Mr. Villain's Lovely Wife

Chapter 7

“Hey are you listening?” Monica's voice pulled Izzy out of her spor.

“Sorry, | was thinking about something.” Izzy said.

“Is it work again? Con! You just arrived from a work trip, practically exhausted and sick. Can you at least

take stoff Monica asked, frowning. Her beautiful blue eyes glinted with something that Izzy thought of

as hate. If this had happened in the past, she would have thought that Monica hated Calen and Izzy's job. Now,

Izzy knew this was Monica showing her hate towards her. Had she been this naive for year

“Calen askedto finish something and send it to him,” Izzy lied. She had just arrived from her chaotic

escapade with Liam, and the last thing on her mind was the bag that Monica wanted to buy. In just a day, Izzy

went from being excited for her anniversary, to being betrayed by her cousin and boyfriend, and to marrying the

man she hated. It felt like a dream-a nightmare-and a part of her still wanted to wake up from it all.

“I told you, Izzy, that man is overworking you like a damn horse Monica shifted her weight in Izzy's bed. She then

lay on her side, supporting her head with her palm. “That man has been with you since you were in college, and

he has been taking advantage of you.”

Izzy let out a chuckle. How could Monica talk like this, as if she wasn’t the one screwing Calen just a night ago?

Two-faced, Izzy thought. How could she say all these things, sound so concerned, and then stab her in the back?

No. Monica didn’t just stab her. In fact, stabbing her would have been better than what she did.

Monica betrayed her. Hate started coursing through Izzy's body. She fought the urge to confront her cousin as

she closed her eyes. She had to make a plan. She had to stay calm in all this. She couldn't fight this battle

without firearms, without ammunition.

And to do that, she had to stay in this place for a little longer.

“Don’t worry about it,” Izzy said with a smile, though she wasn’t sure how she managed it after everything that

had happened. She had no idea how she found the strength to lie down next to Monica, keeping up the act that

everything was perfectly fine. But then it hit her: her need to make them all pay was stronger than the pain she

felt at that moment.

“Anyway, as | was saying, the bag needed ssort of VVIP card It's actually not that expensive. I've been

saving for it for my birthday next week. However, | was informed that | actually needed a card to buy it. |

mean...” Monica started talking about a new limited edition bag from a brand called De Lune. It was a French

bag well known for its quality and price.

On normal days, Izzy would have immediately offered to buy the bag for Monica. Over the years, Izzy had always

bought her extravagant gifts for her birthday. Izzy snorted inwardly. That would have to change this year.

“Hey! Are you listening?” Monica asked, pouting.

“I am. De Lune’s becone of the top brands lately. I'm honestly surprised they let people just stroll into their

stores without any appointments.” 1zzy’s casual reply only deepened Monica's frown. “If you really want to buy

one, you have to spend thousands in their store to get that card. Perhaps hundreds of thousands of purchases

would suffice.”

“Hundreds of thousands?” Monica’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes. De Lune is well known for making their customers buy goods to get that VII

“Well, don’t you have that card? Perhaps | can just borrow yours

Izzy snorted inwardly. She knew this was coming. Monica always had that attitude. She would ask Izzy if she had

this or that and get disappointed when Izzy didn’t. Then she would start talking less and less and would soon

ignore 1zzy.

This has beca cycle. Growing up, Izzy thought this was just normal sisterhood tantrum. At one tshe

even thought

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13:11 Wed, Jan

Chapter 7

this was cute! She always thought of Monica as her younger sister as she’s a few months younger than Izzy. In

the end, she would give in and ‘surprise’ Monica with the thing she wanted.

Not today.

Not again.

“I don’t. | am not actually a fan of De Lune. But if you really was one, maybe you can buy those goods? They sell

scarves, among other things. I’m sure you'll love it,” 1zzy misterred.

Again. Monica pouted. “Right, of course. How could | forget something like that?” Monica didn’t hide the sarcasm

in her voice. “Anyway, | am really tired. | should just go back to my rogo. Finally, Monica sat back up and got

down from Izzy's queen-size bed. “Right, Mom wanted to know if you're still eating dinner. She prepared

something special.”

“I'm sorry, but I'm not really feeling well, Izzy said. “I badly need to sleep.” What she currently needed was to be

alone. Shet needed Monica out of her room.

