Chapter One: The Slap That Shook The Ballroom!

Vanessa's POV.

I didn't plan to slap him. I swear, I didn't.

But then I discovered the secret he had been hiding from me all along. I lost it, and my palm met his cheek with a sound that cracked the entire ballroom.

My hand trembled, but I refused to lower it. Let them watch. Let them whisper. Let the media eat it all up. Cameras flashed like fireworks, and journalists sprang to their feet, but I didn't care.

I stared at my husband with my eyes cold and my hands still burning from the impact of the slap. 

He touched his face slowly; he was stunned.

“Vanessa—” he began. But I cut him off with a tap on my phone.

The voice note echoed through the ballroom speakers, slicing through the air like a blade.

“I want your wife to know that I'm one month pregnant with your child. I'm tired of hiding.”

The voice wasn't just anyone's. It was Sabrina’s. My best friend. And she was standing right there in her emerald gown with her lips curled up in a devilish smirk, and then I turned to face my husband.

“You have humiliated me enough, Damon. But this? This is the end.”

He opened his mouth, but I didn't let him speak. Not yet.

“I don't tolerate betrayal,” I said with a steady voice. “We are done with the so-called fucking relationship we shared together. I want a divorce.” I announced, and I could hear the gasps that filled the room.

Phones were recording, and whispers were spreading like wildfire. 

Damon chuckled bitterly, and then he ran a hand through his hair like I was amusing him.

“A divorce?” he said. “Really, Vanessa? You think you can just walk away?”

I pulled off my wedding ring and threw it in his face so he could get his answer. “Yes.”

He laughed louder this time. “And where do you think you are going to go? Who do you think will want you now? Three years of marriage and not even one child.

When I heard him say that to me, my throat tightened and my stomach twisted inside of me.

“You are barren, Vanessa,” he continued. “You couldn't give me a family. And you think you can just divorce me and move on like that?”

“The doctor said I am perfectly fine, Damon Thorne. Every test came back normal. But you never once checked yourself, did you?” I replied to him as I balled my hands into a tight fist, but he didn't respond.

“Because it was easier to blame me,” I whispered. “To make me feel broken. Less of a woman.”

Damon stepped closer to me, trying to lower his voice. “You should be grateful. Sabrina is pregnant now. We can raise the child together. She can move in, and we can all live as one happy family. The baby can even call you mummy.” He voiced out, and my chest burned.

I turned to look at Sabrina, and she looked like she was proud of the scene in front of her.

“Don't look at me like that, Vanessa. I didn't want to miss this moment,” she said sweetly, her eyes locked on Damon.

“After everything I have done for you,” I said. “After all the memories, the secrets, the love I showered on you. You stab me in the back like this?”

“You can't blame me either, so please just save all your pity words. It's not my fault I found comfort in your husband; I mean, the baby's already halfway here.” she said, rubbing on her stomach, and I slapped her hard across her face.

She didn't flinch. She just smiled and straightened her dress, then she looked me straight in the eye.

“Are you done?” she asked coldly.

“Do you have any shame left inside of you?

“Do you have a child?” She retorted at me, and her words sliced through the air like a dagger. Damon muttered her name in a warning, but Sabrina just kept on going.

“I mean, three years and nothing? Maybe you are not the prize you think you are, Vanessa Roothmoore. Maybe he just needed someone fertile.”

“I gave you everything, Sabrina. I paid your rent and got you into events. I even introduced you to him as my best friend—”

“And I gave him what you couldn't,” she snapped.

Reporters were already creeping towards the door. I could hear the faint sound of shutters, whispers, and recording devices clicking on. And Sabrina raised her voice deliberately.

“This baby is his, and Damon wants to be a part of its life. If that bothers you—” she paused, then smirked at me. “You can walk away, and I will take your place.”

“You will never be me.” I said, inhaling slowly.

“Good,” she said, flashing a smile at me. You are barren, bitter, and boring, so I will pass.”

The rage exploded in my chest like fireworks. I stepped closer until we were face-to-face.

“You will never wear my ring.” I said, and she tilted her head.

“But I will be sleeping in your matrimonial bed tonight,” she announced, and the cameras were relentless now. Reporters shouting questions.

“Vanessa Roothmoore. Is it true you have been married for three years without a child?”

“So is the heiress of the Roothmoore Conglomerate barren?”

“Will you be raising Sabrina's child as your own now?”

Questions from different directions were thrown at me as they all filled my ears, and I finally turned towards them.

“I am not barren,” I said loud and clear. “The doctors say I'm healthy. But even if I wasn't, my worth is not tied to a womb.”

The crowd went silent.

“You want a headline?” I continued. “Here it is. I gave my loyalty to a liar, my friendship to a snake, and my love to a man who didn't deserve it. But today, I'm taking it all back.”

Damon looked stunned, and the press didn't know whether to cheer or keep filming. I pulled out my phone and lifted it to my ear.

“Lawrence?” I said calmly. “File the divorce papers. Tonight.”

And with that, I walked past them. Past the flashing cameras. Past the whispers and pitying stares.

My heels clicked against the marble, each step louder than the last. My heart was pounding, my chest tight, but my spine was straight.

This was my downfall, yes.

But it was also the beginning of something new. 

Because the slap wasn't just rage.

It was a goodbye. 

And God help them both. This was only the beginning.