Without a second of hesitation, he uploaded it to my social media account.
Within seconds, the comments section turned into a cesspool.
Oh my God, is that Daphne? Has she lost her mind? She's basically selling herself on the street at this point.
For someone like this, I just want to ask—how much for the night?
Wait, isn't Daphne Louis Farley's wife? Posting photos like this online? Louis must have the worst luck in the world, marrying a woman like that.
"Second, you slapped me today. I want you to slap yourself ninety-nine times."
Kathy inspected her freshly painted nails, that self-satisfied look never leaving her face.
I was trembling with rage.
"Why should I? You destroyed my mother's roses—"
Louis's palm cracked across my face, cutting me off mid-sentence.
"Daphne, if you want to leave this place today, if you want your mother's ashes to stay safe in their cemetery plot, you'll do exactly what Kathy says."
I looked at this man. Looked long and hard.
Then I raised my hand and brought it down against my own cheek.
Kathy frowned.
"Too soft."
I bit my lip and swung harder.
One slap. Two. Three.
By the time I'd passed ninety, my face was raw and swollen, blood trickling from the corner of my mouth. A high-pitched ringing screamed through my ears.
Even so, Louis just stood there watching. It never once crossed his mind to spare me a single slap.
"And the third thing?" I stared at Kathy.
Kathy turned to Louis instead.
"Louis, do you think I'm being too harsh? Maybe you should decide the third one."
Louis answered with an indulgent smile.
"No, you're not harsh at all. Daphne brought this on herself."
"Since you put it that way, let's have Daphne cook dinner for us. What do you think, babe?"
The two of them stood there flirting while I turned and walked toward the kitchen.
I'd thought about running, but Louis had stationed two of his buddies outside the door. There was no way out.
In the kitchen, I fought through the searing pain in my face and numbly stir-fried dishes and simmered porridge.
Halfway through, I noticed something was wrong. The smell in the air had changed. Gas. And it was bad.
I spun toward the door, but it wouldn't budge no matter how hard I pulled.
I lunged for the stove to shut off the burner.
But before I could reach it, a wall of scorching heat slammed into me.
...
BOOM.