Chapter 8
“Iselle, please, let me explain—”
Iselle’s hand trembled violently from the force of her anger, blood speckling the back of her hand. She didn’t care. She reached out to press the nurse’s call button.
“We’re done.‘
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Delphine rushed over and grabbed her hand.
“Iselle, stop! I know you’re jealous of me, that you can’t stand anyone caring about me.
“But you can’t treat Caelen like this. Even if he married into your family, he’s still your husband. How can you not give him any respect?”
A flicker of excitement flashed in Delphine’s eyes as she pulled Iselle’s hand up toward her own face.
“Go ahead, hit me. If you’re angry, take it out on me. Just don’t hit Caelen anymore.”
Iselle could have pulled away, but as she watched Caelen reach out to help Delphine up, she clenched her jaw and let her hand fly, landing a stinging slap across Delphine’s cheek.
Delphine shrieked, her face swelling red almost instantly.
Caelen’s face was tight, but instead of anger, he actually laughed.
“Iselle, it was my fault. Things happened so fast–I got you and Delphine mixed up, you look so much alike. I swear it won’t happen again.”
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But later that day, as the three of them left the hospital in a car, the driver suddenly turned down a narrow alley. A dozen motorcycles swarmed around them, blocking the way. A man in a black suit, wielding an iron rod, yanked open the car door.
Delphine screamed, diving into Caelen’s arms. The man didn’t spare her a glance and dragged Iselle out of the car.
“Don Morven sent me to teach you a lesson. Either you let us slap you 100 times, or I’ll break your husband’s legs.” A few men made a show of holding Caelen back.
He shouted, his face twisted in fury, “Come at me! Leave my wife alone!”
Iselle felt nothing but desolation inside, a wasteland hiding an eruption of rage beneath the surface.
She almost laughed. “Go ahead. Break his legs.”
Everyone froze.
Delphine was the first to scream, “How could you be so cruel! It’s just 100 slaps, it won’t kill you! If Caelen’s legs are broken, who’s going to fix them?”
“Yeah, what’s a man supposed to do without legs?” Iselle’s gaze landed on Caelen’s legs. “I wonder if Don Morven’s legs have ever been broken–if he knows what that feels like.”
Caelen’s struggles faltered.
The man in the suit delivered a vicious slap across Iselle’s face. In the silence of the alley, the sharp crack echoed, louder than the chirping of
insects.
Caelen never tried to stop it.
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Chapter 8
Iselle had never hated anyone so much. She bit her lip until it bled, tasting iron and pain.
All she’d done was slap Delphine–and Delphine had asked for it. Yet Caelen would have her slapped a hundred times, putting on a show of self–sacrifice, pretending he’d do anything for her. It was sickening.
She swore, one day she’d return every ounce of this pain.
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By the time 50 slaps had landed, Iselle’s face was swollen and raw, her skin so tender it bled at the slightest touch. There was hardly a spot left to
hit.
She heard the man in the suit ask for instructions, “Don Morven, should we keep going?”
Caelen just stared at her for a long moment, then subtly signaled with his left hand.
It meant to keep going.
Iselle squeezed her eyes shut. The man’s hand was raised high, but for a long moment, it didn’t fall.
Then a furious shout split the air, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Is there no law anymore?!”
Iselle looked up. Blocking the mouth of the alley wasn’t the police, but a Cadillac Limousine.
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