I Left, Mr. Farley Begged Me to Come Back

The Farley family had a rule: any prospective bride had to start from the bottom. Every month, the prospective bride was expected to serve dishes and wait on guests at the family dinner, to learn what hardship felt like.

I endured this for five years, my hands were burned countless times, I was splashed with wine by guests, and I was even forced to kneel on the ground to pick up broken glass.

Today, Clark Farley's childhood love, the woman of his dreams, returned from abroad. The real princess of high society. Old money, polished manners, the whole package.

At the Harvest Gala dinner, she sat at the highest position while I carried a tray past her when she stuck out her foot and tripped me.

I hit the ground hard, soup splashing all across my clothes. Clark stood, scowling at me, like I was a pest beneath his foot. "How can you be so fucking clumsy?! Go change. Don't embarass us."

Corinne Pruitt smiled and offered me a napkin. "Clark, don't blame her. She is trying her her best to fit in."

Clark gazed at her with open admiration. "Corinne, you are poised and elegant. You would make a far better Mrs. Farley than she ever could."

Countles gazes bore through my skull yet I rose quietly before turning around and limping back to the kitchen, soup still soaking through my clothes.

My mother was inside the kitchen, washing the dirty dishes. Her palms callaused and raw due to soaking detergent. I took her hands in mine. "Mom. Let's go home."

I don't want to endure this hopeless love anymore, nor do I want my mother to suffer with me any longer.

Back home, as I stood over the basin scrubbing the soup out of my clothes, fat tears rolled down onto the back of my hands.

Mom brought me a bowl of noodles, smiling as she gently caressed my hair. "Gilly, you've been on your feet all night. You haven't eaten, have you?"

I looked at her hands. They were swollen from hours of dishwashing, the skin at her fingertips cracked open, raw pink flesh showing underneath.

I threw my arms around her, my entire body trembling before uncontrollable sobs crawled up my thrat.

For five long years, I had foolishly shown up at every Farley dinner to serve guests and pour wine, even scrubbing floors clean, all so I could one day be accepted as Clark's bride.

All my mother's birthdays, the death anniversaries of my late family members all passed away in silence, every holiday our family should have spent together was buried under this so called 'duty'.

Mom never once complained. She just ached for me quietly, and took on the dirtiest, hardest work so I wouldn't have to.

I blinked back tears and took a bite of noodles as Mom set a mooncake on the table, broke it in half, and smiled softly.

"It's Thanksgiving Gilly. Finally, just the two of us are spending a holiday together again."

My chest felt like it had been pierced by a thousand needles, the pain so dense it nearly drowned me.

Every holiday for the past five years, I'd been at the Farley estate, hand-rolling dumplings, baking pastries, cooking from scratch, serving each dish respectfully to every guest's place, doing everything I could to please Clark.

And all that time, I had forgotten my mother was alone in the cold back corner of the kitchen, wiping sweat from her brow as she washed mountains of dirty plates.

It was at this moment my phone rang, Clark's voice coming through the speaker:

"Gilly, Corinne got her period. Bring some pads over, and make sure to brew some hot ginger tea."

Afraid that I would refuse, because he quickly added:

"Remember, a Farley bride starts from the bottom. She handles every little thing without complaint. That's the standard so you could grasp the harships faced by people below you in future."

Even without letting him finish I hung up in rage. A cold laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

The last time I'd had my period, the cramps made me dizzy in agony. But Pamela Farley had complained that the house cleaners weren't thorough enough, so Clark told me to get on my hands and knees and scrub the floors inch by inch.

I scrubbed for two solid hours until the pain knocked me unconscious on the tiles. Only then did he panic and rush me to the hospital.

'Starting from the bottom?' It was always the words that he coaxed me with to act as his slave.

At another Farley gathering, he'd had forced me to give massage to all his uncles, one after another.

My finger was still healing from a fracture, but I gritted my teeth and kept going the entire evening, desperate to win the elders' approval.

I'd even used essential oils for a better result. They seeped into the open wound, and the skin around it swelled red and raw with infection.

The uncles praised my technique. Very skilled, they said. Very comfortable.

I exhaled with relief, thinking I'd finally earned their acceptance.

Instead they were merely praising the skilled servant who could serve them more often.

Clark laughed, pleased. Then he turned to me and told me to go heat some water and wash their feet.

When it was over, I finally broke. I told Clark that I was supposed to be his future wife, not his entire family's maid.

