A Humiliating Slap

CLARA'S POV.

Deeply determined to meticulously maintain whatever shred of composure I have left, I slowly walk back to my designated table on incredibly unsteady legs. The chill from my confrontation outside still clings to my skin, but I force myself to breathe steadily. As I scan the warmly lit, opulent dining room, trying to ignore the painful stinging in my eyes, I immediately notice that Camilla is now comfortably seated with several other individuals dressed in sharp, formal wear. A small, rational part of my brain registers that perhaps Roman was actually telling the truth about this being a legitimate business meeting with important clients. But the highly visible, lingering glances they continuously exchange and their deeply intimate body language absolutely convince me that they are vastly more than mere professional colleagues. I can clearly see it in the way she leans into his personal space, the way their eyes lock with undeniable familiarity. I firmly resolve internally to completely ignore their sickening presence for the rest of the evening, but any sense of peace entirely eludes me.

As soon as I physically sit down in my chair, hoping to just blend into the background, Sylvia and her mother eagerly launch back into their absolute favorite pastime: relentlessly antagonizing me.

"Barren, ugly bitch!" Sylvia's voice drips with pure poison as she aggressively taunts me, not caring who hears her cruel words. "I really don't know what my successful brother ever saw in someone like you."

Her words burn into my soul like a red-hot knife, specifically designed to cut deep. She is directly blaming me for the painful lack of children in our marriage, tearing at my deepest insecurities. Unbidden tears spring to my eyes, but I blink them back desperately, refusing to let them fall. It is a deeply unfair accusation, especially considering it is actually entirely her brother's fault that we haven't conceived, but my private life is none of her business. I don't bother to defend myself with the truth.

My mother-in-law, never one to miss an opportunity for cruelty, eagerly piles onto the verbal assault. "Exactly," she loudly accuses, looking down her nose at me with pure disdain. "One would have thought she would have made herself useful by now and at least produced a male heir for the Prescott family line. But no. All she does is selfishly squander Roman’s massive wealth, sitting around the house all day eating everything in sight with absolutely nothing to show for it."

"So tell us," Sylvia maliciously demands, leaning across the table with a wicked glint in her eyes. "When exactly are you finally going to release Roman from his suffocating shackles? When will you let him go so he can swiftly find a real woman who can give my mother the precious grandchildren they so desperately want? You've failed very woefully at that task, just as you've failed at everything else in your life."

The absolute exhaustion of this horrific, soul-crushing day finally shatters the last remaining vestiges of my restraint. Searing anger aggressively bubbles over, replacing my usual submissive silence. My mouth opens of its own accord.

"Maybe you should personally try to grant your mother’s desperate wish for children by giving them to her yourself," I retort aggressively, my voice trembling with a venom I didn't know I possessed. I ruthlessly point out the glaring fact staring us all in the face. "You are significantly older than I am, after all, but you cannot even manage to snag yourself a decent man, not to talk of actually keeping him long enough to get legally married to him and have kids of your own!"

My sudden, venomous outburst causes them both to physically gasp in profound shock. Their eyes widen in absolute disbelief. In all my three years of a highly submissive marriage into this family, I have absolutely never once dared to talk back to either of them.

Instantly horrified by the severity of my own uncharacteristic outburst, my sudden burst of courage completely evaporates. I desperately begin to stammer out a frantic apology. "I... I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me... I shouldn't have..."

But before I can even finish the sentence, Sylvia rises from her chair with the terrifying, blinding speed of a striking snake. Her hand arcs violently through the air, and she delivers a resounding, blisteringly painful slap directly to my face.

The sheer force of the impact snaps my head sideways. My cheek instantly stings as if scalded by boiling water. A deathly, heavy silence immediately falls over the entire restaurant. The clinking of silverware stops, and the soft background music suddenly feels overwhelmingly loud.

I am utterly, fundamentally humiliated. I sit frozen in my seat, acutely and painfully aware of every single patron's stare actively burning into my fiercely stinging cheek. Yet, I possess enough bitter sense to know significantly better than to look toward Roman’s distant table for any form of defense. He has always deeply preferred not to meddle in any affairs specifically relating to me and his toxic family. I know for a fact he won't get involved to protect his own wife.

My mother-in-law leans in, quietly and discreetly scolding Sylvia—not for the violence she just committed, but strictly for causing a highly embarrassing public scene rather than waiting until we got back to the privacy of our home.

Agonizing seconds pass. I keep my gaze glued to my intertwined hands in my lap, too ashamed to meet anyone's eyes. Very slowly, the surrounding patrons begin to resume their meals and quiet chatter. Not a single soul comes over to check on my physical or emotional wellbeing. No one cares.

Entirely unable to endure the deeply suffocating shame of the moment, I abruptly push back my chair and flee blindly toward the restaurant's restroom. A desperate, raw sob violently tears from my tightening throat as I run, eager to just hide my burning face from the world.

But the deeply horrible events of this dreadful night are evidently far from over. I have no way of knowing the nightmare is only getting worse.

There, in the dim, empty confines of the restroom, I stumble directly upon my husband. I didn't even realize he had quietly left his business table. But he is not alone. Right before my tear-filled eyes, Roman is passionately and deeply kissing his beautiful ex-girlfriend, Camilla.