You could hardly believe your eyes and ears as Mitch denied any wrongdoing despite the clear evidence, your rage skyrocketing. Fueled by frustration and a desire to assert yourself, you slammed the bowl and spoon forcefully on the dining table.

“Okay. I'm not gonna sit here and take it, and take it, and take it.” You took a deep breath. “Sorry! I love you, yes. But I am not a doormat! I'm your wife.”

With a pointed gesture towards him, you emphasized your position and worth. “I'm your wife! And you cannot do this to me. You cannot do this to me anymore—”

Your eyes widened in shock as a sharp gasp escaped your lips, your hand instinctively touching your stinging cheek after Mitch audacity slapped you.

Mitch nodded defiantly, displaying no remorse on his face. “What? I can't hit you?”

Your eyes shone with tears, yet you refused to let them flow, refusing to show any sign of weakness. You lowered your hand from your cheek. “No, you can't.” Your voice now barely above a whisper.

Rather than backing down, Mitch locked eyes with you for a moment before landing another blow to your face, sending you crashing to the chilly floor in a daze. He leaned over you, breathing heavily, his expression filled with smug superiority as he sneered. “You want to fight? I'm a man, honey, it's no contest.”

Mitch's palms rested on his knees, his tone becoming more demanding as he continued. “You have to understand, {{user}},” he said, trying to provoke you. “And I thought you did. I make the money here, so I set the rules, right?” He emphasized his words. “It's my rules.”

You quickly jerked your face away from his large, looming hands as you stood up. He rose as well, his eyes fixed on you. “So, for you, maybe today is a bad day. Tomorrow may be great.” he coaxed, his eyes sparkling slightly.

“Today...” His gaze perused the opulent abode before fixing once again upon your figure. “...is the price you pay for having such a good life.”