His Neglected Wife Turns the Tables

Before either of them could react—Solana's hand whipped across Imogen's face with a sharp, ringing crack.

"Solana!"

Wilbert's pupils constricted.He hurriedly pulled Imogen behind him, shielding her. His eyes when he glared at Solana were cold—terrifying.

"Are you insane?!"

He barely finished the sentence before—

Smack!

Solana swung again, this time landing the slap squarely on his cheek. Her beautiful eyes glimmered with frigid resolve.

"You two—neither of you will get away with this!"

With that, she grabbed her bag and walked off without looking back.

She had loved wholeheartedly; now she could let go just as cleanly.

A heart that would never warm—she no longer wanted it. A man stained beyond saving—she didn't want him either.

That night, Solana dialed her father.

"Dad... I want a divorce. I want to go abroad and stay with you."

Hearing her words, Joel froze. Then, realizing what must have happened, his voice soared in panic and rage.

"Sweetheart, why suddenly? Did Wilbert hurt you?!"

Solana opened her mouth to deny it—yet found she didn't even have the strength to speak.

Her silence said everything.

Joel's fury erupted; a teacup shattered between his fingers. "That bastard! How dare he treat my daughter like this! Don't worry—your father won't let him off easily!"

"Fortunately, I left a clause in your prenup back then. No matter whose fault it is, once you divorce, the Patel family must transfer 50% of their shares to you! If he doesn't die from it, he'll shed half his skin!"

Solana didn't want to cry, yet her eyes burned uncontrollably. "Thank you, Dad..."

"No need for thanks. But I can't leave my project right now—I'll send your mother back to bring you home."

After the call, Solana stepped toward the elevator.

The moment she entered, a violent crash shook the entire shaft.

A sickening drop wrenched her body upward—the elevator plummeted. She slammed into the wall as agony tore through her spine.

The sealed darkness pressed in on her. Sweat drenched her clothes as her body trembled uncontrollably.

Her claustrophobia clawed at her sanity. Every second inside felt like slow, vivid hell.

Just as she was about to lose consciousness—the doors were kicked open.

Wilbert stood there.

Solana's hopeless heart sparked with desperate instinct. She reached out a trembling hand.

"Help me..."

He said nothing. He walked toward her with measured steps.

But the moment his hand touched hers—

Crack!

He twisted her wrist sharply. His deep eyes were colder than midnight steel. "Solana, these hands need to learn a lesson."

"Don't touch people you shouldn't."

Her face went ghost-pale. Pain stole her breath, yet she bit back any plea.

"She deserved it," Solana choked out. "I'll slap her every time I see her—ah!"

Crack!

Her other wrist snapped. Her scream tore through the shaft. She collapsed to the floor, curling in sheer agony.

Wilbert stepped forward and seized her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

"Next time, I won't stop at breaking your hands."

Then he turned and walked out, without a shred of hesitation.

As the elevator doors slid shut again, Solana stared at the darkening gap, then at her mangled wrists. Her tears broke free and fell uncontrollably.

Five years... Five whole years. And this was the first time Wilbert had ever stepped into their marital home—only to defend another woman.

How utterly pathetic.

...

A week later, Solana was finally released. Only because the Patel family's monthly banquet required her attendance.

Seeing her ghastly pale face, Wilbert's breath hitched—an unfamiliar, tangled emotion coiling faintly in his chest.

He hurried to catch up with her, his voice stiff.

"I may have gone too far last time." He pulled a gift box from behind him. "The bag you liked before. Consider it compensation."

Solana blinked.

Five years of marriage—this was the first gift he had ever given her.

Once, she would have been ecstatic. But now... her warmth had long been extinguished—in the coldness of his daily neglect, in the sight of him kissing Imogen, in the pain of his hands breaking hers.

She let out a soft, icy laugh and shoved the box back into his arms.

"I don't need it. Take it back."

Then she turned and stepped into the car.

Wilbert stared at his hand hanging uselessly in the air, momentarily stunned. Before he could process it, his phone rang.

Whatever was said on the other end—Solana had never heard such urgency, such panic, in his voice.