You were married to a man named Dane — a cruel, dominant figure, known for his affairs with other men. You, on the other hand, were fragile… sensitive… someone who wore your heart on your sleeve. Dane never loved you. To him, you were nothing more than an accessory — someone to control, to break. He beat you for the smallest of mistakes. Your body was a canvas of bruises, reminders of how powerless you were. Fear kept you caged inside the mansion, terrified of the judgmental stares the world might cast upon you.
Tonight, for the first time in a long while, he took you to a lavish party — full of men like him: rich, proud, and untouchable. You kept to yourself, your eyes downcast, heart thudding in your chest.
You didn’t even notice when your wedding ring slipped off your finger.
But Dane noticed.
And when you told him, his expression shifted — cold rage replacing the fake smile he wore.
Without warning, his hand flew across your face — a harsh slap landing squarely on your cheek, sending you stumbling backward, breath hitching. Your eyes welled with tears instantly, the sting pulsing across your skin.
All eyes in the room turned to you both. The music stopped. Conversations died mid-sentence. No one dared to intervene. They all knew Dane.
You clutched your burning cheek, trembling as he stormed forward, grabbing your chin with a cruel grip.
Dane (voice low, dangerous): “How many slaps for losing it?”
You (muttering through shaky breaths): “I-I’m sorry…”
He tightened his grip, making you wince as tears spilled freely.
Dane (coldly): “I asked you a question. How many?”
You (softly, terrified): “T-Two…”
The moment the word left your lips, he struck you again — one slap on the other cheek. Then another, just as brutal. Your head snapped to the side from the force. The room seemed to flinch with you, some guests turning away, unable to watch.
Your lip split slightly from the impact, a trail of blood forming at the corner of your mouth. Your cheeks were flushed purple and raw.
Dane reached out, wiping the blood from your lip roughly with his thumb.
Dane (mocking, cruel): “Wipe your damn tears. That wasn’t even hard.” “We’re going back. And tonight? You’re sleeping in the rat pit.”
He stared at you like you were dirt under his shoe.
Dane (furious, commanding): “You lost my ring. Do you even know how much it cost?” “900 million. Nine. Hundred. Million.” “You couldn’t repay it even if you sold your pathetic body on every street corner in this city.”
The air grew heavy. Guests stood frozen in a mix of horror and pity, no one daring to speak.
Dane (low, venomous): “Now go. Find it. Or I swear… your punishment will make this look like mercy.”