SLAP
2059 Words
The feud between the Rodriguez and the White families was legendary in the upper-class circles of County L. What had started as a bitter quarrel over land between their grandfathers decades ago had spiraled into an unending war. Neither side was willing to submit, and the dispute had eventually been dragged through the cold, impartial halls of the courts.
The Rodriguez family was famous for their high-end production line, most notably the "XAVIS" watch brand—a masterpiece crafted by Xavier himself. They were the titans of luxury, owning a string of exquisite restaurants and five-star hotels.
On the other side were the Whites, known for their massive agricultural empire. They owned the largest tomato plantations in the region and exported their produce globally. They were also renowned for their chain of state-of-the-art hospitals, which were always equipped with the latest medical technology and staffed by top-tier graduates.
But the rivalry took a dark, personal turn two weeks ago.
Xavier's world had shattered when he discovered that his younger sister, Jennie, was in a secret relationship with Zane—the only son of the Rodriguez's biggest enemy. To make matters worse, Jennie hadn't just given Zane her heart; she had given him a weapon.
"What were you thinking, Jennie?!" Xavier's voice roared through the room, the sound of a whiskey glass shattering against the wall punctuating his fury.
Jennie gasped, flinching at the violence of the sound. She stared at the floor, unable to meet her brother's eyes. She knew what she had done was unforgivable.
"Of all the guys you could have chosen to date, it had to be him? Zane? Our biggest enemy!" Xavier paced the room like a wounded predator, his anger erupting in waves.
"I'm sorry, Xavier... I really am!" Jennie sobbed, her voice trembling.
The room felt suffocating as Jennie remained on her knees, her tears soaking into the expensive carpet. Xavier reached out, his hand hovering in the air for a fraction of a second, but he yanked it back before he could touch her. The familiar, bitter guilt burned in his chest; he wanted to pull his sister into a hug and tell her it would be okay, but his body was a cage he couldn't escape.
"Stand up, Jennie," he said, his voice dropping to a low, weary rasp. He looked away, staring at the shattered glass on the floor. "I know... I know you can't exactly choose who you fall for. Love doesn't follow the rules of a family feud."
As Jennie slowly climbed to her feet, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, the harsh overhead lights caught a dark red bruise across her right cheek. Xavier froze. He hadn't noticed it through the chaos of her hair and her sobbing, but now it stood out like a brand.
"What happened to your face?" he asked. His voice was dangerously calm, the kind of quiet that precedes a storm.
Jennie flinched, instinctively turning her head to hide the mark. "It's nothing, Xavier. I just... I tripped. Let me get you some water, you look pale," she stammered, already moving toward the small bar in the corner of the office.
"Jennie!" Xavier's roar was so sudden it made the windows rattle. She jumped, the glass in her hand nearly slipping from her fingers. "Stop lying to me! Who put their hands on you?"
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by Jennie's rough breathing. Finally, she turned back, her shoulders slumped in total defeat.
"It was Zane," she whispered, the name sounding like a curse. Fresh tears tracked down her bruised skin. "He didn't just want the information about your illness, Xavier. He wanted the land. He told me that if I didn't convince you to sign over the disputed territory to the Whites, he would go to Mom and Dad. He'd tell them everything—about us, about how I betrayed the family for him. When I told him I wouldn't do it... he snapped."
Xavier's vision blurred with a dangerous, white-hot rage. He didn't say another word; he simply turned and stormed out of the office, the heavy door slamming behind him with a finality that made the walls tremble.
"Xavier! Stop! Please don't do anything stupid!" Jennie's voice chased him down the hall, in high-pitched, but he was already far gone.
As he reached his car, he fumbled for his phone and dialed Theon. "Find him," Xavier spat into the receiver, his voice trembling with suppressed violence. "I want the exact coordinates of Zane White. Now."
Minutes later, the information came through: Zane had traveled to Oakhaven for a private business deal. Without a second thought for his own safety or the fragile state of his health, Xavier threw the car into gear and roared out of the parking lot.
He never made it to Oakhaven. On a sharp, rain-slicked bend, his reflexes, dulled by anger and his underlying illness betrayed him. The tires lost their grip, and the world spun into a chaotic dream of metal and glass. It was a miracle he survived; if Theon hadn't been following at a distance, Xavier would have bled out on that lonely stretch of road.
For one full week, the world was black. He lay unconscious in a small, remote cabin, treated by a local man who knew more about mountain herbs than modern medicine.
When Xavier finally regained consciousness and returned to the city, he found a different kind of wreckage waiting for him. In his absence, his uncle had seized the reins of the company. Worse, the man had already signed the documents to surrender half of the disputed territory to the Whites.
