My Husband's Mistress Denied Me Breakfast. So I Took His Empire.

Evelyn’s marriage to Marcus is strictly business. He gets his mistress. She gets wealth, freedom, and total peace—exactly how she likes it. She has zero interest in fighting for a man she never wanted.

But when his mistress, Chloe, mistakes Evelyn’s indifference for weakness and tries to dominate her every move, the rules change.

Genre: Family Drama, Contract Relationship

Theme/Trope: Family Love, Revenge, Betrayal, Marriage, Mistress, Billionaire

Warning: Violence

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Chapter 1: The Practical Heiress (Evelyn’s POV)

Being born into one of the wealthiest families in the country, I have always known that I probably wouldn't get to choose whom I married. I have also known that most men around me are nothing but untrustworthy, unreliable trash anyway. Although I concede that some of them do make excellent gold mines.

So, I didn’t make a fuss and married my fiancé, Marcus Vane.

At first, I still had hope. So, just like with everyone else I deal with, including my parents, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. After all, who knew if I would hit the lottery?

But, nope. During our very first meeting, he made it clear just how... uninterested he was in making things work with me. Being kind of chubby… Okay, fine, I WAS chubby and I still AM. Anyway… Being chubby, I was used to how some people view me. I could immediately tell how he thought of me by the way he looked at me and treated me. Yet, I didn’t care and I still don’t.

Seeing how stressed and unhappy most of my peers are, I have never had the desire to try adhering to the normal standards. I couldn't be bothered to stop indulging myself. I continued living an easy life without much of a care... within reasonable limits, of course. I don’t want to end up living a hard life just like those arrogant or unlucky heiresses in those short stories who end up bankrupt and all.

Like, it’s super unlikely but… what if I got unlucky?

So, I kept my grades reasonably good. Not amazing, but good enough. I indulge in good food and drink, but I also exercise and watch my calories so I am never more than just slightly thick. I may buy stuff I don’t need out of curiosity and throw money into angel investment platforms just for fun. Yet, that is still barely anything compared to the money I put into boring investments, relatively safe properties, and other assets.

See? I am very reasonable and practical.

And, so, given such an unworthy fiancé, I stopped hoping for a real relationship. Like, almost right away. I knew it in my gut that it was just a waste of time.

Then, I married him anyway because I still benefited from it. I mean… My yearly allowance increased almost tenfold the moment I became Mrs. Vane!

I know it’s much less than the money he showers on his beloved Chloe but… who cares?

I certainly don’t!

All I care about is that he doesn’t bother me and pays me on time. So, I live my life as if I am still single. I eat whatever I like, travel to interesting places, dance for exercise, and keep investing and growing my own money just because I can. My life isn’t missing anything even without Marcus.

It bugs me though that everyone seems to think I am obsessed with Marcus.

Like, why? Why? Why????!

I mean, if he were my type - strong, kind, and actually looked at me as a fellow human - I would have slimmed myself down and jumped him right away. Heck, I might even tie him up and more if I have to. I AM NOT SHY. And, I am certainly not an angel either. Either way, people seriously have no idea how I am when I am actually obsessed with someone.

Unfortunately, to everyone else, Marcus is hot. Well… physically, he is okay, I guess. But the moment he opens his mouth… no, he doesn’t even need to open his mouth. Just his attitude is enough to stink the whole place and ruin my day if I actually cared about him. Luckily, I don’t.

If he dies, I am still going to fake my tears but that’s it.

And so…

That is why I closed my eyes when I found out he had a mistress before our marriage.

That is why I closed my eyes again when I found out he had a child with his mistress, conceived through a surrogate after our marriage.

That is why I secretly helped them when they were about to be stupidly duped by the shady surrogacy agency into thinking their first child had died.

That is why I readily adopted the child Marcus openly admitted was his child with his mistress.

Wait… is that why people think I favour him? Yikes.

Anyway, that child was Leo. I welcomed him because I didn’t want to sleep with my husband. Leo was born with a defective heart but it was fixable. The cost was high though. Astronomically high.

