Chapter 4: Slap, Smile, and Stand Tall

When I pushed open Jason’s private lounge door, Tessa Monroe jumped off his lap in a flash.

She straightened her skirt, cheeks flaming. The room went silent, all eyes on me.

They all stared at me with these weird, unreadable looks.

Some looked guilty, others just defiant. Jason’s gaze was cold and calculating. I met every stare, refusing to flinch.

“Hey, future sister-in-law, here to check up on Jason?”

One of them—probably Chad—grinned, voice dripping with mockery. I ignored him.

“Don’t worry, we’re keeping a close eye on him. Nothing’s going on.”

The sarcasm in his voice made my blood boil. I forced a tight smile, jaw clenched.

Thinking of everything I’d just heard, I slapped Jason across the face. His jaw clenched.

His head snapped to the side. For a moment, the room was frozen. Then his eyes narrowed, jaw tight.

“What are you doing?”

His voice was sharp, tinged with disbelief. I almost laughed at the hypocrisy.

I shook out my hand. “Nothing. There was a fly on your face.”

The lie was obvious, but I didn’t care. I stared him down, daring him to call me out.

Tessa gasped. “Mr. Quinn, does it hurt? I’ll get you some ice.”

She fluttered around him, all concern. I rolled my eyes—almost laughed at the sight.

I slapped her too. “Does it hurt? You can find out for yourself.”

My hand left a red mark on her cheek. She stared at me, stunned, tears welling up.

She covered her face, eyes red. “Whitney, how can you just hit people like that?”

Her voice trembled, outrage and fear mixed together. The others shifted, not sure whose side to take.

“Just hit people?” I stared at her, smiling. “I don’t hit people for no reason. Only scumbags and homewreckers.”

The words landed heavy. Tessa shrank back, eyes darting to Jason for help.

She stomped her foot and whined to Jason. “Mr. Quinn, you have to stand up for me! I can’t just get slapped for nothing.”

Her voice was shrill, almost childish. Jason looked annoyed, more embarrassed than angry.

Jason shoved her aside and took my hand, rubbing it like he cared.

He tried to play the caring fiancé, but his touch made my skin crawl. I yanked my hand away, glaring at him.

“Does it hurt?”

His voice was soft, almost pleading. I ignored the concern in his eyes.

“No.”

My answer was curt, final. I wanted him to feel how little I cared.

I slapped him twice more, right in front of all his brothers. He finally lost his composure.

The second slap was harder than the first. The third left his cheek blazing red. The brothers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure what to do.

“Can’t you save the drama for later? All my brothers are here. Give me a break.”

His voice cracked, pride wounded. I almost laughed at the irony.

So many brothers who’d slept with his fiancée, and he was worried about protecting his image?

The absurdity of it made me want to scream. I shook my head, fighting back bitter laughter.

“You know, Jason, life’s been a little too boring for me, too. I could use some excitement.”

I smiled sweetly, letting the words drip with sarcasm. The brothers snickered, some looking away.

His face darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He glared at me, suspicion in his eyes. I just shrugged, feigning innocence.

I smiled at him. “Nothing. Just talking.”

My tone was light, but my eyes dared him to push further. He didn’t.

On my way out, I slapped each of his brothers across the face.

One by one, I walked past them, my hand connecting with each cheek. Some flinched, others stared at me in shock. None dared hit me back.

“Sorry. If you want to slap me back, take it out on Jason instead. After all, you’re his brothers.”

A challenge. A declaration of war. I held my head high. I wouldn’t let them see me cry.

Jason apologized as he chased after me.

His footsteps echoed in the hallway. He caught up, grabbing my arm, voice low and urgent.

“Whit, what’s gotten into you today? Is it because of Tessa?”

He sounded almost worried, as if he still expected me to play the dutiful fiancée.

“Don’t mind her. It’s just for show. Everyone plays around. If I don’t, I won’t fit in, and then they won’t help me make money.”

He tried to justify everything, painting himself as the victim. I stared at him, incredulous.

“You know my family went bankrupt once. It was hell. Everyone looked down on me. I can’t go through that again. I need these friends—they help me make money.”

His voice was desperate, almost pleading. I felt nothing but disgust.

Ha!

The sound burst out of me, sharp and bitter. He flinched, but I didn’t care.

He remembered his fall from grace, but forgot it was me who pulled him out of the mud.

I watched him, waiting for a flicker of guilt. There was none. Only greed and fear.

I really wanted to kill him right there, but I held back.

My hands shook with the effort. I pictured all the ways I could hurt him, but forced myself to wait. Revenge would be sweeter if I was patient.

I wanted to see him crash and burn.

I imagined him, stripped of everything, begging for mercy. I would be the one to walk away, head held high.

The higher you stand, the harder you fall.

The words echoed in my mind, a promise. I would make sure he remembered them.