Reluctantly, Anton rose from the sofa and walked toward the front door.
The moment he pulled the door inward, his eyes widened in shock.
Standing on the doorstep was an elegant, middle-aged woman with sunglasses perched on top of her head, standing beside two enormous suitcases.
“Mom?” Anton cried out in surprise.
“What brings you here so early in the morning? And... why did you bring so many suitcases, Mom? Are you going somewhere?”
Instead of immediately answering her son’s barrage of questions, Mrs. Ratih merely flashed a broad, triumphant smile.
Without waiting to be invited in, she pushed her large suitcases past Anton, who stood frozen in the doorway, and strode into the living room with the same commanding air she always displayed.
Mrs. Ratih dropped herself onto the living room’s plush sofa and leaned back with immense satisfaction, as though she had just won a major battle.
“Starting today, I’m going to live here with you, Anton,” Mrs. Ratih announced casually, without a hint of concern.
Anton followed her inside after closing the front door and stared at his mother in confusion.
“Huh? Live here? Why the sudden change, Mom? You should’ve told me a few days ago so I could prepare and tidy up the guest room for you.”
Mrs. Ratih chuckled softly, her laughter brimming with concealed satisfaction.
“Why would I need the guest room? That country girl Mila has already been driven out of this house. Your master bedroom is spacious, or I could use one of the rooms upstairs. From now on, I’ll take care of all your needs, my child. I want to make sure you’re not neglected and can live comfortably before you get married again.”
At the mention of Mila’s name, Anton fell silent for a moment.
The dramatic divorce in front of the grave had only happened yesterday.
Although, logically, he felt he had made the right decision based on his mother’s whispers, a small trace of emptiness and guilt still lingered deep in his heart.
But Mrs. Ratih’s confident presence acted like a wall, hiding those regrets from view.
Anton sat down on the sofa beside his mother.
He leaned forward.
“So... have you already found a woman suitable to replace Mila? To be honest, I’ve already felt overwhelmed and uncomfortable living alone after just one morning. I need a wife who can truly take perfect care of her husband and the house.”
Mrs. Ratih nodded with absolute certainty.
Her eyes sparkled with ambition.
“Of course! In fact, long before you divorced Mila yesterday, I had already set my sights on a candidate who’s guaranteed to be a hundred percent compatible with you. She’s educated, wealthy, and comes from a prominent family. I’m sure the moment you see her, you’ll immediately forget that Mila.”
A faint smile touched Anton’s lips, and his confidence, which had briefly wavered, soared once again.
“All right, Mom. I’ve always trusted your taste and choices. But I need to leave for the office now. I have a division meeting at eight this morning,” Anton said as he rose to his feet.
“Of course, my child. Work hard. Make lots of money for your future wife. Leave everything concerning this house to me,” Mrs. Ratih replied, her voice filled with pride.
Anton shook his mother’s hand and kissed it obediently.
“Thank you so much, Mom.”
After grabbing his car keys and work bag, Anton walked out of the house.
Not long afterward, the roar of his sedan’s engine could be heard receding from the yard as he headed to the branch office of the company where he served as Operations Manager.
Once Anton was gone, the atmosphere inside the house completely became Mrs. Ratih’s domain.
The middle-aged woman rose from the sofa and crossed her arms over her chest as she surveyed the room, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
“Finally...” Mrs. Ratih whispered into the silence.
A sinister smile curved her lips, coated in vivid red lipstick.
“Finally, I can take control of this house and live here after spending so long manipulating Anton into kicking that Mila girl out!” she thought with deep satisfaction.
As she began walking around to inspect every corner of the room, Mrs. Ratih recalled the various schemes she had devised over the past two years.
Ever since Anton first introduced Mila.
An orphaned girl who had grown up in an orphanage and possessed neither wealth nor social status.
Mrs. Ratih had harbored a deep hatred for her from the very beginning.
To her, Mila was a stain on her family tree, one that marred its beauty.
Mrs. Ratih’s primary weapon was exploiting Anton’s obedience and excessive love for her as a single mother.
Whenever even the smallest opportunity arose—a meal with too little salt, clothes that were ironed too late, or Mila’s health during her pregnancy—Mrs. Ratih used it to plant the poison of resentment in Anton’s mind.
And the culmination came yesterday, when Anton’s baby was diagnosed with heart failure and died.
Mrs. Ratih took advantage of that grief to instill the belief that Mila was a woman who brought bad luck and couldn’t protect their offspring.
“Look at you now, Mila,” Mrs. Ratih murmured coldly as she gazed at the living room wall where photographs of Anton were displayed.