Marcus and Chloe could afford the cost but most of the clients using the agency became a nightmare whenever it got to that point, either refusing to pay, or trying to sue them, or something just as bad. So, they lied. They lied to Marcus and Chloe that their child was dead so they could send the boy to a sordid orphanage.

Luckily, I was already monitoring Marcus and Chloe. Then, the overseas surrogacy agency. And, then, Leo, from before he was born.

That’s how Leo was saved from being neglected by his careless parents.

I thought that was that but, nope.

Who knew Marcus would be arrogant enough to openly order me into adopting Leo? Who knew Marcus would be bold enough to allow Chloe entering our home on regular basis under the pretence of taking care of Leo without discussing it with me? Sure, I accepted Leo as my adopted son and, I didn’t make a fuss about Chloe but, still… the nerve!

Chapter 2: The Requisition Form (Evelyn’s POV)

For the first few years, life was good. Like, really really good. I got to learn new things and experience being a mom without having to give birth to a child. The kid, Leo, is a sweetie too. He adores me and follows me around like a duckling. It is always funny to watch.

It’s annoying when he tries to follow me while I’m trying to take a dump though.

That is a line I WOULDN’T CROSS. Nope, never, not even for him.

Anyway, life was good until that STUPID MARCUS GAVE CHLOE THE RIGHT TO MANAGE HIS FINANCES WHICH INCLUDES MINE!

“Excuse me? Why do I need to submit an essay just for my breakfast?”

I was peacefully carrying Leo into the dining room where Chloe was waiting with a form. At first, I simply gave her a nod. Then, I noticed the table was empty. And, then, she had the nerve to ask me to fill out that stupid form just to get my breakfast!

“It’s not an essay,” Chloe replies calmly. “It’s a requisition form.”

I glare at her. “This is my home. Who are you to stop me from eating inside my own home?”

Her smirk catches my attention.

“Marcus has given me full authority to manage his finances. From now on, all household expenditures have to be approved by me.”

Oh.

I smirk back.

This bitch is asking for it.

“No.”

She loses the smirk pretty quickly. Before she can protest, I continue.

“I said no. I am not filling it out. You can either have the staff prepare my breakfast and Leo’s as usual… or…. I will… ah… retaliate. And, do you know what will happen after that, Chloe?”

I put Leo down and walk closer to Chloe.

“He won’t dare to defend you. Our marriage is simply business, but Marcus cannot afford a divorce. At least, not right now. The Kingstons are traditionalists after all. But, if you insist on this foolishness… Well…”

I stop there, giving her time to think.

Her eyes dart around nervously, trying to fill in the blank.

After waiting for a while, I pat her cheek.

“Now. Where is our breakfast, Chloe?”

For a second, Chloe says nothing. Then she laughs. It sounds forced. I guess I gave her brain too much credit.

“You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?”

“You would never divorce Marcus.” She lifts her chin, trying to recover that annoying confidence of hers. “Everyone knows how obsessed you are with him. You’ve tolerated me for years because you know Marcus will always choose me over you. You wouldn’t throw away the Vane name, the money, the lifestyle, everything you have, just because I asked you to fill out a form.”

Ah. So that’s what she thinks. Interesting.

I don’t bother correcting her.

Chloe takes my silence as victory and finally smiles again, although something about it is different now. Her eyes keep flicking toward my hand, the same hand that just patted her cheek, as if she still can't decide whether I am mocking her or warning her.

Good instinct.

“You need Marcus,” she continues. “Without him, what exactly are you?”

I tilt my head. “Do you actually want to find out?”

Her smile freezes. For the first time since I have known her, Chloe doesn’t immediately have something nasty to say. I can almost see her thinking. She knows how to deal with jealous wives, desperate socialites, greedy relatives, and women who cry when Marcus chooses her.

Apparently, she has absolutely no idea what to do with a wife who freely admits that her marriage is a business arrangement and casually threatens to burn the whole thing down.

Still, Chloe is Chloe. Backing down would probably kill her.

