My Husband Sacrificed Our Child to Please His Mistress

My face stiffened a little as I stared at Jeremy in disbelief.

“I said it. I didn’t push her.”

“Still refusing to admit it, so this is how your late parents raised you?” Jeremy’s words were harsh, his eyes cold.

His words were like a knife, deeply stabbing into my heart.

My parents passed away in a car crash on my birthday, and it was also that day when I met Jeremy.

I once thought he was a blessing from heaven, comfort sent by my parents’ spirits above.

But the truth gave me a cruel slap across the face.

Seeing that I firmly refused to apologize, Jeremy immediately called the bodyguards. “Slap her until she admits her mistake.”

I struggled to get away, but the bodyguards held my shoulders tightly, making me unable to move. The last bit of hope rose in my heart. “Jeremy, I am your wife, can you… even just once, stand by me?”

“Slap her. Don’t show mercy.”

Without even glancing at me, Jeremy guided Ophelia to the couch and gently examined her injuries.

The harsh palm, driven by strong force, struck my face harshly. My cheek burned with pain, and before I could say anything, many slaps rapidly followed.

After the hundredth slap hit, my vision spun around. I opened my mouth and spoke unclearly. My swollen face could no longer be recognized, and blood ran from the corner of my lips. I spat and coughed out two teeth mixed with blood.

Jeremy’s voice came from a short distance away. “Admit your mistake or not?”

I opened my mouth and stubbornly replied, “I’m not wrong… I didn’t…”

Before I could finish, Jeremy cut me off. “Keep slapping.”

“If she doesn’t admit it, keep slapping.”

The nonstop sound of slapping echoed again. I gritted my teeth hard and stubbornly refused to admit I was wrong. When the ninety-ninth slap landed, my sight went dark, and I passed out.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in the cold, damp guest room.

I struggled to sit up. The wounds on my face had not been treated. I slowly headed to the second floor, planning to go to the bedroom to get the first-aid kit.

But I noticed the door was slightly open, and my hand on the knob suddenly stopped.

From inside came the woman’s soft, breathy gasps and the man’s low, heavy groans, along with the sound of bare bodies hitting together.

Every sound felt like a sharp knife, stabbing deep into my heart, leaving it bloody and torn.

My whole body shook as I pulled my phone from my pocket. My hands trembled so badly that I failed to open the recording several times.

After I finished recording a short video, I quietly turned around and left, and sat on the sofa until dawn.

When Jeremy came down the stairs and saw me, his eyes settled on my badly bruised face. Hesitation appeared in his eyes.

“You’re already an adult, and you don’t even know how to put on medicine?”

Jeremy turned and went to the bedroom to get the first-aid kit. He personally treated my wounds, his brows tightly drawn as he carefully applied medicine to every place.

I stayed still, my whole body stiff as I watched him do everything.

After finishing the treatment, Jeremy spoke in a cool voice with unquestionable authority. “Go cook a bowl of grilled cheese sandwich.”

My fingers shifted slightly as I asked, “Is it you who wants to eat, or Ophelia?”

Since Ophelia came back to the country, Jeremy no longer had the habit of having breakfast at home.

Even though I made breakfast for him in many ways, he ignored it every time and always left quickly, saying, “The company is too busy, I don’t eat first.”

But afterward, I discovered that the “company is busy” he spoke about was really him spending time with Ophelia.

Jeremy stiffened for a moment, obviously not expecting me to ask. His tone suddenly turned cold. “You pushed Ophelia yesterday and still refuse to apologize. What is wrong with cooking a bowl of breakfast today to make it right?”