Instinctively, I stroked my swollen belly, trying to share warmth with my baby. But the chill had long stolen the heat from my hands.
“Emma Carter, stop putting on that pitiful act.” Daniel’s voice lashed out like a whip.
“Don’t think you can win sympathy with that look. Not from me. Get on your knees, apologize to Vivian, and maybe I’ll let you live.”
I lifted my head, eyes frozen over with cold fury, and spat out two words: “Dream on.”
“You dare!” Fire blazed in Daniel’s eyes. He shouted, “Men!”
Two security guards in suits entered, each carrying a heavy bucket dripping with condensation.
“Make sure she learns her lesson!” Daniel barked.
They seized me—one pinning my arms, the other lifting the bucket—then dumped the icy water straight over my head.
The freezing torrent drenched me, seeping through my thin clothes, pressing against my skin like blocks of ice.
I shuddered violently, nearly suffocating from the cold.
That moment shattered the last trace of hope in my heart.
To him, I was never a wife—only a tool to please Vivian.
Vivian covered her mouth in feigned concern. “Darling, let it go. She’s already like a drowned rat.”