So she squares her shoulders and pushes the requisition form against my chest. “Fill it out.”

I look down at the paper. Then at her.

“Oh, Chloe.”

I take the form from her with a smile. Panic flashes across her face; the smile bothers her too much. Then, I tear the paper in half and drop the pieces onto the table between us.

That’s when she realizes something was truly off.

“You really should learn to listen when someone gives you a friendly warning.”

Chloe doesn't even have time to process the words before my fist connects with her jaw. Solidly.

It isn't a reckless, emotional swing. It is a textbook, fluid cross, the exact same punch I practice for hours on the heavy bag in my gym while visualizing the faces of people who annoy me.

The impact is loud and devastating. Chloe doesn’t even react to the first blow; she just stumbles backward, staring at me in absolute, paralyzed shock. She never expects me to actually attack her. Not me. Not the spoiled, overweight woman who spends her days eating, shopping, and dancing around. She doesn't know that my dancing is for cardio, and my martial arts class is for squishing pests.

Leo, bless him.

To him, I am his mother, not Chloe. Despite the excuses to enter my home regularly, Chloe is only ever here to flirt with Marcus. And, Marcus is a neglectful father. Thanks to him, Leo has no concept of father. Therefore, I am Leo’s everything.

He is cheering me on like a little monkey, the exact same way he laughs whenever he watches me obliterate my “sparring” partners.

Of course, I don’t stop here. Leo’s ovum donor deserves more.

I step into her space with seamless footwork, keeping my balance and driving another heavy blow into her ribs. Chloe tries to fight back. She really does. She claws at my arm and tries to shove me away, but I simply use her momentum against her, sweeping her leg and bringing her hard onto her knees.

As she tries to look up, my hand finds the heavy silver candelabra on the dining table. I grab it, raise it, and bash it straight down. Blood erupts from her hairline, blinding her. She tries to scramble away, to flee the dining room, but I grab her by the hair, dragging her backward.

The last thing Chloe sees before everything goes black is the household staff staring back at her, frozen in horror, with Leo’s innocent laughter ringing in the air.

Chapter 3: The Wake-Up Call (Chloe’s POV)

When Chloe opens her eyes, the world is a blinding, sterile white.

For several seconds, she just stares at the ceiling, waiting for the agony in her skull to stop pulsating. Her entire body aches. A deep, sickening throb radiates from her jaw down to her ribs, a violent reminder of the heavy silver candelabra. Then, the rhythmic, clinical beep of a heart monitor registers.

A hospital.

The memories hit her in a terrifying wave, making her chest seize. Evelyn. That heavy, unhesitant punch. The effortless, brutal efficiency of her footwork. The "spoiled, lazy wife" is a complete monster!

Before she can process the fear, the heavy door flies open.

Chloe flinches, pulling the scratchy hospital sheet tight against her chin. But it is just Marcus. His face is ghostly pale, his expression so tightly wound it looks psychotic. To Chloe, he isn't a threat, he is her saviour. Fresh tears immediately spill over her swollen cheeks.

“Marcus!”

She reaches out, her fingers trembling, desperate to hold onto him, to hear him say he will ruin Evelyn for this. “Marcus, Evelyn... she went crazy! She attacked me! I was only doing what you told me to do, I swear! I just told her you gave me authority over the household accounts and she-”

“What the hell were you thinking??”

The roar rattles the sterile walls.

Chloe freezes. Her hand remains suspended in the dead air between them, inches from his designer jacket.

“...What?” she whispers.

Marcus doesn't touch her. He doesn't even look at the thick white bandages wrapping her skull or the ugly, distorted purple bruising swelling over her eye. He vibrates with absolute, self-absorbed fury.

“I asked you to manage the accounts, Chloe!" Marcus hisses, violently flinging his hands into the air. "The accounts! I did NOT tell you to march into my house and pick a fight with my wife!”

Chloe stares at him, the sudden, cold contrast between her physical pain and his rage tightening like a noose around her neck. “Marcus... look at me! She put me in the hospital! She almost killed me!”

