The Morning After Our Wedding, My Husband Slapped Me—By Dinner, He Had Lost Everything
Chapter 2: The Call That Changed Everything
Chapter 2: The Call That Changed Everything
The moment the doors of my Tesla locked, my hands finally began to shake.
Not from fear.
From clarity.
I touched the swelling on my cheek, took a slow breath, and pressed the one number I had known by heart since childhood.
My father answered on the first ring.
"Maya?"
"I'm done."
There was a long silence.
Then he asked only one question.
"Did he hit you?"
"Yes."
Another silence.
"I'll take care of it."
"No," I said. "Let me."
He didn't argue.
"Then you have my full support."
I ended the call and drove straight to my apartment.
Not to cry.
To work.
Within an hour, my attorney arrived.
So did a forensic photographer who documented every bruise.
Then I logged into accounts Preston had never realized I controlled.
The luxury credit card he loved using?
An authorized-user card on my account.
Canceled.
The downtown apartment where he entertained clients?
The lease was in my name.
Notice delivered.
The luxury SUV registered through my family's holding company?
Remote access disabled.
Pickup scheduled.
By noon, Preston called.
Once.
Twice.
Ten times.
I ignored every call.
Then came the texts.
Baby, let's talk.
Mom was upset.
You overreacted.
You embarrassed everyone.
Finally:
You can't do this to me.
I smiled for the first time all day.
He still thought this was about breakfast.
May you like
It wasn't.
It was about consequences.