He said I was making too big a deal out of it.

My mom brokenly watched my dim eyes for a long moment before encasing me into her protective hold. Her voice was gentle, but there was steel underneath.

"Gilly, you must leave him. You're my baby girl who grew up without lifting a finger for housework, and now look looking at you...It kills me."

I clenched my fists tightly, my nails leaving deep moon scars on my palm.

"Mom, Dad's medical bills. Clark is still paying for them."

"If I give up now, Dad's kidney transplant won't have a chance."

Mom opened a small box. Inside was the family heirloom she treasured more than her own life. Tears streamed down her face, one after another, unstoppable.

"I'd rather sell this than let you suffer one more day."

My eyes burned red again. I squeezed her hand, turned, and walked out the door.

When I walked into the Farley estate, I saw Corinne seductively sitting in Clark's lap without a care.

She had her arms wrapped around his neck, her voice syrupy and coy. She didn't so much as glance in my direction, as if I was a mere maid delivering a package.

Clark noticed my empty hands and frowned.

I walked up to him, my chest tight with bitterness, but I forced myself to stay composed.

"Clark, I'm not your family's servant. We're done."

He stood and yanked me into his arms.

The cold bite of his cedarwood cologne enveloped me. He brushed the loose hair from my forehead.

"Gilly, I never once treated you like a servant. Those are just the Farley family rules for a prospective bride."

"Corinne had a falling out with her family. She just got back to the country and has no one looking after her. I'm only doing what any friend would do."

I wrenched myself out of his arms. The tears I'd been holding back spilled over but this time, I couldn't stop them from falling one after another.

Two years ago, my father was diagnosed with kidney failure. Every day since, he'd been kept alive by dialysis at the hospital. We waited and waited for a transplant spot, but people with connections kept cutting the line. He grew thinner by the week, wasting away until he was barely recognizable.

In all my years with Clark, aside from his help covering my father's medical bills, I had never accepted a single gift or dollar from him.

Even when I accompanied him to important events, I turned down the designer gowns he sent over and spent months of my own salary renting a dress instead, terrified the Farleys would brand me a gold digger.

But for my father's transplant, I swallowed my pride and for the first time in all our years of togetherness begged him for help.

And yet, he merely sighed before pulling me in his embrace- 'I cannot abuse my family's influence like that Gilly, your father can get a kidney when it's his chance. Don't be selfish, you must think of other lives as well."

And then there was the incident a few months ago, when I fell down the stairs at a gala while carrying plates. Shattered porcelain sliced my forearm open to the bone, blood pouring everywhere.

He knew the best plastic surgeons in the city but didn't care enough to make a single call for me.

I was left with an ugly, jagged scar on my arm. All he said was that long sleeves would cover it.

So that was how it worked for Clark Farley. Helping Corinne was doing his duty. Everything about me was irrelevant.

I wiped my eyes and turned to leave.

The doorbell rang. Corinne got up to answer it and came back leading a girl by the hand, beaming.

"Gilly, don't rush off! Today's my cousin's graduation. Let's all have dinner to celebrate."

I looked up at the girl's face and froze where I stood.

"This is your cousin?"

Clark grabbed for my arm, trying to pull me away, but Corinne cut him off.

She pressed herself against Clark's side, and the words that left her mouth coiled around me like a snake.

"My cousin Maura Pruitt graduated top of her class. Her thesis was published in a prestigious journal, and she's already received offers from several major international firms. The sky's the limit for her."

My eyes burned red. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted copper, my whole body shaking.

I wanted to lunge at that girl and tear her face apart.

A year ago, my graduation thesis had been plagiarized and published in an academic journal under someone else's name. The moment I found out, I exposed the plagiarist on the university forum, reported it to my professors, and emailed the journal directly.

But public opinion turned against me completely. Not only did I fail to reclaim what was mine, I was accused of being the plagiarist, charged with defamation, held in custody for fifteen days, and then expelled.

All I'd heard at the time was that some powerful young man named Farley had pulled strings.

I never imagined that girl was Corinne's cousin.

Which meant there was no question. Clark had done it for Corinne. He had personally destroyed the degree and the recognition that belonged to me.

Revulsion and fury hit me at the same time, rushing to my head until the room tilted and I could barely stand.

I shoved Clark's hand away and screamed with everything I had:

"Clark Farley, you make me sick! We are done. For good!"