“BECAUSE YOU WENT LOOKING FOR IT!” Marcus fires back, his voice cracking with a high-pitched, unhinged panic. He slaps his own forehead, pacing wildly like a cornered animal at the foot of the bed. “What is wrong with your brain?! Are you out of your mind?!”

“Marcus-”

“I didn’t tell you to harass her! A fucking requisition form for breakfast?!” He lets out a harsh, breathless laugh that sounds entirely maniacal, his hands shaking violently as he grabs his own hair. "Who the hell do you think you are, Chloe?! Are you insane?! You ruined it! You ruined everything! She’s filing for divorce, the Kingstons are pulling out, and my father is going to strip my shares! I'm ruined, Chloe! I am fucking ruined because you couldn't just keep your mouth shut!"

Chloe shrinks back into her pillows in shock. The tears burn against her raw skin. The frantic rage turns into a cold, venomous glare as Marcus looms over her bed.

Desperate to find the man she loves, Chloe reaches out again, her fingers brushing the fabric of his sleeve. "Marcus, please-"

Marcus recoils violently, jerking his arm away as if her touch were radioactive. "Don't touch me! You've completely ruined me, Chloe! My father is ready to strip me of his inheritance, and I am going to end up with absolutely nothing because of your pathetic little power trip!"

He abruptly spins around, dragging both hands through his hair, ripping at the strands until his knuckles turn bone-white. He stares blindly at the wall, breathing heavily, his shoulders shaking.

For the first time, Chloe realizes the truth. Marcus isn't an all-powerful man. He is just as frightened as her. And... it's her fault.

Chapter 4: The Corporate Exile

The tea service inside the drawing room of the Vane estate is silent, save for the rhythmic clinking of fine porcelain.

The older Mr. and Mrs. Vane sit stiffly on the velvet sofa, their expressions a mixture of profound humiliation and tightly controlled desperation. Across from them sits Evelyn, looking utterly unbothered, calmly cutting a slice of butter cake for little Leo. The boy sits quietly beside her, his large eyes scanning the room before he happily takes a bite, completely unaware of the tension suffocating the adults.

"Evelyn, dear," Mrs. Elise Vane begins, her voice strained as she forces a fragile, diplomatic smile. "We understand that Marcus has been incredibly foolish. Giving that woman control over his household accounts was an insult to you, and we have already severely reprimanded him for it."

"Reprimanded?" Evelyn repeats, her tone light, almost conversational. She doesn't look up from her tea. "He let his mistress march into my home to demand that I ask HER permission just to have breakfast in my own dining room, Mother. Yet, you think just reprimanding him is enough?"

Mr. Gerald Vane clears his throat, his face flushing a deep crimson. "We... we are not defending his lack of oversight, Evelyn. But a divorce? Right now? The Kingston merger is in its final stages. The moment you filed for divorce and your family’s media outlets blasted his private indiscretions on the front pages, the Kingstons froze the deal!"

“As they should," Evelyn says simply, finally lifting her eyes to meet her father-in-law's gaze. "It is not my fault Marcus let his crotch rule his head. He knew it was a sensitive time. Yet, he still did it."

"He is the sole heir to the Vane empire, Evelyn!" Mrs. Vane pleads, leaning forward. "Think of the legacy. Surely, we can reach an agreement? A financial settlement to compensate for the emotional distress? If you withdraw the divorce, we can still save the Kingston merger."

Evelyn lets out a soft, melodic laugh that makes the elder Vanes freeze.

"The sole heir?" Evelyn murmurs. "Are you forgetting your own grandchild, Mother?"

She tilts her head toward Leo with a smirk. It’s an open secret, after all, that Leo is Marcus’s child. The Vanes wouldn’t accept him due to his lineage but… that’s not the question here.

Mrs. Vane gasps, her face red at the reminder.

"Evelyn, dear... This is... Leo is..." She stammers, her mind racing as she tries to salvage the family line. "You and Marcus are still young. We can fix this. If you don't want to carry a child, we can arrange for a proper, high-society surrogate. We can ensure the next Vane heir is born perfectly, under your name."

