How the Ice King Became my Doting Billionaire Husband

"Wow, she handles those fish easier than some grown men I know," said Mr. White as he watched Morwenna skillfully prepare the fish at their bustling market stall. Mrs. White held her tongue and took a break from her usual nitpicking.

The morning rush at the market was always good for business. With an apron around her waist, Morwenna chopped fish with rhythmic precision, the sound echoing through the crowded space. Known for his gentle and easygoing nature, Mr. White was well-liked, but Mrs. White had a hot temper, especially with Morwenna.

Despite the criticism, Morwenna didn’t mind. It was her first job in the city, and she believed it was an opportunity to improve if someone pointed out her flaws. But at that moment, Mrs. White was very irritable.

“Morwenna, try not to splash water all over the floor when gutting the fish. Do you want to turn this place into a skating rink?” she snapped.

“And remember, always try to sell the dying fish first. It’ll come out of your paycheck if they die before they get sold!”

As the day wore on and the clock struck six, Morwenna was ready to call it a day, but Mrs. White gave her one more task. “Morwenna, clean up all the guts before you leave,” she ordered bluntly.

Morwenna nodded obediently. “Oh, okay.”

The neighboring shop owner, who sold roasted chicken, could no longer sit idly by. “Mr. White, won’t you stand up for the girl? She’s sweet, but you can’t let your wife bully her like that.”

Mr. White’s face turned red from embarrassment.

Upon hearing that, Mrs. White retorted sharply, “Mind your own business, you nosy parker! Why don’t you clean it up if you’re so concerned about her?”

The chicken vendor shot back, “You harsh old bat, you have children of your own, and how can you treat a young girl like this? Aren’t you ashamed?”

Morwenna intervened quickly as the argument heated up. “It’s okay. I can handle it. I’ll get it done in no time.”

The chicken vendor frowned. “Don’t you have a spine? Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?”

Morwenna smiled. It wasn’t that she didn’t have a temper. She had learned early on that sometimes, it wasn’t her place to show it.

Morwenna had been on her own since she was five. Other children could afford tantrums and mischief, but not her. Her mother had passed away, and her father had disappeared. She had to work hard to survive, so she had grown used to meeting the world with a smile.

Morwenna headed home after quickly cleaning up the mess and helping the neighboring shop by wiping down some stray grease.

A week passed smoothly, and Morwenna enjoyed her work. Most customers were elderly locals who liked to shop early, so it quieted down by mid-morning, giving her time to tidy up. Even Mrs. White, critical as she was, found little to complain about.

On her way out one evening, Mrs. White tossed a fish at her, saying coldly, “This one’s dying. Dead fish aren’t worth much. Take it if you want, or throw it away.”

Morwenna looked at the fish, whose tail was still flicking. She was puzzled by Mrs. White’s demeanor.

Feeling uncomfortable under Morwenna's gaze, Mrs. White snapped, “Just go home when you’re done. There’s no dinner for you here.” Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

Morwenna's heart pinched a little. She had been surviving on bread and water for lunch, having only a meager budget left after paying for her rent and bus fare. She couldn’t afford meat or other luxuries, subsisting instead on homemade bread.

Mrs. White had seen it all. The fish wasn’t a discarded item but her way of offering help.