I spun around and bolted toward the villas front door, when my should merely touched Corinne.

She let out a startled cry, stumbled back a few steps, and collapsed onto the ground.

Clark seized my wrist, his dark, brooding eyes locking onto mine in rage

"Gillian Fox! How long are you going to keep this up!"

Behind me, Corinne let out a cry of pain, tears rolling down her cheeks like pearls.

Clark rushed over and pulled her into his arms, his eyes full of nothing but concern for her.

"Gillian, you actually put your hands on someone? Is this how a future Farley wife behaves?"

A flash of jealous hatred crossed Corinne's face at those words, but she kept crying, all delicate and pitiful, and lifted her head with practiced fragility.

"Gilly, I'm sorry. I just wanted to share the joy of my cousin's graduation with you. And I'd heard your cooking was wonderful, so I wanted to try it for myself. I never meant to upset you."

I let out a cold, contemptuous laugh and looked at Clark.

"Are you two done with the performance? Can I leave now?"

Clark frowned, his tone sharp with displeasure.

"Where are you rushing off to? I'll let it slide that you hurt Corinne. Stay and prepare dinner for us, and I'll forgive you."

Maura walked over, her expression hovering between a smirk and a sneer. "She's right, you know. Someone who got expelled from school is only fit to sweep floors and cook meals."

My vision went red. I glared at her, every muscle in my body coiled tight.

Corinne stepped in front of her cousin, her face a mask of false sympathy. "Maura, don't say that. Gilly has worked herself to the bone for the Farley family all these years. It hasn't been easy for her."

Clark nodded approvingly at Corinne, then turned to me with undisguised impatience.

"Gillian, I wish you'd learn a thing or two from Corinne. Stop making everything into a fight and putting me in an impossible position."

My heart plummeted. Corinne had planned this from the very beginning.

She had used the thing that cut me deepest to provoke me, to make me lose my composure in front of everyone.

Clark waved his hand, and a second later, the bodyguards seized me and marched me into the kitchen.

Before long, Corinne followed me in, a smile on her face.

"Gilly, let me help you."

Clark wrapped an arm around her waist, his voice low and tender.

"Corinne, don't bother with this kind of rough work. You'll hurt your hands."

The moment those words fell, my chest tightened painfully as if my lungs were squuezed shut.

Every winter, it was I who did all the back breaking work in the freezing kitchen. The cold water seeping through my palms burned it until frostbite covered every inch of my once delicate skin, itching so badly I couldn't sleep

Clark used to hold my hands in his and breathe warm air over them.

"Baby once you marry into the family, I promise you won't have to suffer like this anymore."

I lowered my head, swallowing the tears back threatening to spill, my voice barely spoke, stripped of all warmth.

"If Miss Pruitt wants to help so badly, let her. I am done serving the Farley family."

Clark stared at my face, his smile unreadable.

"Corinne was right about you. You can't handle even a little hardship."

"I'm the one who had her invite you here to cook tonight. If everyone's satisfied with what you make, I'll tell my mother right away that I want to marry you."

I stood there, speechless, the absurdity of it washing over me. Five years of devotion, reduced to this.

I had waited on his family's elders day and night while he took Corinne around the world.

I had chopped vegetables and scrubbed dishes in the dead of winter while he sat at the head table with Corinne, eating and laughing.

And now he said I couldn't handle hardship. Everything I had given was nothing but a joke.

Corinne watched the color drain from my face, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes.

She walked over to me and picked up a pastry I had just finished making.

"It's a day for celebrating. Let's all calm down."

She took a bite while it was still warm.

The next second, she shrieked. The plate slipped from her hands and shattered at my feet.

"Gillian! You knew I'm allergic to peanuts!"

"Even if you're angry at me, you didn't have to make peanut pastry just to hurt me!"

Shards of porcelain sliced into my shins and the tops of my feet. Blood ran freely down my skin.

My eyes went wide.

"I didn't know..."

A hand clamped around my wrist like an iron vise. Clark's grip was so brutal it felt like he was crushing the bones beneath the skin.

"Gillian, how dare you!"

"Attacking Corinne, right in front of me, again and again!"

Corinne crumpled to the floor in an exaggerated show of distress. He flung me aside to get to her, and the back of my skull cracked against the sharp corner of a cabinet. Blood dribbled down my head as the agonizing pain drilled in center of my head making me dizzy.

