
She Thought I Was a Mere Servant, But I Am the Uncrowned King
godgoust · Completed · 10.7k Words
Introduction
I threw her naked body onto the floor like trash. For three years, I played the pathetic, submissive househusband to my arrogant wife, Emily. I endured their endless humiliation, hiding the fact that I was the billionaire heir and lethal ex-special forces agent keeping their pathetic family alive.
But today, the three-year contract hit zero.
When a rival mafia boss kicked down our door, threatening to massacre everyone, my wife's sister Rhea desperately ripped her dress open, exposing her heavy, bare breasts, begging the boss to fuck her raw right there on the floor if he spared her life.
I’d had enough.
I stepped forward, snapping the necks and shattering the bones of a dozen armed guards, leaving them choking on their own blood. As my fleet of twenty armored Rolls-Royces surrounded the villa, my true identity was finally revealed.
Seeing my unimaginable power, Rhea crawled to my feet, shoving her massive tits against my leg, begging to suck my cock and share my bed with my wife.
I slapped her across her slutty face, tore up the marriage contract, and walked out.
Behind me, Emily collapsed, sobbing hysterically. "If I had just spread my legs for him... if I had just let him breed me and fill my womb with his heir, I would be the queen of the world..."
She's begging for my seed now, but should I lock her in my basement and make her pay for the last three years?
Chapter 1
"James, I only married you because of a promise between our fathers. You don't deserve to touch me." My father accidentally caused the death of his best friend and summoned me home from fighting for the empire on the frontlines.
Before my father died, he made me hide my identity and marry Emily Johnson, his best friend's daughter.
He required me to protect her for at least three years.
Only after three years of marriage could I reclaim my identity as the heir of the Smith Family.
But during these three years, I, the husband in name only, became a servant taking care of Emily.
The Johnson Family treated me like dirt.
"James, go run my bath."
"My dog is hungry, James Smith, go feed my dog."
Even Emily's widowed sister-in-law threw money in my face.
"James, satisfy me tonight and this money is yours."
They never imagined that everything they now have was my charity.
In three days, I'll reclaim my identity as the Smith Family heir.
After I leave, they'll regret it to death.
"James, are you deaf or dead? The pot's about to burn through and you're still spacing out!"
The shrill female voice cut through my thoughts.
I quickly turned off the stove and turned to face Emily's cold eyes filled with disgust.
Her arms were crossed over her chest, her posture superior, as if I wasn't her legal husband but a servant who could be thrown out at any moment.
"Sorry, I was thinking about something."
I grabbed a towel to wipe my hands, my tone calm.
As a former special forces soldier and top agent, emotional control was ingrained in my bones.
If this were a battlefield or some drug lord's basement, that moment of distraction would have gotten me killed ten times over.
But this was the Johnson Villa, and I had only one mission for these three years—atone, and play the role of a loser.
Emily let out a cold laugh, then stepped aside to reveal the man standing behind her.
William Brown.
Emily's "good friend," and also the fly she couldn't shake off.
William wore a suit, deliberately showing off the expensive watch on his wrist.
He looked me up and down, his gaze stopping on my ill-fitting apron and the muscular forearms exposed beneath it, a mocking smile playing at his lips.
"Emily, is this the 'husband' you've been hiding at home? Honestly, looking at those muscles, I thought he'd be tough, but turns out he's spineless."
William sighed and shook his head. "I heard he doesn't even have a real job, just stays home cooking and serving you? Eye-opening, really."
Emily stayed silent, and I didn't argue back, just watched them quietly.
Three years ago, my father accidentally killed his best friend—Emily's father—in an incident.
To protect the struggling Johnson Family and repay this blood debt, my father forced me on his deathbed to retire from the empire's deadliest frontlines, hide my identity, and marry into the Johnson Family to protect Emily for three full years.
Not only that, I used the massive resources of the Smith Family, a capital giant, to secretly funnel support to the Johnson Family, which is why they not only survived these three years but actually thrived.
But in Emily's eyes, all of this seemed to be someone else's achievement.
Hearing Emily's praise, William straightened his back proudly. He stepped forward, standing beside Emily in a protective stance, declaring confidently:
"Emily, you don't need to worry at all. I know those business giants who don't know their place have been eyeing the Johnson Family lately, trying to steal your new project resources."
"But with me here, they won't lay a finger on you."
"The Smith Family backing me will help you just like they have for the past three years, without reservation."
"William, thank you so much."
Emily's eyes instantly misted over with emotion as she opened her arms and hugged William tightly.
"If it weren't for you and your family supporting us these three years, the Johnson Family would have been torn apart by those competitors like hungry wolves. I don't know how to repay you."
Watching the two embrace, I narrowed my eyes slightly.
William's hand initially just patted Emily's back innocently.
But after just two seconds, his hand, covered in expensive hand cream, started sliding downward along Emily's slender waist, trying to reach more sensitive areas.
A greedy, satisfied smirk appeared on his face.
My expression instantly turned cold.
As her husband in name, even if this was all an act, I absolutely wouldn't let this clown put his hands on Emily right in front of me.
I strode over, my right shoulder hitting William's shoulder at a precise, unavoidable angle.
William let out a scream, lost his balance, and fell awkwardly onto the smooth marble floor. His watch hit the table corner hard with a crisp shattering sound.
