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.

Fenna let out a disdainful snort, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "You don't know how to clean, but can't you tell what I'm doing?"

Taking a deep breath to rein in her frustration, Mila asked calmly, "Why are you cleaning Nate's room?"

Fenna straightened her posture, and her demeanor oozed superiority as she looked down at Mila. "Wanda, I'm Nate's assistant. For the past six months, I've attended to every aspect of his life and work. Unlike you..."

Mila's expression darkened further. "What?" she demanded.

Fenna 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 fetch him a glass of water?

"You can't help him at work nor take care of his daily life. You're utterly useless. All you know is to be jealous and stir up trouble in our friendship." Mila felt a pang in her stomach, gritting her teeth as she took another deep breath.

Since childhood, her upbringing had

taught her that she wasn't destined to be a housewife. Everyone had their strengths and contributions to offer to the family and society.

Mila collected herself and responded, "I am his wife, not his maid. Why should I do the chores meant for a maid?"

Fenna fired back, "Once you married him, these became your responsibilities."

Mila frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Does Norvania have laws that stipulate that a wife must cook, do laundry, serve, and clean?" With disdain etched on her face, Fenna continued scrubbing the table. "I don't understand why Nate would choose you."

Mila felt a twinge of discomfort at Fenna's remark. She couldn't understand why Fenna, who was of her generation in this modern era, would cling to such outdated and rigid beliefs. Contents belong to NovelDrama.Org

She wondered if Fenna was still trapped in the ideology of male domination. Someone with her mindset would willingly be Nathan's mistress. Keeping her emotions in check, Mila spoke up, "Fenna, from now on, you don't have to clean Nate's room. Please leave."

Ignoring Mila's request, Fenna finished cleaning the table and proceeded to the wardrobe.

Observing Fenna's skilled actions, Mila knew this wasn't her first time performing such tasks here.

Mila wondered if other women

would tolerate someone admiring

their husband invading his private space boldly. But she found it deeply unsettling. She felt increasingly uncomfortable and irritated

"Ms. Hudson," Mila snapped, her tone edged with anger. "Don't you understand me?"