Raina looked around the table, nervous.
She had been cooking all day. Her feet hurt, her hands were sore, and her head was spinning from the stress. All she wanted was for the dinner to go well. Her husband Zayn, his family, and his business people were all sitting at the table, eating what she made.
She tried to smile.
"Do you like the food, mother-in-law?" she asked politely, looking at Celene.
Celene paused, set down her fork, and gave Raina a cold stare.
"It tastes exactly how I expected your cooking to taste."
Then she added, "Tasteless."
Everyone at the table laughed.
Raina's smile dropped.
Her stomach twisted. Her face felt hot. She looked down at her plate. She knew the food tasted fine. She had checked it a hundred times. But no one cared about the food. They just liked putting her down.
She turned to Zayn.
He wasn't even paying attention. He wasn't looking at her at all.
Instead, his eyes were locked on the door.
Raina looked too — and saw her stepsister Kiara walking into the room.
Everything shifted. The air. The attention. The energy.
Kiara walked in like a model, like the party had just started because of her. She was an hour late.
"Darling, you look fabulous!" Celene said immediately, her voice full of love.
"I'll say," Zayn added, whistling. "Look at those hips."
His eyes didn't even try to hide it. He looked her up and down like Raina didn't even exist.
Kiara smiled. "It's just something I put together," she said, sitting down next to Zayn. "I haven't even paid the stylist yet."
"How much is it?" Zayn asked. "I'll pay."
Raina's head snapped toward him.
This morning, she had asked him for money to buy a dress. Nothing fancy. Just something nice. He had rolled his eyes and called her a gold digger.
"Wear what you already have," he had said. "Why are you always begging?"
Kiara looked at him. "It's nothing much. Just twenty-five million dollars."
Zayn waved his hand. "That's nothing. Send me their contact."
Kiara squealed, stood up, and sat right on Zayn's lap.
"Thank you so much," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him just next to his mouth.
Raina just sat there, frozen.
No one said a thing. Some looked at her chuckling quietly.
She tried to laugh it off. "What about me, honey? I need to pay my stylist too," she said, forcing a small laugh.
Zayn looked at her like she'd said something stupid. "What does that have to do with me?"
The table chuckled again.
Then Mr Johan — one of Zayn's old executives — leaned forward.
"You don't even look like you used a stylist," he said with a grin. "Your looks don't even come close to Miss Kiara over here."
Raina's stomach dropped.
He looked straight at her chest. No shame.
"But that doesn't mean I wouldn't want to see you bent over my office desk," he added.
The laughter stopped.
Raina stood up so fast her chair scraped the floor.
"Mr Johan!" she snapped. "That's disgusting! You can't talk to me like that!"
Before she could say another word, Zayn stood up and —
SLAP!
Zayn's hand hit her face hard. The sound echoed across the room.
Her cheek burned.
Her hand went up to her face. She looked at him, shocked.
"Z-Zayn…"
He didn't even blink.
"Who do you think you are," he said, loud and angry, "to speak to Mr Johan like that?"
Raina stared at him, confused and shaking.
"Did you not hear what he just said to me?" she asked. Her voice was trembling. "He disrespected me—"
SLAP!
Another one. Even harder.
She gasped, almost lost her balance.
"I said, I don't care!" Zayn shouted. "He is a respected member of my board. You will treat him with respect."
Tears filled her eyes.
She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry…"
He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her closer.
"I don't need your useless apology," he said through clenched teeth.
Then his voice went louder for the whole room to hear:
"Now go to Mr Johan, kneel before him and beg for his forgiveness."