Chapter 3

"Rachel, hurry up and make breakfast! If we're late, Oliver will be late for school."

Fiona's impatient urging interrupted my memories. I rolled my eyes and threw the apron on the floor.

"I'm not cooking. Order takeout if you want to eat."

Fiona got agitated and grabbed my arm.

"Mandy always cooked. Why won't you?"

"Are you crazy? Mandy this, Mandy that. Didn't you say she was plain and embarrassing to be seen with? You praised me for being pretty and elegant. Come on, beauty takes work. Let me get my beauty sleep, okay?"

I pushed her away and tried to close the door. Fiona got angry and jabbed her finger at my forehead.

"What kind of daughter-in-law doesn't make breakfast? It's your first day here and you're already trying to slack off. Not respecting your mother-in-law, not taking care of the child - do you have any morals at all?"

Morals? What a joke.

I was already pissed at being woken up so early. I slapped Fiona twice across the face.

"Screw you, I've been the other woman for years. You think I have any morals left?

"Keep bothering my sleep and I'll beat you to death!"

Fiona fell to the ground, stunned by my slaps.

She stared at me in disbelief for a moment before reacting. With a shriek, she leapt up and charged at me, headbutting my stomach.

"How dare you! You vixen, you dare hit your mother-in-law! You ungrateful wretch!"

I immediately grabbed her hair with both hands and yanked hard. Fiona howled in pain.

To maintain my figure, I spent at least an hour weightlifting at the gym every day. I may look slim, but I'm quite strong.

"You talk about manners? You old hag, at the wedding you said you'd treat me like your own daughter. It's only the first day and you're already trying to bully me. Is this how you treat your own child?"

With her hair in my grip, Fiona tried to scratch my face. I kicked her hard in the stomach.

Fiona stumbled back several steps before falling flat on her back. She pounded the floor, wailing.

"Murder! This vixen Rachel is trying to kill me!"

The door across the hall opened. Ten-year-old Oliver rubbed his eyes, looking at us in shock.

"Mom Rachel, why are you fighting?"