Chapter Four: A Slap Across the Face
1506 Words
She hadn't eaten all day, and no one had called her down for a meal. Serena stayed quietly in the bedroom, as if it were a safe room. She stood by the window, looking out at the world beyond, her thoughts unreadable.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
"Sister Serena?"
The voice was so sweet it was cloying.
Serena glanced at the door, hesitated, drew a deep breath, and opened it anyway.
Vivian stood in the doorway, wearing an off-white knit dress, her long hair draped over her shoulders, her makeup delicate and understated. Her hand rested on her lower belly, as if the gesture itself had become a weapon.
"I've come to apologise." Vivian stepped inside but didn't sit down. She stood ramrod straight, a glint of tears in her eyes. "I know what I did was wrong, but I truly love Dominic, and... I don't want my baby to grow up without a father."
Serena watched her in silence. Every expression, every movement of this woman seemed rehearsed, and now it all filled her with revulsion.
"How much money do you want?" Serena forced herself to ask through the nausea.
Vivian let out a small laugh.
"Sister, you've misunderstood. I don't want money. I just want a complete family..."
"Shut up," Serena took a step forward, but her gaze was pure disgust. "I'm asking you — as a surrogate fee."
Vivian's face stiffened, like a snake whose tail had been stepped on. Then she shot Serena a venomous look.
Very abruptly.
Vivian took two steps backwards and dropped straight to the floor. Her right hand came up and landed a hard slap across her own left cheek.
A crisp, sharp c***k.
Five finger marks, bright red.
Serena froze for an instant.
"What are you doing?"
Vivian didn't answer. She opened her mouth.
"Ah—!"
A scream tore through the entire manor, as if she were being beaten.
Footsteps pounded up from downstairs at once. Eleanor's high heels clattered urgently against the marble steps.
Vivian sat on the floor, one hand covering her face, the other shielding her belly. Tears poured out as if a floodgate had been opened.
"Ugh... Eleanor... she hit me... she kicked my stomach..."
When Eleanor burst in, what she saw was Vivian on the floor, a clear handprint on her face, her hand clutching her belly, sobbing.
Serena stood three steps away, her mouth open, watching the performance.
"You—"
Eleanor didn't hesitate. She lunged at Serena, one hand seizing a fistful of her hair.
"You want to kill my grandchild!"
Serena's head was yanked violently to one side, a tearing pain shooting across her scalp.
"Eleanor! No— she hit herself!"
A slap came down. Serena's ears rang, the taste of blood spreading in her mouth.
"Don't speak my name. You don't have the right." Eleanor's knee rammed into Serena's leg, the pain forcing her to her knees. "If anything happens to my grandchild, I will make you disappear from this house. Erased."
The housekeeper, Mrs. Collins, rushed over and pulled Eleanor back.
Serena knelt on the floor, blood at the corner of her mouth.
And as Vivian rose from the floor, at an angle Eleanor couldn't see, the corner of her mouth curled upwards.
Only Serena saw it.
An hour later, Vivian was taken to a private hospital. Eleanor accompanied her the whole way, as anxious as a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
Serena was left behind at the manor. She sat on the living room sofa, still wearing the thin knit top from the morning. Her hair was dishevelled, the slap mark on her face had darkened to a deep red, and the cut at the corner of her mouth still throbbed dully. Her leg bore bruises from Eleanor's kick, already turning a bluish-purple.
A fierce light had kindled in her eyes. Her teeth ground with hatred. A devil dwelled within her now, a devil that wanted to kill. Her own mother had never struck her like this, and yet the mother of a cheating man had humiliated her so. In the past, she had endured everything she could. After all, her mother had taught her since childhood to see things from others' perspectives, to better understand people and avoid doing wrong. So she had always believed Eleanor truly wanted her to conceive soon, and that was why she was so strict with her — she had interpreted it as a form of tough love. And now, for the sake of a w***e, she had been beaten without even being asked what happened. In Serena's heart, those three years of forbearance now felt like nothing but her own self-debasement. Three years of swallowing her pride for an old b***h. It was no longer a matter of whether anyone believed her; there were no cameras in the house, and even if she wanted to prove her innocence, she couldn't. One sentence — "who would risk their own child's life just to frame someone?" — and all the blame would be pinned on Serena. But the fire inside her chest kept burning.
She felt an immense sense of grievance. Everything she had strived for was worth less than a woman carrying a bastard child, and now she had been beaten like this.
Dominic arrived at the hospital twenty minutes later. Eleanor's phone call had sent him driving straight from Ashford Group's headquarters in the city centre. As he walked down the VIP ward corridor, his face was ashen.
"What happened?" he asked Eleanor.
"Your wife!" Eleanor's voice was shrill and trembling. "She hit Vivian! She shoved Vivian to the ground! She kicked her in the stomach! She wants to kill your child!"
A muscle in Dominic's temple twitched. He looked towards the examination room door.
"How is she?"
"The doctor is still examining her."
Fifteen minutes later, the doctor emerged.
"Ms. Ashford's various indicators are temporarily stable, but her HCG and progesterone levels are on the low side. Absolute bed rest is recommended, with avoidance of emotional stress and any strenuous activity. She's still in the very early stages of pregnancy, and it's highly unstable."
Eleanor clutched the doctor's hand and wouldn't let go. "My grandchild will be all right, won't he?"
"Close monitoring is required, with follow-ups every two weeks."
Dominic stood by the window, saying nothing.
Serena, hitting someone?
Impossible. I've known her so long; she's not that kind of person.
A voice in his mind said no.
But the injury on Vivian's face was real, and his mother had seen it with her own eyes.
He took out his phone and stared at the screen for a long time.
In the end, he didn't call Serena.
At six in the evening, Dominic brought Vivian back to the manor. Vivian clung to his arm, leaning against him, looking especially frail. Every step she took was very cautious, her other hand constantly protecting her lower belly.
Serena was sitting in the living room. She watched them walk in. Vivian's triumphant gaze swept over her, those tear-filled doe eyes once again donning the label of "victim."
Eleanor followed behind, her voice louder than ever: "Dominic! Throw this woman out today! Now!"
Serena quietly looked at Eleanor, and for the first time felt how filthy and disgusting this old woman was. Then she looked at her cheating husband, and finally at that pregnant woman. She said nothing.
Dominic didn't move either. He looked at Serena. There was a dark red mark on her cheek, clearly from a slap. Who had hit her? His eyes flicked to his mother, but he said nothing.
"Everyone, sit down first." Dominic spoke as calmly as he could, hoping to take control of the situation and get to the bottom of things. He walked up to Serena and looked down at her from his full height. Serena lifted her head and met his grey eyes.
"She hit herself," Serena said. Her voice was hoarse but steady. "I never touched her."
Behind him, Vivian let out a soft, pitiful whimper.
Eleanor raged, "You're still trying to lie your way out!"
"Enough." Dominic's voice rose half a notch. Everyone fell silent.
He crouched down, bringing himself to Serena's eye level.
"Serena." He said her name softly, the way he used to when whispering sweet nothings.
Serena's eyes reddened, not from grievance, but because no one believed her.
"I am telling the truth." She looked into his eyes and replied firmly, word by word. "You can choose not to believe me, but I am not lying."
Dominic looked at her. He had known her for too long. He stood back up.
"Everyone rest tonight. We'll deal with this tomorrow."
He took no side — neither standing with Serena, nor with Vivian. As he walked past Vivian, she looked up at him with her large eyes, but Dominic didn't meet her gaze.
A flicker of panic crossed Vivian's face. She glanced beside her; only Eleanor, supporting her, gave her a sliver of security.
- Writer