"Somehow… I knew you would say that, Mother," Evelyn says, smiling, her voice dripping with poisonous sugar.

Reaching into her Hermès bag, she slides a thick document across the marble table. It lands with a soft, definitive thud right in front of Mr. Vane.

"Which is why you need to look at this."

Mr. Vane frowns, picking up the file. His eyes widen as he reads the letterheads of several top-tier global fertility clinics. "Medical reports?"

“Marcus’s permanent infertility,” Evelyn replies. “For the past three years, he and Chloe have been secretly visiting specialists, desperate to conceive another child through surrogacy. The conclusion has always been the same. Marcus’s fertility was on a steady decline until… there was no more chance for him to sire a child.”

Mrs. Vane feels the colour drain from her face, her hand flying to her chest. "Infertile? Marcus? But how... how is that even possible? He already had Leo!"

"High society is full of tragic, unexplained medical anomalies," Evelyn murmurs, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. The paperwork was flawless. The global clinics were top-tier. And if the doctors diagnosed it as a natural, tragic decline, who were the Vanes to argue with science?

The medical records, conveniently, omit something though.

The anomaly has a name: Evelyn.

Years ago, the moment she confirmed that Leo was successfully born, Evelyn quietly deployed her resources. She has money. Connections. And, most importantly, patience. People like those two birdbrains don’t deserve to procreate more than necessary. She did what she had to.

She regrets nothing.

"So you see," Evelyn continues, setting her teacup down with a soft, definitive clink. "There will be no other heirs. There will be no second chances through our marriage or anyone else's. Your son is practically a eunuch. Leo is the only bloodline the Vane family has left… Unless you want father to sire another one."

Both of them look at her with pale faces as her giggles pierce the air.

Chapter 5: The Golden Cage (Marcus’s POV)

For three agonizing days, my luxury penthouse feels less like a sanctuary and more like a high-security cell.

Ever since the disastrous incident in the dining room, my father has placed Chloe and me under a strict, mandatory lockdown. Our corporate credit cards are frozen, our personal phones are confiscated, and security guards stand permanently outside the penthouse doors. The official reason given by the estate lawyers is "crisis management and media isolation."

In reality, we are completely in the dark. Every single attempt I make to call my father’s office or my mother’s personal line via the landline is deflected with cold, clinical efficiency.

By the third afternoon, the psychological pressure inside these four walls is unbearable.

I haven't slept in days. My eyes burn. I pace, kick the furniture, snap at the staff, and demand updates that never come. Chloe sits on the edge of the leather chaise, aggressively chewing on her thumbnail. The thick white bandage is gone, leaving an ugly, jagged red scar near her hairline from the candelabra.

"Where are they?!" I roar, kicking a velvet footstool across the room. "Three days, Chloe! My father hasn't called, my mother hasn't sent a message. What the hell is taking them so long to fix this?!"

"They're probably negotiating with the Kingstons, Marcus," Chloe whispers, her voice quivering with raw, jittery panic. She stands up, smoothing her silk robe with trembling hands. "Once the press cools down, your father will call. He has to. You're his only heir."

Before I can scream back, the heavy double doors of the penthouse click open.

My parents walk into the living room. They bear no resemblance to anxious parents arriving to rescue their son. They move with the cold, mechanical precision of corporate executioners.

I scramble forward, my palms sweating. "Father! Mother! Thank God. Is the Kingston merger back on track? Has Evelyn agreed to stop the divorce?!"

My father doesn't answer. He walks directly to the glass coffee table, slams a thick stack of newly drafted legal agreements into the centre of the table, and clicks open a heavy gold Montblanc pen, sliding it right next to the papers.

"Yes," my father announces, his voice flat, hollow, and utterly devoid of emotion. "The Kingston merger will proceed. But your life as you know it, Marcus, is finished. Sign the papers. Right now."

