The Wrong Woman

The first rays of morning sunlight seeped through the window, painting the room with a gentle glow.

Mila was still in slumber when she heard the door creak open. Startled awake, she slowly rose, her gaze landing on an unexpected visitor.

Fenna stood at the doorway; her initial surprise quickly clouded with dismay. "Why are you sleeping in Nate's room?" she snapped.

Mila clenched her fists slowly, her irritation mounting as Fenna's intrusion disrupted the peace of the early morning. She wondered why Fenna would know the passcode to Nathan's room.

"Why shouldn't I stay in my husband's room?" Mila retorted, her tone tinged with annoyance.

With a grim expression, Fenna rushed into the bathroom, grabbing a cloth and setting to work on the chair and cabinet surfaces.

Mila watched her with confusion. "What's going on?" she asked, puzzled.

a disdainful snort, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

frustration, Mila asked calmly, "Why are

"Wanda, I'm Nate's assistant. For the past

expression darkened further. "What?"

dismissed her with a disdainful glance. "What else have you done other than causing him trouble? Have you ever cooked him a meal or done his laundry? Or even

All you know is to be jealous

childhood, her upbringing

had their strengths and

am his wife, not his maid. Why should

you married him, these

frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Does Norvania have laws that stipulate that a wife must cook, do laundry, serve, and clean?" With disdain etched