　I withdrew my eyes back to the cup of brewed coffee when I felt the shoes of this man, caressing my legs. My eyes instantly shut because of the disgusting feeling. "Stop," I ordered like a boss.

　　He then stopped on his actions and stated, "Feisty. I like that."

　　I glared at the coffee. Poor thing, it was the only one I have to pour out my frustrations into. "Would you mind if I take you to my place after this?" The man raised a question which I nonchalantly ignored.

　　He must be feeling the rejection right now or he'll likely be dumb. I just showered my attention on the drink when I felt rough big hands crawling up to my thighs. This man is a certified dumbass!

　　"Back off, Mister Vicioso. Oh, and by the way, call me Mrs. Carson." I wryly smiled while looking at him straight in the eye. "Go find another woman to play with. I'm not available and definitely not interested in you," I rejected, straightforward.

　　I grab my purse and left the man in the cafe without further notice. I have been experiencing the same boring dilemma for almost a month now and as you can see, nothing seems to be more exciting.

　　My stepmother, Aerlian Throndsen, put me in this kind of situation every damn weekend. I'm a married woman but she still urges me to date some other guys. My husband didn't know yet, he didn't even care either. He's more likely to choose some random chick than his wife.

　　Evander and I were a wedded couple by law and that's it. We are not a couple by lifetime commitments, by genuine vows, and neither a couple by heart and soul. I didn't yearn for more since the marriage was only to fulfill my dear father's death wish.

　　My father is not dead, yet. He's been terribly sick, brain dead, and will surely be announced as lifeless sooner or later. Still, he achieved his ambition to make me marry an impressive man before he dies.

　　I hailed a cab and told the driver my home address. Resting my head on the car's window, I reminisce the moments I had with my father. Those were the only good memories I have in my existence, the only remembrances I'll cherish in this lifetime. The recalls kept going not until my phone rang.

　　Alarmed by the continuous sound, I quickly took my phone from the pouch and accepted the call. "Yes?" I spoke for the unknown caller on the other line to hear but there was no reply at all so, I paused for a few seconds.

　　"Hello?" I repeated.

　　Then, I heard a voice of a woman. "Madame, I have something to tell you," the caller confessed in a shaky voice. I instantly recognized the woman's French accent, it is one of our loyal housekeepers.

　　"Yes? What happened?" I asked, bothered by her sudden call. My heart was now also throbbing at an abnormal speed. "Sir Throndsen was rushed to the hospital–"

　　I cut her off with a vociferous sob. The driver looked at me through the rear-view mirror but I couldn't care less. My father was often rushed to the hospital and there has been no assurance if he'll recover or not.

　　"Turn around," I firmly ordered the taxi driver.

　　"I'm so sorry, Miss, but we can not take a U-turn here. We must wait for the next road intersection," the driver contradicted. I grimaced at him and my stubbornness reigns the most of my system.

　　"Disobey me and you'll be dead, Mister." Stating those dark words with evident threat and pure vileness happened to be one of my specialties.

　　I'm not a harsh woman nor a fine one. I flowed freely with my sins and scars, making those envious women judged me without knowing my side of the story. It's not easy to be me and I know I'm one of a kind, probably the reason why I got the most hate.

　　A satisfied smirk crept up to the side of my lips when the driver obediently made a U-turn, omitting the validity of traffic laws. "Drive quickly," I again instructed him with the same apparent warning in my dark tone.

　　As commanded, the poor driver stepped on the cab's accelerator, giving the car the speed that I preferred. We reached the hospital in no time, the place where my father suffered and struggled for his life.

　　"Here." I handed him my payment as I stepped out of the car and was greeted by the cool breeze. Its' calmness hugged my fair skin, adding some chill to what I'm expecting to this day.

　　My head went up to look at the huge building in front of me. The structure was painted in simple white paint. White can be confusing; it symbolizes purity and innocence, but the color can also appear stark, cold, and isolated.

　　I inhaled and let out a heavy sigh, "Prepare yourself for the worst, Riagail."

　　I went inside the hospital with my chin slightly raised, and my heart is being prepared for the expected circumstances that await me.

　　"Aldrich Throndsen," I plainly told the receptionist the minute I came near the hotel's reception area.

　　"Private room number seven, Miss," the female receptionist answered after she got the urgent information that I needed on her computer.

　　I smiled at her before I walked straight to my father's private room, however, my face turned straight-faced when I met my stepmom along the way. I stopped in my tracks by the time she faced me with her usual expression that truly resembled the look of witches. She raised an eyebrow and gritted her teeth.

　　I then received a hard smash between her hand and my face afterward. The doctors and nurses halted in their steps when they saw the occurrence. Some of the patients and visitors similarly looked on our way. Hence, whispers and distinct gossips resounded in my ears afterwards.

　　Stroking my heated cheeks, I looked at my stepmom with disbelief. What the fuck? How dare she slap me like that? I have known her long enough as a living demon. I guess I underestimated her vice. How could she do such a thing to me in front of a lot of people?

　　Though, I didn't fucking care about the humiliation. Still, I couldn't let it pass! My dignity was ruined by this crazy old lady!

　　"What the hell was that for?" I growled, my eyes were shooting invisible daggers at her. "Are you doing this to embarrass me or is it because my father will soon be finally dead? It is the time that you've certainly awaited, right?" I snarled and received another slap in the face for the second time.

　　"Don't you dare talk to your mother like that, Riagail! Have some respect, for Pete's sake!" She fumed, probably hurt by the truth my tongue disclosed. I glanced at her, relishing the vixen that I am.

　　"You are not my mother, Aerlian Hussein! I hated you! As for the respect issue, I only respect those who deserve such great virtue!" I exclaimed right through her face.