I freeze, my breath hitching as I lean over the table to read the bolded clauses. My eyes dart across the legal jargon, and my stomach completely drops. "What... what is this? My voting shares? They're being transferred directly to Evelyn?!"

"Every single one of them," my mother cuts in, her voice dripping with pure, unadulterated disgust. "You will remain the CEO because the Kingstons want operational continuity for the merger. But you no longer own a single percentage of this empire."

My jaw drops, my chest tightening as I look from her to the stark white pages. "Mother-"

"Furthermore, she has locked an ironclad personal freedom clause into this contract," she continues coldly, cutting me off without a second glance. "Since you are infertile, Evelyn is legally permitted to sleep and have a child with whomever she pleases. It will not be recognized as infidelity. The child will take her maiden name, and you will have zero rights to object."

“W- what? How did you…?” I feel the colour drain from my face, my hands shaking violently as I look up at my own parents. "Father, you can't let her do this! She's... She's publicly humiliating me!"

"You humiliated this family the moment you cheated on her!" my father barks, his face flushing crimson. "Look at the final addendum, Marcus. Effective immediately, both you and Chloe are permanently banned from ever entering Evelyn and Leo’s home. Both of you will live here, in this penthouse, on a fixed salary of $100,000 per YEAR."

My mother turns an icy, venomous glare toward Chloe, who is standing frozen by the kitchen counter. "Come here and sign this too," Mother commands coldly.

Chloe stumbles backward, her face turning translucent. "What? No... I'm not signing anything!"

"Then don't," my mother replies.

The sheer calmness of her voice makes Chloe freeze. Mother looks at her with a calm fury. "You are perfectly free to walk out that door. But the moment you do, you are done."

Seeing her trembling, my mother smiles without warmth. "Evelyn's lawyers have traced every single dollar Marcus used to fund you since the day she married him. The apartment, the cars, the jewellery, the vacations. If you sign, you can just stay here and live. But if you don't..."

"If I don't?" Chloe's voice cracks.

"Then you walk away today," my father cuts in. "Completely free. And tomorrow morning, Evelyn's legal team begins. Divorce proceedings, for us. As for YOU, they will strip you of every asset, challenge every bank transfer, and drag you through litigation until you are completely bankrupt and homeless. And unlike Marcus, you don't have a family empire to absorb the costs."

Chloe desperately turns toward me, but I can't meet her eyes. She grips the kitchen counter, trembling. "No..."

"Oh, yes," my mother murmurs. "You wanted the privileges of a Vane. Now you get the liabilities too."

Father turns his cold gaze to me. "And don't get clever, Marcus. Spend your salary on her if you want. But if you use a single cent of Vane corporate assets, family trusts, or employees for her benefit, our remaining family shares automatically transfer to Evelyn. She has a gun to our heads because of your stupidity."

My breath comes in shallow, panicked wheezes.

Chloe is crying silently now, staring at the pen as if it were a loaded gun.

"Sign it," my mother pressures. "Or leave."

That breaks her. Chloe steps forward, her hand shaking violently as she picks up the pen and inks her name onto the settlement. She accepts the cage because the open door terrifies her more.

When she drops the pen, I snatch it, my fingers numb as I force my own signature onto the dotted line.

My father immediately grabs the contracts and the pen, sliding them into his briefcase. He clicks it shut. Without another word, my parents turn and walk out. The heavy double doors close behind them.

They don't lock.

The silence that follows is suffocating. I stare at those unlocked doors for a long time.

Evelyn didn't just beat us. She built a flawless, invisible cage around our lives. I am still the CEO... but she is my boss. Chloe is free to leave... but leaving means a life more terrifying than death.

The door is right there. Neither of us dares to move.

Epilogue: Breakfast (Leo’s POV)

“THAT’S MINE!”

“No, it isn’t!”

“Yes, it is! My name is literally on the box!”

“I crossed it out!”

“That doesn’t make it yours!”

“It does now!”

I stare at the cake box in disbelief.

Sure enough, someone has drawn a thick black line through **LEO** and written **MAYA** above it in bright pink marker.

