“Move,” my husband hissed, his fingers crushing my wrist.
I instinctively steadied my belly. “Please—our baby—” I whispered.
Then came the crack.
His palm split across my cheek so loudly that the sound ricocheted through the atrium. Conversations stopped. A child began to cry. My skin burned, but worse was the humiliation—public, deliberate.
“Stop embarrassing me,” Ethan spat, nodding toward the woman beside him as if she owned the ground I stood on.
And then he lifted his hand again.
The Man With Two Faces
My name is Claire Cole.
The man who had just slapped me was Ethan Cole—celebrity CEO, keynote darling, master of charming headlines and shaking hands. The man who smiled for cameras and tightened his grip only when the doors were closed.
I had come to Northgate Mall for one thing: a last-minute stroller my doctor insisted I buy before my third trimester swelling worsened. I had chosen to go alone.
