The Slap That Satisfies His Ex-Wife's Billionaire Revenge

She didn't ask if I was okay. Instead, she clapped a hand over her mouth in mock surprise.

Then she turned to Daniel, her voice sugary sweet.

"Danny, look at her knees. Since when did things get this wild?"

The glass of milk in my hand froze midway to my lips.

Daniel had been away on business for days. At her words, he glanced up at me.

His eyes were full of disgust.

Two words, cold as ice.

"Just eat."

My chest tightened. I tried to explain.

"I slipped in the bathroom yesterday."

"Enough." Daniel cut me off, irritation dripping from every syllable. "Nobody wants to hear it."

Claire immediately stepped in, playing the innocent peacemaker.

"Danny, don't be so harsh. She just had an accident, that's all. Right, Lillian?"

She winked at me. Her eyes glittered with triumph.

Daniel slammed his chopsticks down with a sharp crack, stood, and walked out of the dining room.

All he left behind was his retreating back.

I stared at the plate of breakfast he hadn't touched. Suddenly, I didn't want to explain anything anymore.

The warmth drained from my heart, degree by degree.

After that, Claire's remarks grew bolder.

In front of relatives and family friends, she'd say things in that half-joking tone of hers.

"Lillian's wonderful, really. It's just... two years of marriage and still no baby."

"Makes you wonder if her attention's been somewhere else entirely."

I'd stay up late making hangover soup for Daniel when he came home from late-night events. Claire always managed to beat me to it, taking the bowl right out of my hands and carrying it to him with a radiant smile.

"You're not feeling well, Lillian. Leave the caretaking to me."

At first, Daniel said nothing.

Then he started looking at me with impatience, as if everything I did was unnecessary.

Eventually, he stopped looking at me at all.

One evening, Daniel lost his temper over a project proposal, shouting at whoever was on the other end of the phone. After he hung up, he sank into the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I was about to go pour him a glass of water.

Claire was already there, a warm glass of milk in hand, settling onto the cushion beside him.

"Danny, have you noticed the way she looks at you? There's nothing genuine in those eyes. Cold. Empty."

"I'm not like that. I actually care about you."

Daniel was quiet for a moment.

Then I watched him lift his hand and, as naturally as breathing, pat Claire on the head.

His voice was low.

"I know."

In that moment, I understood with perfect clarity. It was over.

He believed every word Claire said.

Claire turned around and flashed me a victorious smile.

Nausea churned through my stomach.

For the first time, I felt physically sick.

Family dinners at the Sanchez estate were always Claire's stage.

This time, she set her sights on a red mosquito bite on my neck.

In front of every relative at the table, she pointed at my throat, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

"Oh my, Lillian, what's that on your neck? So red. Sounds like someone had quite the night."

My hand flew to my neck on instinct.

Daniel's expression darkened the second he heard her. He looked at me the way someone looks at something filthy.

A sharp pain lanced through my chest.

Claire saw his reaction and pressed harder.

"Well, I suppose after two years of marriage without managing to produce an heir, a girl's got to find some way to keep a man's attention."

"The real question is... who left that pretty little mark?"

The moment her words landed, the entire table went silent.

Every pair of eyes turned toward me, scrutinizing, probing, picking me apart.