I look at my seventeen-year-old sister.

She looks back at me without a trace of shame, a fork already buried in what remains of my chocolate cake.

“You can’t just cross out someone’s name and claim ownership of their property.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s theft.”

“It was in the family refrigerator.”

“That doesn’t make it communal property!”

“It kind of does.”

“No, it doesn’t!”

“Mom!” Maya yells toward the kitchen. “Leo is oppressing me!”

“I AM NOT OPPRESSING YOU!”

“Just share!” Mom yells back.

I stare toward the kitchen in betrayal.

A smaller body suddenly slams into my back.

“Leo!”

“Oof!”

Tiny arms wrap around my neck.

I reach behind me and grab my youngest sister, Sophie, before the eight-year-old can accidentally strangle me.

“What?”

“Carry me.”

“You have legs.”

“I’m tired.”

“You just woke up.”

“I woke up tired.”

Fair enough. I hoist her onto my back. At twenty-two, I have somehow become the designated transportation system for the youngest member of our family.

Across the dining room, my fourteen-year-old brother, Adam, is completely ignoring the chaos. His headphones are on, his eyes are glued to his tablet, and judging by the rapid movement of his fingers, he is either having another argument with an online opponent or… playing a game he absolutely should not be playing at the breakfast table.

Beside him, eleven-year-old Noah is building a tower out of toast.

“Don’t play with your food,” I tell him.

“I’m not playing.”

“What are you doing?”

“Engineering.” The toast tower collapses. He stares at it. “Failed engineering.”

I sigh.

This is my family.

Technically, biologically, none of them are my siblings. Maya, Adam, Noah and Sophie all have the same mother. Our mother. Evelyn.

I don't.

Biologically, my mother is Chloe.

Biologically, my father is Marcus Vane.

 

Meanwhile, each of my four siblings was conceived using a different sperm donor Mom selected after studying their medical histories, genetic screenings, family backgrounds and whatever other information the fertility clinic gave her. She chose every donor herself.

Very carefully. Very methodically.

When I was younger, I once asked why all four of them had different donors. Mom looked genuinely confused by the question.

“Diversification.”

That was her answer. Diversification. Like they were an investment portfolio.

I laughed so hard I nearly choked.

Later, when I was old enough to understand exactly how I came into this family, I asked her something else. Why didn't she remarry?

She stared at me as if I were an idiot. Which, to be fair, I totally was.

“You do realize I’m technically still married to your sperm donor?”

Yep. How could I keep forgetting that?

Oh, right. Because that guy is never here.

Anyway, I don't care that my siblings and I don't share blood. Neither do they.

When Maya was six, some horrible little boy at school told her I wasn't her real brother. She bit him. Mom had to attend a meeting with the principal.

Mom smiled and demanded the boy to apologize first for being a little shit.

I would never forget the look on the principal’s face. Or the boy’s. Or his parents’. It was… an interesting experience.

“Leo!”

I snap back to reality.

“What?”

Maya points accusingly at Sophie, who is still hanging from my back.

“She ate the strawberry.”

“What strawberry?”

“The one on the cake.”

I stare at her.

 

“You ate the cake.”

“But I was saving the strawberry!”

“You stole my cake and now you're angry because someone stole part of the cake you stole from me?”

“Yes!”

I turn toward the kitchen.

“Mom!”

“Just share before I eat it all!”

My eyes widen. I immediately grab a piece.

“Hey!”

Maya complains.

Mom finally emerges from the kitchen carrying a large plate of buttered toast.

She's older now.

Obviously.

There are fine lines around her eyes, a few strands of grey in her hair. She still looks great though. Not stick-thin great. Just great in a way I can hug her without worrying she’s sick or starving.

She places the toast on the table and immediately slaps Noah's hand away when he reaches for three pieces at once.

“One.”

“But-”

“One.”

He takes one.

Mom sits at the head of the table.

I finally manage to get Sophie off my back and deposit her into the chair beside me.

Within seconds, everyone is eating.

This is what most weekends look like.

