The Unwanted Wife's Return (Ex-Husband Wants Me Back) novel Chapter 133

TWENTY HOURS LATER: 

“Wake up, you stupid bitch!” 

Those were the first words I heard, and before I could process them, ice-cold water slammed into my face. The shock of it stole the air from my langs completely. I gasped violently, choking as my body jerked forward on pure/ instinct. My head throbbed like someone had taken a hammer to my skull, and pain exploded behind my eyes a consciousness slammed into me all at once. 

Everything hurts. Everything. 

Laughter echoed through the room, low and mocking and sickeningly familiar. My vision blurred in and out/as I struggled to focus, trying to understand where I was and what was happening to me. 

The room was dim, barely lit by a single bulb that flickered above me like something out of a horror movie, I tried to wipe the water from my face, desperate to see clearly, and that’s when I realized my arms wouldn’t move. 

Panic shot through me instantly. 

I looked down and saw my arms were tied behind the metal chair I was sitting on. The rope was cutting into my wrists so tightly I could already feel numbness spreading through my fingers. My clothes were soaked from the water, clinging uncomfortably to my skin and making me shiver. 

Where was I? How long had I been here? 

I blinked repeatedly, forcing my eyes to focus through the water still dripping down my face. And then I saw her. 

Janet. 

She stood directly in front of me, maybe five feet away. She’d changed since I’d last seen her. Her hair was neatly tied back in a sleek ponytail. Her makeup was flawless, perfectly applied like she was going to a photoshoot. She looked put together, Calm and very satisfied. 

Like she hadn’t just kidnapped me. Like she hadn’t struck me in a parking lot. Like she hadn’t dragged me into a trunk like I was garbage. 

The smile on her face made my stomach turn. 

But she wasn’t alone. 

My mother stood beside her, arms crossed, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read with cold indifference mixed. 

And behind them both, leaning casually against the concrete wall like he was watching some kind of street performance, stood my father. 

She crouched down in front of me until her face was mere inches from mine. Close enough that I could smell her expensive perfume. Close enough to see the absolute cruelty in her eyes. 

“You’re where you belong now,” she whispered, her grin growing even wider. 

Anger surged through me at her words. Before I could think about it, before I could stop myself, I spit at her. The spit barely touched her cheek, but it was enough. 

Her smile vanished instantly. Her hand flew out lightning-fast, striking my face so hard my head snapped violently to the side. A sharp ringing sound filled my ears, and stars exploded across my vision. 

“Don’t,” she hissed, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back so I was forced to look at her. “Ever. Do. That. Again.” 

The pain in my scalp was excruciating, bringing tears to my eyes. 

I looked at my mother, silently begging for her to intervene, to tell Janet to stop, to show even a shred of maternal instinct. 

But she watched without flinching. Not a single muscle in her face moved. She just stood there, arms still crossed, looking at me like I was a stranger. Or worse, like I was nothing.