“Yes,” I said coldly. “That’s because he took my place, slept in my bed and used my things!”
A sharp slap landed across my face. It hurt—not sharply, but a heavy, numbing ache that spread from my cheek to my ear.
“Are you insane?” she shouted, her finger trembling as she pointed at me. “Eric is already sick and you tried to kill him. How did I ever marry such a petty, jealous man like you? If you weren’t still useful to the company, I’d have divorced you already!”
Eric stood beside her, pretending to wince in pain, playing the victim perfectly.
“Calm down, Charlotte. Don’t scold him anymore,” he murmured. “Maybe he just lost it for a second.” He looked up at me, his eyes shone with triumph.
I didn’t say a word. I turned around, went into my room and shut the door. My cheek still burned. Never to my imagination did I think she could hit that hard.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. The air was freezing. When I reached out, the space beside me was empty—Charlotte wasn’t there.
Then I heard soft footsteps in the hallway. I slipped on a robe and quietly followed the sound to the guest room. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling through the gap.