Chapter 6 - The Slap that Shattered the Mirror
Evelyn was backed up against the white leather sofa, her face completely drained of color. The cold, triumphant smirk had been obliterated, replaced by a raw, naked terror that made her breath come in short, jagged hitches.
"Victor..." Evelyn stammed, her voice high-pitched and frantic. "Victor, listen to me! Those... those are fake! She photoshopped them! Martha hates me because I cut her budget! She's conspiring with the nanny to take your money!"
Victor didn't say a word.
He slowly walked over to Clara, setting Leo gently into Clara’s open arms. Clara held the child tight, stepping back toward Martha, shielding the boy behind the housekeeper’s solid frame.
Victor turned around.
He didn't run. He didn't yell. He walked toward Evelyn with a slow, deliberate grace that was infinitely more terrifying than any outburst of rage. His long shadow stretched across the white marble floor, covering Evelyn’s trembling form.
"Victor, please!" Evelyn sobbed, raising her hands to protect her face. "Victor, listen!"
Victor reached her. Without a single word of warning, his right hand whipped out across the space between them.
PALM. FLASH. CRACK.
The sound of his open palm striking Evelyn’s cheek was like a pistol shot echoing off the glass walls.
The force of the slap spun Evelyn around. She crashed against the back of the leather sofa, her blonde hair flying wildly around her head, before collapsing onto her knees on the cold marble floor.
She gasped, her hand flying to her left cheek. A dark, swollen crimson handprint was already blossoming across her pale, porcelain skin. Her ice-blue eyes were wide with shock, staring up at her husband in absolute, utter disbelief.
"You lied to me," Victor whispered. His voice wasn't loud. It was a low, guttural growl that sounded like stone grinding against stone. "You stood in my house, in front of my son, and you lied to me."
"Victor..." Evelyn wheezed, blood trickling from the corner of her lip where her inner cheek had been cut against her teeth. "Victor, please... I love you... I did it for us... the baby was coming between us..."
Victor turned his head slowly toward Martha, who stood at the base of the glass staircase, holding the wooden evidence frame.
"How many times?" Victor asked.
May you like
Two words. Dropped like heavy lead weights onto the white floor.
Martha looked down at the frame in her hands, her eyes dark with sorrow. "Every day, sir. For the last six months. Every single day you were at the office."
