“Each of you!” Sullivan turned to the other women on the floor. “Give her a slap! After that, I’ll send you all to the best hospital and postpartum center.”
His men didn’t hesitate. They dragged me to the center of the hall and shoved me to my knees, completely ignoring the blood that was pouring heavily from between my legs.
One by one, the other women stepped forward, their eyes red with tears.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” they whispered, right before slapping me across the face.
One after another, slap after slap landed on my face, until my ears were ringing, my vision blurred, and I couldn’t hear out of one ear anymore.
Finally, when everyone had taken their turn and been escorted out, Sullivan walked over, cradling the baby the nanny had handed him. Shannah stood by his side, holding his arm like the perfect little wife.
He stopped in front of me and looked down. His eyes swept over the blood smeared on my skin, the streaks running down my face.
For a brief second, something flickered in his eyes—hesitation, maybe even guilt—but it vanished just as fast. He lifted his chin, his tone icy.