“Right,” Monica said. Then she walked towards the door without saying anything else. Seeing this, Izzy smirked

inwardly. She had already expected this type of treatment

Monica finally left her room, closing the door behind her.

Almost immediately, Izzy quickly got out of bed and locked her door. Then she leaned against the locked door

and patted her chest. She'd thought she would explode the moment she say Monica again. She thought she

wouldn't have the strength to stop herself from slapping that woman's face.

She was wron

wrong.

Izzy stood in her room, the silence feeling almost oppressive. For more than ten years, she had called this place

home, and a part of her had grown to love it. Yet, something about it had always felt off, something she couldn't

quite put her finger on

until now.

She chuckled bitterly as it hit her. This room was smaller than Monica's. Not just a little smaller-significantly

smaller. All this time, she had lived here, thinking she was just as valued, just as cherished. But the house itself

told a different story.

Monica's room, occupying the entire third floor, had a walk-in closet, a spacious bathroom, and its own sitting

area. Meanwhile, Izzy's room, though it had its own bathroom, was modest in comparison. It had a simple closet,

nothing extravagant, which was fine with her. She never cared about buying expensive things, but the

symbolism of it gnawed at her, now. As the owner of this house, how the hell did she agree to sleep in the

smallest room?

Walking toward the large windows, she parted the heavy blackout curtains that had shielded her from the

outside world for years. The warm San Francisco air hit her as she stepped out onto the small balcony. For a

moment, the fresh air felt like a relief. She allowed herself to smile, even if it was brief.

She closed the door behind her, choosing not to turn on the lighus. She wanted to remain in the shadows, to

blend into the night, as she watched the city’s faint lights flicker in the distance. The faint sound of the wind

rustling the trees below was calming. But then, out of nowhere, she heard it-a voice.

She froze, listening carefully.

At first, it was just a soft murmur, distant and unintelligible. But then it becclearer. Someone was

whispering, not too far from where she stood. She quickly realized the voice was coming from the balcony just

above hers-Monica’s balcony. Izzy craned her neck slightly, trying to hear more without moving to close.

“She's tired and overworked. She didn’t want to eat. How is that my fault?” Monica’s voice floated down to Izzy's

ears. “Mom, seriously, why do you keep pushingto spend twith her?m an adult now and you know how

she is. Always acts like she’s better than everyone else just because, she’s smart. Do you know how many

people liked talking to her?! None. Zero Nada!”

Chapter 7

“Keep your voice down? her aunt's voice replied. “And stops drinking so much. What's gotten into you? Izzy's

lonely. She needs someone to be there for her

“Lonely!” Monica scoffed. “She just closed smultimillion-dollar deal for Calen. You really think she’s lonely?

She could buy a company if she wanted. She's fine.”

“Monica! We've talked about this,” her aunt snapped. “She’s turning twenty-six soon. We need her to sign over

this house and access that trust fund. You know I still haven't paid off everything your father owed. If they come

after us-

“She’s gotta be married to get that trust,” Monica interrupted, sounding annoyed. “Do you really think Calen’s

gonna marry her? He'd never

Izzy's heart stopped. Her hand flew to her mouth to keep from gasping out loud. How could they be talking like

this? Did her aunt know about Monica and Calen? The rest of their conversation confirmed her worst fears.

“I already told you, stop seeing Calen for now. We need that money. That's the least you deserve. So just go back

in there and bring her sfood. Act like a friend, | don’t know, maybe give her a massage.”

“Well, why don’t you do it?” Monica shot back, her voice sharper now. “I’m not doing it. I'm tired. | spent all day

with Calen I'm exhausted.

“You-Heraunt’s voice wavered. “Are we really doing this?”

“Fine!” Monica huffed. “But can | at least get a break? You have no idea how draining it is to fake it around her all

the time.”

Izzy heard the balcony door swing open with a loud creak, making her flinch. Then cthe slam as Monica

stormed inside. Izzy waited, her pulse racing. After a few tense moments, once she was sure they were gone,

she slipped back into her room, quickly locked the door, and turned off the lights.

She crawled into bed, pulling the sheets over her head, trying to calm her breathing. No matter what, she had to

act like she hadn't heard a thing

Just as she felt the tears welling up, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text message. She sniffled, wiped her

eyes, and grabbed it. The moment she opened the message, her face shifted from sad to something else

entirely. It was from an unknown number, but she didn’t need to guess.

[Goodnight, Darling. Dream oftonight.]

SEND GIFT