A sharp slap split my lip open. My head whipped to the side. Another hit followed. Then another. I lost count of how many times Mike’s palm cracked across my face. The sting turned to numbness. I tasted blood and salt and the bitter taste of the soup still clinging to my tongue.
Somewhere through the haze, Nico’s voice cut in. “Apologize to her, Karylle. Get on your knees and apologize for slapping her.”
I laughed. Or maybe I sobbed—I wasn’t sure. “No. I won’t.”
Another slap. Then another. The room spun, the floor rose up to meet me. When I opened my eyes again, the kitchen was empty. My ears rang in the silence.
I dragged myself to my corner, leaning my swollen cheek against the cold cabinet door. The only sound was the buzz of my phone. One ping. Then another.
My eyes focused on the screen, blurry through the tears.
Sasha: “Sweet dreams, darling.”
Attached was a photo. Mike and Sasha at the dining table, smiling wide. Another ping—Sasha’s lips pressed to Mike’s mouth, his hand on her thigh. A family portrait where I didn’t belong.
I pressed delete. Gone. I didn’t even feel the sting anymore.
Another notification buzzed in. This time it was from my lawyer’s office.