Chapter 1  
  
  
Everyone in the Upper East Side knew that Hudson Cross had eight mistresses, but no one dared mention his actual wife.  
  
  
And I was that dangerous topic.  
  
  
Just as his ninth little plaything was being welcomed into the house, I was being forced to kneel and serve her coffee.  
  
  
The sweet, innocent-looking girl smiled demurely, but the moment no one was watching, she splashed the scalding coffee across my hand.  
  
  
The liquid hissed and steamed, instantly burning half my wrist bright red.  
  
  
Harrison didn't say a word—just immediately bent down and carefully lifted her wedding pristine dress away from the mess.  
  
  
The next second, his polished leather shoe slammed viciously into my chest, his eyes wild with rage.  
  
  
"This is the eighth fucking time. Haven't you gotten the hint?"  
  
  
"Can't even hold a cup of coffee steady. Might as well chop off those useless hands!"  
  
  
His kick sent me sprawling on the floor, coughing up blood, yet I still bowed my head submissively and apologized.  
  
  
Everyone assumed I'd keep crawling back to Hudson Cross like a pathetic doormat.  
  
  
But then I vanished from his world entirely.  
  
  
The always imperious Hudson Cross—who'd always acted like he owned the damn city—spent the next TEN FUCKING YEARS desperately tearing apart the city looking for me.  
  
  
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Hudson didn't say a word, just stared at me with those dark, threatening eyes.  
  
  
I didn't dare look up, banging my forehead against the floor over and over, not caring that blood streamed down my face.  
  
  
The wedding guests watched like this was just another show.  
  
  
Everyone knew I was Hudson Cross's least favorite woman.  
  
  
In this city, anyone could step on me.  
  
  
"Seraphina, you did this on purpose, didn't you?!"  
  
  
Hudson was built like a tank—a guy who'd fought his way up from the streets.  
  
  
One kick sent my body into spasms. I couldn't straighten up.  
  
  
"You know damn well I can't have blood at my wedding, but you made yourself look like roadkill anyway! Trying to make me look like a joke?!"  
  
  
His crew got fired up, like they wanted to tear me apart.  
  
  
Hudson had come up through the underground, and today's wedding was packed with his old crew.  
  
  
Who would dare laugh at him?  
  
  
But plenty of people had been itching to see me get what was coming...  
  
  
"Since you love kneeling so much, stay right there!"  
  
  
"You get up when the wedding's over. Not a second before."  
  
  
His voice faded as he walked away. When I looked up again, Hudson had already switched back to his charming act, arm around Delilah Sterling—his new woman, smiling like some refined gentleman.  
  
  
Maybe it was just me, but tonight's reception dragged on forever. The drunk guests didn't scatter until well past midnight.  
  
  
When I finally struggled to my feet, exhausted, my legs had gone completely numb from the poor circulation.  
  
  
But I knew Hudson Cross. The man had power, and he had a thousand ways to make people suffer. This punishment was just getting started.  
  
  
Sure enough, a servant from the main house rushed over, rolling her eyes like I was some kind of bad luck charm, acting all high and mighty.  
  
  
"The master just got married today, so get your ass to the bridal suite and serve them!"  
  
  
"If you piss off the new missus, you're gonna regret it!"  
  
  
Hudson Cross had nine wives total, and every time he brought home a new one, he found creative ways to humiliate me.  
  
  
The servant shoved me toward the main house and kicked me down to kneel outside the bedroom door.  
  
  
The door suddenly swung open, and Delilah Sterling was draped all over Hudson, her exposed skin covered in bright red marks.  
  
  
I looked down, lying to myself, while my heart felt like it was being sliced open.  
  
  
Hudson acted like he couldn't see my pathetic state and coldly ordered:  
  
  
"Delilah's delicate. If she gets pregnant, it'll be hell for her. Go buy a couple boxes of Plan B."  
  
  
My throat went dry, like it was weighed down with lead.  
  
  
"I can go, but I'll need money for—"  
  
  
Before I could finish, Delilah cut me off with a mocking laugh.  
  
  
"Oh please, girl. I've seen tons of women try to gold-dig Hudson, but this is pathetic even for you."  
  
  
"Two boxes of Plan B? What's that, like fifty bucks?"  
  
  
"Sweetie, you eat Hudson's food, live in Hudson's mansion—the Cross family's probably dropped millions on you by now. Nickel and diming him over this? That's just tacky."

To My Nine 'Sisters': Let's Bury Our Husband Alive