Chapter 106 - 0106: Did You Just Hit Me?

Chapter 106: Chapter 0106: Did You Just Hit Me?

Lillian’s Point Of View

The heavy slam of the bedroom door above echoed through the cavernous foyer like a gunshot, the sound reverberating off the marble until it seemed to shake the very chandeliers.

Graham was gone.

He had left me standing at the foot of the grand marble staircase like I was nothing more than an inconvenient shadow, a problem to be dealt with later, if at all. My pulse hammered violently in my ears, my hands restless, twitching as I pressed them firmly against my rounded belly, seeking some kind of comfort in the small life beneath my palms.

I paced back and forth across the polished floor, my heels clicking in a frantic, uneven rhythm, my thoughts spiraling out of control, tangling into knots I couldn’t loosen.

Every time I tried to steady my breathing, another wave of panic crashed through me, stealing whatever calm I’d managed to scrape together.

This is bad. This is so damn bad.

I couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever. Especially not to her. Elena was the ghost that haunted every gilded corner of this house, the invisible, suffocating presence that made my skin crawl with envy no matter how many rooms I claimed as my own.

Graham might swear I was the only woman he wanted; he might crawl into my bed when the lights were off and whisper promises against my throat, but I knew... God, I knew deep in my bones, that Elena still held a tight, silent leash on him. Her name alone could turn his eyes to ice, could stop him mid-sentence, could make him distant in ways I couldn’t touch or fix no matter how hard I tried.

I had seen it happen more times than I cared to admit, that flicker of guilt or longing that crossed his face whenever she entered a room, and each time it happened, something inside me curdled with a bitterness I couldn’t name. I used to tell myself it would fade, that time and the baby growing inside me would erase whatever hold she still had on him.

But some nights, lying awake in the dark beside him, I wondered if I was only fooling myself, if I had simply become another ghost haunting this house alongside her.

I dug my manicured nails deep into my palm, letting the sharp sting ground me, anchor me to something solid when everything else felt like it was slipping through my fingers. The pain felt almost like relief, a small, controllable hurt in a situation I couldn’t control at all. I pressed harder, welcoming the ache, needing something... anything, to drown out the fear clawing up my throat.

"No. I won’t let her win," I whispered into the quiet hall, my chest heaving. "I won’t lose Graham to that lifeless, spineless little doll."

The heavy iron front door clicked open, snapping me out of my internal storm. My eyes darted up, and the moment I saw her step over the threshold, every nerve in my body lit on fire.

Elena.

Her very presence was like cold poison poured down my throat. She walked in wearing an expensive tailored trench coat over her crumpled emerald gala dress, carrying that detached, bored expression as if she owned the very air in the room... as if she hadn’t a single care for the storm she’d just walked into. Disgust crawled up my spine.

My lip curled in raw contempt before I could even stop myself. I hated how effortless she looked, even disheveled, even after whatever night she’d clearly had. It wasn’t fair that a woman so cold could still command a room simply by existing in it.

I searched her face for any sign of exhaustion, any crack in that maddening composure, but found nothing, only that same infuriating stillness she always wore like armor.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I spat, my voice sharp enough to slice through the quiet.

Elena stopped. She gave me one slow, agonizingly dismissive glance, her eyes completely flat, utterly dead, as if looking at a piece of dirt on her shoe. She didn’t even dignify me with a verbal answer. She just turned her head, pulled off her rain-slicked gloves, finger by finger, with maddening precision, and began walking toward the stairs, each movement precise, unbothered, maddeningly composed.

That absolute disrespect made my blood instantly boil over.

I darted forward, placing my body directly in front of her path, blocking the first step. "I asked you a damn question!" I snapped, my voice rising, practically dripping with venom.

Finally, Elena stopped. She looked at me properly, her dark eyes hollow, cold, and entirely devoid of fear. When her mouth opened, her voice came out like a jagged blade dipped in icy sarcasm.