"You did what?" Xavier roared during his first day back, his body still aching and stiff from the crash. He demanded his uncle step down immediately, but the board of directors stood like a stone wall against him.
"You aren't married, Xavier. You have no heir," the board chairman said, his voice cold and clinical. "And frankly, the rumors about your health, that you can't father a child, have made the investors uneasy. Until you stabilize your personal life, your uncle stays by your side to ensure the Rodriguez legacy doesn't end with you."
Xavier felt trapped, a lion caught in a cage of his own blood and reputation. But then he remembered the woman from the lobby—the only person in years who had touched him without sending his body into a violent, trembling reaction. She was his only way out.
He looked at Emily, standing small but defiant in his office, and realized he didn't just want her help—he needed her existence to reclaim his life.
"Marry me."
The silence in the room was so thick it felt physical. Emily's ears were ringing, a high-pitched hum that made her wonder if her blood pressure had finally hit its limit. Hallucinations. That had to be it. She had read in a medical book back at the province that extreme stress and pregnancy could make the mind play tricks. Maybe she was still in the lobby, passed out on the marble floor, dreaming this entire absurd encounter.
"What?" she whispered, the word barely catching in her throat. She didn't move an inch, her eyes locked on the man before her.
Xavier didn't look like a man who had just cracked a joke. He looked like a man closing a multi-million dollar merger. He reached up, composed and cool, and adjusted the lapels of his black coat, smoothing out a wrinkle that wasn't even there.
"I know what you are," he said, his voice dropping into a tone of forced magnanimity. "You're trans. And I'm willing to accept you like that."
Emily's jaw didn't just drop; she felt her entire world tilt. The disbelief she felt seconds ago vanished, replaced by a wave of pure, unadulterated confusion.
"What?" she repeated, her voice rising this time.
She stared at him, looking for any sign of a flickering smile or a "gotcha" moment. But he just stood there, radiating that same insufferable authority. What the hell is wrong with this man? she thought. First, he was a janitor. Then, he was a CEO. Now, he was a lunatic who seemed to have invented an entire life story for her in the span of an elevator ride.
"Aren't you a man?" Xavier asked, his eyebrows arching with a look of genuine, albeit misguided, curiosity.
"No, I'm not... and do I look like a man to you, Mr. Man?" Emily snapped. She was vibrating with suppressed anger now, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. Every second she spent in this office felt like a second too long. She wanted to vanish—to get out of this building, out of this city, and never set foot near him ever again.
"Oh..." Xavier's reaction was terrifyingly casual, as if she had just corrected him on the weather. "Anyways, marry me. And I'll pay you as much as you want—certainly more than the card you stole just to have a chance to work here."
He didn't even wait for her to process the insult. With the air of a man who had just offered a starving person a feast, he turned and walked deeper into his office. His stride was effortless and brimming with a sickening level of confidence. He didn't need to look back; he was certain she would be tripping over her own feet to accept such an offer.
Emily stood there, absolutely stoned. A sharp, bitter scoff escaped her lips as the reality of the situation set in. He never actually believed her. He didn't save her because he thought she was innocent; he had just plucked her from the guards so he could exercise his own brand of authority over her.
The fury in her gut gave her the strength to push through the door and follow him in.
"I really don't know why exactly you brought me here," she said, her voice shaking but loud. "But I'm telling you again before I leave: I am not a thief. I didn't steal that card. If you think you can rub your help in my face by demanding ridiculous things from me... then I'm leaving. Right now."
Xavier scoffed, a dark, cynical sound that lacked even a hint of warmth. "Don't be stupid," he said, his voice flat. "We both know you're capable of stealing. It's what your kind does, isn't it? Just like what you did to me at the market."
He began to walk toward her, his steps slow and predatory, closing the distance until he was towering over her. "You're always looking for someone to leech off of. I'm offering you a life greater than anything you could ever get by scavenging from others, and you're actually refusing? You know what..." He tilted his head, his eyes cold and devoid of pity. "I should have allowed those guards to take you. Prison is exactly where someone like you belo—"
SLAP.
The sound cracked through the office like a gunshot.
Xavier's head snapped to the side. Emily stood there, her hand stinging, tears of pure humiliation and fury gathering in her eyes. It was one thing to be accused of a crime, but to hear such venomous, hateful words from a man who didn't know the first thing about her—about her struggles or her heart—was too much. Her chest heaved, pumping up and down with a rage so intense it made her dizzy.
Before he could even process the first blow, before he could even turn his face back to look at her—
SLAP.
She struck him again, the force of the second blow even harder than the first.
Emily didn't wait for a reaction. She didn't stay to see the marks on his face or hear whatever insult he would hurl next. She turned on her heel and bolted out of the office, wiping the hot, bitter tears from her eyes with the back of her hand as she disappeared into the hallway.
- Writer