Clark turned back to look at me, his eyes bloodshot.

"You're vicious. Don't blame me for being heartless."

In that case, Ill make sure you get a taste of what it feels like to have the one you cherish most be hurt!

Immediately, my body stiffened, and a foreboding thought shot through my mind.

He cast a cold glance at me, then placed a call to the hospital.

"Gilly, If you had behaved yourself today and not caused any trouble, I could have had the hospital give todays kidney donor to your father!"

I threw myself at his feet, desperately clutching at his boots for mercy.

"It was my fault! I'm sorry! I'll apologize to Miss Pruitt right now. I'll get on my knees for her!"

"My dad can't hold on much longer. He's waited so long. Please..."

Clark's hand paused mid-motion.

But Corinne suddenly started gasping for air, looking like she might faint at any second.

"Clark, I'm fine... I just have a weak constitution. It's not her fault."

Maura caught her by the arm and burst into crocodile tears.

"Corinne, the last time you had an allergic reaction you nearly died! She's trying to kill you!"

Clark's brow knotted tight. He stepped back, his tone final.

"What you did today was beyond unacceptable. If you don't face consequences, you are never going to learn!"

He picked up the phone. His voice was ice.

"Cancel the kidney transplant for Gillian Fox's father. No rescheduling for three months."

Those words landed on me like a death sentence. I crumpled to the floor, numb, remembering how he'd finally agreed to help find a kidney donor for my father, how he'd called hospital after hospital on our behalf.

He'd wrapped his arm around my shoulders and whispered reassurances in my ear.

He'd said that once Dad recovered, he'd take our whole family to New Zealand, buy a ranch, and let my parents spend their golden years somewhere sunny and peaceful.

And he'd propose to me in the most beautiful place in the world.

All lies. Every last word. He'd just been stringing me along.

I was locked in the Farley family's basement, thrown into filthy standing water.

My claustrophobia hit full force. I couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop the tears and snot streaming down my face.

I was on the edge of losing consciousness when the iron door opened.

I stumbled out in a daze and found the living room TV on. Corinne Pruitt's smiling face filled the screen.

She and Clark sat shoulder to shoulder, practically fused together.

Hanging from her earlobes were the Farley family heirloom earrings, the ones reserved only for the family's bride. In her hands she held up a document.

"Thank you to Clark for giving me thirty percent of Farley Group shares as an engagement gift. I couldn't be happier."

"We're planning to see the Northern Lights in Norway and have a simple destination wedding. Nothing too extravagant."

Clark tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his face soft with adoration.

I opened my phone. Messages flooded in like a tidal wave.

Friends. Former classmates. Strangers on the internet.

Every single one of them asking me the same thing, barely hiding their laughter.

Mocking me for being the Farley family's unpaid maid for five years, only to be kicked to the curb.

Saying the Farleys' so-called standards for choosing a bride had been a joke from the start, a game played at my expense, and now Corinne got to marry in without lifting a finger.

Saying I was delusional. An ugly duckling who thought she could become a swan, who believed a little suffering would buy her a seat at the table.

The insults and ridicule hit like stones against my face. I was the real clown, a fool who'd spent five years of her youth performing in her own pathetic circus.

My phone rang. Clark's voice came through casual, almost careless like it was even a hassle to inform me.

"Corinne said she needed to put on a show for her family. I was just playing along."

"Once things smooth over with her parents, we'll go to New Zealand and get married."

I hung up without a word. The memories of past sliced through my flesh as if my entir heart was peeled raw.

Clark Farley, did you ever once stop to think about what I've endured? What made you so sure that every time you looked back, I'd still be standing there behind you?

The moment I stepped through the Farley estate's front gate, I saw my mother running toward me with a bankbook clutched in her hand, her eyes red and swollen.

She saw how pale I was and pulled me right into her arms so tight it hurt. Her voice shook hard.

"Gilly, my baby girl. You've suffered enough."

"I sold the family heirloom. We have the money now. Come with me. We're leaving."

I wiped my tears and nodded, firm.

We went straight to the hospital, arranged an overseas transfer immeditely before booking the next available flight.

As the plane climbed into the sky. I finally leaned against my mother's shoulder, holding my father's thin hand in releif before snapping my SIM card in half.

Clark Farley, this is where it ends. I wont hold on to even the slightest attachment to you anymore, nor will I keep any love for you. I hope, for the rest of this life, we never meet again.