"Sorry, I didn't expect your watch to be fake."
I looked down at him coldly, my voice emotionless.
"The floor's a bit slippery, probably from cooking oil earlier. You two were blocking my way to get the salt."
Emily immediately screamed and crouched down to help William, checking his injuries.
After confirming William only had a bruised shoulder and no broken bones, she shot up, furiously pointing at my nose, her sharp nails almost poking into my eyes.
"James! Are you blind?! Get on your knees and apologize to William right now!"
Emily's chest heaved violently, anger distorting her features.
"Do you know how important William is to our family? Without him, the Johnson Family would be finished!"
"I really don't know what my father was thinking, forcing me to marry a useless piece of trash like you who can't do anything but cause trouble!"
I looked at Emily coldly, my chest feeling like it was stuffed with wet, swollen cotton, suffocatingly heavy.
Three years, over a thousand days and nights of humiliation, and all I got was her trampling me without limits.
"I can apologize."
I slowly turned my head, my sharp gaze piercing William, who had just stood up with Emily's help.
In that instant, I released the killing intent forged in mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
William's body shuddered violently, his face turning deathly pale.
"But I've always been curious about something."
I took another step closer, my voice low and oppressive.
"Emily, you keep saying he's been helping you these three years, that the Smith Family has been helping you. So I'd like to ask this all-powerful William..."
I paused, a mocking smile on my lips:
"If you're from the Smith Family, why isn't your last name Smith, but Brown?"
The air seemed to freeze in that moment.
Emily froze, clearly never having thought deeply about this logical gap.
She instinctively turned to look at William.
William's eyes showed brief panic, cold sweat instantly forming on his forehead.
But he recovered quickly.
He straightened his disheveled suit, cleared his throat, and defended himself with forced composure.
"James, what would a bottom-feeder like you know about real wealthy families?"
William sneered dismissively. Though his voice was still tight, his confidence grew. "I'm a relative of the Smith Family, understand?"
"Even as just a relative, I'm way above someone like you."
"Plus, my sister is the legal wife of the current CEO of the Smith Group! Because of this special relationship, the Smith Group gives the Johnson Family preferential treatment for my sake!"
William spoke more fluently, as if he'd started believing his own ridiculous lie.
He raised his chin, looking at me smugly: "What? Are you, a servant who serves tea and water, questioning me?"
A wild, cold laugh rose in my chest.
The CEO's legal wife?
The professional manager helping me run the group's daily operations, who follows my every order—he doesn't even have a girlfriend, let alone a wife.
But Emily completely believed William's perfect nonsense.
Her anger turned back to me, looking at me like I was an unreasonable idiot.
"James, what right do you have to question William?"
Emily was furious.
"If William hadn't been mediating, why would the Smith Group, a company with global influence, help the Johnson Family for no reason? Could it be..."
She let out a piercing laugh: "Could it be because of you? Because of you, a house servant who only cooks, cleans, and can't even write a resume? Are you delusional!"
Seeing Emily completely on his side, William regained his earlier arrogance.
He took the opportunity to put his perverted hand back on Emily's shoulder, looking at me provocatively.
"Forget it, Emily."
William shook his head with fake magnanimity, but with a sinister smile. "James is just jealous seeing how close you and I are. After all, as a man living so pathetically, he needs to find some sense of existence."
"We're upper-class people. Why bother with a useless lower-class person? It lowers our status."
I stared at the hand on Emily's shoulder, my knuckles white from clenching.
I didn't explode in anger, just looked at Emily with unprecedented coldness, giving one final warning.
"Emily, I'm your husband. I'll say this one last time—keep your distance from him. He's not a good person. He can't give you anything."
A loud slap echoed through the empty kitchen.
Emily's palm landed hard on my left cheek.
She used so much force that her own wrist trembled slightly.
To me, this force was less than a breeze in training camp, but the crisp sound of the slap completely severed my last bit of patience and sense of duty toward this absurd marriage.
"Who do you think you are?"
Emily pointed at my nose, her eyes red as she cursed. "Don't think that just because you've taken care of me and cooked for me these three years, I have to listen to you and be controlled by you!"
"You're just a useless piece of trash! I'm telling you, the moment this damn three-year contract is up, the first thing I'll do is kick you out and make you beg on the streets!"
With that, Emily didn't look at me again, gently supporting William's arm:
"William, let's go. Don't mind this lunatic. Let's talk about strategies for dealing with those companies. I don't want to smell this disgusting cooking oil at home today."
Before leaving, William turned back to give me a mocking look full of victor's pride, then hypocritically put his arm around Emily's waist as they walked away.
The door closed with a heavy thud, and the entire mansion fell silent.
I stood there, feeling the faint pain on my cheek, slowly wiping away a trace of blood from the corner of my mouth.
I pulled out the specially encrypted black satellite phone from my inner pocket and lit up the screen.
The screen background showed a countdown program, with bright red numbers jumping silently.
[Time until contract ends, permissions unlock, return to Smith Group executive core sequence: 72 hours.]
Three days left.
I took a deep breath, put the phone back in my pocket, took off the oil-stained apron, and tossed it in the trash.
"Three days."
I stared at the bustling East Coast night view through the floor-to-ceiling windows, whispering in a voice only I could hear.
"William, the Johnson Family... are you ready to face me?"
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