"I knew you were stupid, Lilian, but you really shouldn’t have to make it this damn obvious."

The breath caught violently in my throat. My eyes widened in shock, then narrowed into tight, furious slits. "What did you just say to me?" I hissed, my body trembling with a sudden, dangerous rage.

Elena didn’t flinch. She didn’t even step back. Her stillness only made my fury burn hotter, a fire that fed on her calm the way oxygen feeds a flame. I wanted her to scream, to cry, to do anything but stand there looking at me like I was some minor inconvenience she’d forgotten to deal with earlier.

I wanted, more than anything, to see her unravel the way I felt myself unraveling with every passing second.

"You..." I jabbed a shaking finger inches from her pale face, my voice rising to a screech. "You have no self-respect! None! Who the hell do you think you are, walking into this house with that pathetic, fake composure? Look at you! You’re embarrassing!"

Elena’s voice remained unnaturally calm, clipped, and brutally cruel. "This is my house."

That was the absolute limit. I burst out laughing, a sharp, shrill, ugly sound that bounced off the high ceilings. I tilted my head, mocking her with a sneer that twisted my face.

"Your house? Oh please, spare me! This stopped being your house the exact day I moved into the master suite! Look at yourself, Elena! You’re pathetic. A hollow, broken little shell of a woman. No wonder Graham can’t stand the sight of you! No wonder he leaves your bed cold every single night to come warm mine!"

She froze, her jaw tightening, her pale lips parting slightly, and for one brief moment I thought I saw something crack behind her eyes. A flicker of pain, maybe, or something darker. But I didn’t stop. I took a step closer, twisting the knife as deep as it would go, hungry for more of that reaction, desperate to finally see her break the way I’d imagined so many times before. This was the moment I had dreamed about for months, and I intended to savor every second of it.

"It’s only a matter of time before you’re thrown out on the street like the useless trash you are," I spat, leaning into her space. "Everyone in our circle knows it. Everyone talks about it behind your back. They pity you! A barren, defective bitch... that’s all you’ll ever be!"

The acid spilled from my mouth, and I savored the bitter sting I knew those words carried. Elena’s head turned slowly toward me. Her dark gaze sharpened into something terrifyingly focused, her voice dropping into a low, lethal whisper.

"What did you just call me?"

I smiled, a victorious, cruel smile, leaning in until my breath fanned across her cheek. "A barren bitch."

The insult hung in the thick air like a physical dare.

CRACK!

Before my brain could even register the movement, Elena’s hand flew through the air. The sound of her palm connecting hard against my cheek was deafening, echoing off the marble like a thunderclap.

My head snapped violently to the side. The force of the blow made my vision white out for a fraction of a second, a blinding, searing heat blooming across my face while a sharp ring buzzed in my ears. I staggered backward, clutching my stomach, my mouth hanging wide open in utter disbelief.

My hand flew to my burning cheek, feeling the swelling heat beneath my skin, my mind refusing to accept what had just happened.

Elena Sinclair... the quiet, spineless, submissive fool who had swallowed every insult, every humiliation, and every public betrayal without ever lifting her voice, had just slapped me.

For two agonizing seconds, the air was knocked clean out of my lungs. Then the rage hit me. A raw, boiling, hideous fury exploded through my chest, drowning out every rational thought I had left.

"Did you just hit me?!" I shrieked, my voice cracking into a frantic, hysterical scream as tears of humiliation stung my eyes. "You crazy, desperate bitch! You dared to put your filthy hand on me?!"

Elena didn’t back away. In fact, she stepped right back into my space, her posture terrifyingly rigid, her pale face illuminated by a cold, dark fire in her eyes. Her voice trembled with deep-seated fury, but it didn’t crack for a single second.

"And I’ll do it again," Elena growled through her gritted teeth, "if you don’t learn how to keep your foul, pathetic mouth shut in my presence."