But the others were beyond reason. A thousand dollars per slap. The fastest hands had already pocketed ten grand. No one was about to walk away from easy money like this.
"Noel James, what—you sleeping with Athena or something? Guess calling her a shameless slut wasn't far off the mark."
"You don't want the cash? Fine. But don't get in our way. I'm hitting a hundred grand—enough for a new car."
"I'm going for three hundred thousand. That's my down payment right there..."
The slaps kept coming. My eardrums screamed with each blow, a stabbing pain that felt like something had ruptured. The room spun violently. My legs buckled, and I collapsed to my knees.
Noel's warnings had fallen on deaf ears. Only when he pulled out his phone and threatened to call the police did they finally stop.
Fiona sauntered over and lifted my chin with the toe of her stiletto, admiring her handiwork—my battered, unrecognizable face.
"Athena, do you really think you have any dignity left? I wonder what your husband will think when you show up looking like a swollen pig. Think he'll still want you?"
I shoved her foot away. Clinging to one last shred of hope, I grabbed my phone and called Wilfred.
Once. Twice. A dozen times.
Either no answer, or rejected outright.
Fiona watched me with a mocking smile. "Athena, your husband's just like my sugar daddy—never picks up when his wife calls. But me? He answers on the first ring."
She dialed Wilfred on speakerphone.
"Baby, that woman refuses to apologize. Come deal with her yourself."
"On my way, sweetheart."
Seconds later, a text lit up my screen: What's wrong, honey? Swamped at work. Let's talk when I get home.
I stared at those words. Ice flooded my veins. Whatever warmth remained in my heart turned to frost.
Minutes later, footsteps echoed from the doorway.
Wilfred walked in and pulled Fiona into his arms.
"I'm here, baby. Who do I need to teach a lesson? Point her out."
I wiped the blood from my face and met his eyes.
"It's me, husband. How exactly are you planning to teach me a lesson?"