 

Loud. Chaotic. Someone is always stealing someone else's food. Someone is always complaining. Mom is always threatening to confiscate something.

And I love every second of it.

Growing up, people used to ask me whether I ever wanted to meet my “real mother.”

I hated that question.

I have met Chloe several times. I know who she is. I know who Marcus is too.

I know the whole ridiculous story. Mom never hid it from me once I was old enough to understand. She even showed me some of the documents. Apparently, she has documents for everything.

I once found a folder containing receipts from a vacation we took fifteen years earlier.

I asked why she still had them.

“Evidence.”

“Evidence of what?”

“You never know.”

So, I stopped asking, knowing there’s nothing more to explain.

Either way… Marcus and Chloe, they are alive. That's about as much as I care to say.

They are still my biological parents.

And I can’t help but pray every day that I never inherit their stupidity.

As for Grandfather and Grandmother, they once fawned over me endlessly while ignoring my siblings. Ignoring them completely for a few months seemed to fix that.

Then, they started inviting me to Vane corporate events. They talked endlessly about legacy. Duty. Inheritance. The future of the Vane family.

I hated it all.

When I was eighteen, Grandfather finally sat me down and asked when I intended to begin preparing for my place in the company.

I told him I would think about it. He looked like he was about to suffer an aneurysm.

When I told her, Mom just smirked and gave me her pancake. It was marvellous. It felt like victory. A very delicious one at that.

I did eventually join though.

Just so I can play support to whatever Mom decides.

Grandfather, Grandmother, Marcus, Chloe, they all hate that. I almost grin at the thought.

“Leo.”

I look up.

Adam has finally removed one side of his headphones.

“What?”

“Is the breakfast story actually true?”

I pause.

“What breakfast story?”

Maya immediately perks up.

“Oh! That one!”

Noah stops chewing.

Even Sophie looks interested.

I already know where this is going.

Adam lowers his tablet.

“Grandma Elise said Mom nearly destroyed the Kingston merger because someone wouldn't give her breakfast.”

Silence.

Four pairs of eyes slowly turn toward Mom.

Mom calmly spreads butter over another piece of toast. She gives them an innocent little nod of all things, with an endearing little smile to boot.

I can only sigh and give them a nod too.

“So it DID happen!” Maya says.

“Yes.”

It certainly happened. I can still remember the bloody day, cheering over her win. It was brutal. It was wonderful.

“Mom beat someone with a candlestick over toast?”

 

“It wasn't toast.”

“What was it?”

“There wasn't any breakfast.”

“That makes it worse!”

“Yes, it does!”

Sophie gasps.

“Mommy beat someone because she was hungry?”

Mom nods again.

“Yes.”

Then, she takes another bite of her toast.

I choke on my coffee, laughing.

Sophie grins at the answer.

“Food is important.”

"Hey," Maya says suddenly, her eyes narrowing as she looks back down at the table. "Where did the rest of the chocolate cake go?"

We all look down.

While we were distracted by the history lesson, the box had been completely emptied.

I look at the end of the table. Noah is innocence personified, carefully cleaning a smudge of chocolate frosting off his fingers with a napkin, while Adam has already put his headphones back on, staring blankly at his screen as if he hadn't just moved with lightning speed.

I can't help but chuckle. The Vanes spent decades trying to protect a single, fragile bloodline, terrified of losing their legacy to outsiders. Yet here we are, a perfectly diversified portfolio of brilliant, chaotic, cake-stealing siblings, completely running their empire from our breakfast table.

--- Story ends --- 

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[WattPad] Bayu The Story Butcher (23 Sept 2026, UTC+8, 10 PM)

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Extra Notes:
The original story is nothing but torture porn. And I feel like the original MC was actually just as sadistic as everyone else, even though the writer tried to paint her as the unlucky victim. If 'unlucky' means severely lacking in the brain department... then, yeah, that's true, I guess. Otherwise...

Anyway, I rewrote everything so the new MC is actually a decent person. She's only violent if she's provoked by a wild creature.