“Faster, Elena!” my mother shouted. “The edges are still dirty! Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean you’re a señorita! Remember where you came from. You grew up poor. You’re used to housework. Stop pretending!”
“M-Ma…” Elena cried, holding her lower back. “My stomach hurts… I feel dizzy…”
“I don’t care! Don’t stop until that floor is shining! And you maids—if any of you try to help her, I’ll fire you!”
My whole body went cold.
My mother… the woman I believed truly loved my wife… was turning her into a servant in my own house whenever I wasn’t around?
“MA!” I shouted.
They all jumped in shock. Doña Miranda turned pale when she saw me.
“M-Marco?” my mother stammered. “Son! You’re early! I thought you’d be home tonight!”
I rushed to Elena and helped her stand. She was trembling from exhaustion. Her knees were red from kneeling for so long.
“What are you doing to my wife?!” I shouted at my mother.
“Son, you’re mistaken!” my mother quickly changed her tone, suddenly gentle. “Elena insisted! She said she wanted to exercise! She said she wanted to help! Right, Elena?”
My mother looked at Elena with a threatening glare.
Elena lowered her head. “Y-Yes, Marco… I just wanted to clean…”
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