REVENGE OF THE UGLY WIFE

FEDRIC'S POV

Seven Months Ago - February 27, 2017

Young, handsome, and rich. Who wouldn't want to be in a position like that?

My name is **Fredric Liam Smith**, twenty-six years old. The sentence above pretty much sums up my life, doesn't it?

Women surround me everywhere I go-naturally. I'm not some pathetic fool who wastes his youth at home. I enjoy life, and I have every reason to. Why shouldn't I? I was born into privilege, wealth, and influence. My grandmother owns the largest diamond company in the world, and I already serve as one of its directors. The future is mine.

Today, though, I've got only one thing on my mind-**Paula**.

Ah, Paula... who doesn't know her? One of New York's most famous models-gorgeous, sexy, confident. She's got a body sculpted by heaven itself and a face that makes cameras worship her. I can't wait to make her mine completely.

*Knock... knock...*

A sound came from the door. Without moving, I called out lazily, "Come in."

"Well, what a lovely day. Look at my handsome grandson, still lounging around in bed."

"Grandma?"

Panic jolted through me. I shot upright immediately, almost falling out of bed.

It's not that I'm afraid of her-well, maybe a little. I deeply respect my grandmother. After my mother died ten years ago, she became the only family I truly had.

"Why do you jump up like that every time I come in?" she teased, walking toward me with that elegant grace of hers. "Do I look like some police officer interrogating a criminal? Or maybe I'm just so old and terrifying now, a witch ready to eat your soul?"

Her tone carried mock irritation, though her smile gave her away. I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Come on, Grandma. Beautiful Rosa could never be terrifying," I said, standing and hugging her gently. "Even Gigi Hadid would lose next to you. You're still stunning-and it's 2017, Grandma, don't get so dramatic."

I felt her warmth as she laughed softly in my arms. There was always something maternal about her presence, something I'd missed for most of my life.

"You're just like your father," she murmured after a pause. "He used to say the same things whenever he wanted to charm his way out of trouble."

My smile vanished. My arms fell away. My chest tightened at the mention of *him*.

"Don't compare me to that man," I said, my tone hardening instantly. "You know I hate it when you bring him up."

"Fredric..."

"I'm not like my father. I didn't run away from my family. I didn't abandon anyone! Do you still remember him, Grandma? He hasn't even visited you in twenty-six years! Not once! He disappeared without a trace-no calls, no letters, nothing. And you still talk about him like he deserves forgiveness? You should be ashamed to even say his name."

I turned away, fists clenching. Anger burned through my veins like fire.

I never knew my father. I never even heard his voice. All I knew was that he'd chosen to disappear-to leave me, leave my mother, leave Grandma-all for reasons no one ever understood. He'd left behind the empire that should have been his, the wealth that people would kill for. He abandoned it all.

And I hated him for it.

My grandmother stood silently behind me. I could hear her breathing-slow, heavy, tired. Maybe she still missed him. Maybe, deep down, she still hoped he'd come back.

After a long pause, she whispered, "I'm sorry, Fredric. I didn't mean to hurt you."

I shook my head. "I'm not hurt. I'm angry. And I'll stay angry until the day I meet him. If that ever happens, I swear-I'll punch him straight in the face. Only then, maybe, I'll forgive him."

A soft sigh escaped her lips before she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. Despite everything, I couldn't stay cold toward her.

I turned, hugging her back gently. "I'm sorry, Grandma," I muttered. "I shouldn't yell at you. You don't deserve that."

"It's all right, dear," she said with a small smile. "Now, forget about your father. I actually came here for another reason. I want you to come with me to lunch. We're meeting Goyle and his family. It's their wedding anniversary today."

I raised an eyebrow. That sounded... dull.

But saying no to Rosa wasn't an option. I'd never refused her before, and I wasn't about to start now.

"All right," I sighed. "What time?"

"In an hour," she said, patting my arm before leaving the room.

When the door closed, I fell back onto my bed and grabbed my phone.

*I'll see you later tonight, Paula. I have to go somewhere with Grandma first.*

I sent the text and smirked.

If I had to endure lunch with my grandmother's driver's family, then I deserved a reward afterward-and Paula was the perfect one.

Still, I couldn't help but think of the man we were meeting-**Goyle Brown**, Grandma's loyal driver for decades-and his daughter, **Mathilda**.

Mathilda... the name alone made me cringe.

How unattractive could one person be? I'd soon find out again.

---

Exactly at 11:15 a.m., our car stopped in front of a five-star restaurant. The kind of place Grandma frequented for business meetings and family celebrations.

She stepped out of the car with her usual grace, waving politely at the doorman who hurried to open the entrance.

"Inviting them here, Grandma? You're really spoiling that family," I murmured under my breath.

She smiled, pretending not to hear me. "Goyle has served me faithfully for over twenty years. He deserves my kindness."

Her generosity was admirable-but at times, it annoyed me. She treated that family like royalty.

Maybe I was just jealous.

Goyle had what I never did-a stable home, a loving wife, a daughter who looked at him with respect. Maybe that's why I resented him, just a little. Because I grew up surrounded by riches, yet starved of affection.

When we entered, Goyle was already waiting near the door, standing as straight as a soldier.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Rosa. Mr. Fredric," he greeted with a polite nod. "It's an honor to celebrate our anniversary with you."

Ever the professional. Sometimes I wondered if he even knew how to smile.

My grandmother laughed softly. "Nonsense, Goyle. Fredric and I are the honored ones today. Now sit, let's enjoy the meal."

We took our seats at a round table covered in white linen. Goyle's wife smiled warmly, her hands clasped together.

"Mrs. Rosa, thank you again for your generosity. Mathilda sends her regards," she said cheerfully.

Ah, *there it is.*

I turned my gaze toward the girl sitting beside her parents. Mathilda looked exactly as I remembered-timid, small, hiding behind a curtain of messy reddish curls and oversized glasses that swallowed half her face.

She couldn't even look at me.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh or sigh.

Her clothes were plain-some floral blouse that looked like it belonged to a grandmother. Everything about her screamed awkwardness.

Rosa smiled at her fondly. "Mathilda, you look lovely today. That ponytail suits you-you're like a Barbie doll. Perfect next to Fredric."

I froze.

What did she just say?

I forced a smile, but sarcasm slipped out before I could stop it. "Maybe she should change her style first. Something like Gigi Hadid-or Kendall Jenner."

The table went silent.

Goyle's wife's smile faltered. Goyle cleared his throat. And Mathilda... poor Mathilda lowered her head even further, as if she wished the ground would swallow her whole.

"Fredric," Rosa said sharply. "What my grandson *meant* is that maybe you could try letting your hair down next time, dear. You'd look stunning."

She gave me a pointed look, one eyebrow raised. I knew that look-it meant *behave yourself.*

I shrugged, pretending not to care.

Let her be angry. I didn't care. Because honestly, if Grandma ever truly thought Mathilda could stand beside me, she was delusional.

It would take at least ten plastic surgeries before that girl could even dream of being worthy of me.

Or so I thought.

I had no idea then that the same girl I dismissed that day would one day destroy my world completely.

And that, in the end, *I* would be the one begging for her forgiveness.