Chapter 1

At Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law, Linda Combs, was at it again, praising my husband Steven Combs's ex-wife, Freya Adams, for the tenth time.

She kept going on about how Freya always cooked the best roast ham, while all I ever did was order takeout.

I put down my fork and flashed her a smile. "If she's really that amazing, then why did she dump your son?"

Before I could even finish, Steven slapped me across the face.

The sharp sound of the slap rang out, slicing through the noisy Christmas dinner. The whole table went dead silent.

I was too numb to feel any pain.

Steven, who always wore those gold-rimmed glasses and acted all refined, was now staring at me with wide eyes, his chest heaving.

His hand was still hovering in the air, shaking a little, the veins on the back of his hand standing out.

There wasn't a trace of regret in his eyes, just raw fury at being called out and having his mask ripped off.

"Joanna, how dare you talk to my mom like that? Are you out of your mind? Apologize right now." His roar cut through the ringing in my ears, scraping against my eardrums like a dull knife.

Linda, the one who started it all, was clutching Steven's arm and saying, "Let it go, Steve. Don't stoop to her level. It's Christmas," but her face was twisted with smug, triumphant satisfaction.

Her eyes were brimming with contempt and satisfaction, like she was taking pleasure in smashing a decoration, which she always thought was an eyesore.

Yeah, to her, I was just a piece of decoration.

I pulled in a seven-figure salary and gave her son a cushy life, but in her eyes, I was still a nuisance, never as "obedient" as her favorite ex-daughter-in-law, Freya.

I slowly turned my stiff neck, scanning the whole table of so-called "family."

Steven's uncle, Brock Combs, just kept his head down, stuffing his face like he couldn't see a thing.

His aunt clutched her kid even tighter, her eyes darting away from mine.

All those people who used to greet me with smiles and brag about how capable I was were now frozen in fear, as if I'd suddenly turned toxic.

Their silence cut deeper than Steven's slap or Linda's smug grin, like an invisible knife.

Each slice slowly carved up every bit of hard work and self-delusion I'd poured into this family for the past three years.

After three years, I thought all my patience, all my sacrifices, and the faking and backing down I did to keep the peace would get me even a little bit of respect. Turned out, it was nothing but a cruel joke.

I didn't cry, and I didn't throw a fit.

While everyone expected me to break down or go hysterical, I just stood up, quiet and collected. The scrape of the chair legs against the floor was sharp and jarring.

Everyone's eyes locked onto me, shock, confusion, and a bit of anticipation, like they were waiting for the drama to unfold.

I picked up my coat from the back of the chair and grabbed my handbag.

The whole time, I moved with the same cool composure as if I was just excusing myself from some boring corporate dinner.

"Joanna Arias, stop right there. Where do you think you're going?" Steven's voice roared behind me.

I didn't look back as I walked straight to the door, ignoring their stunned and confused stares, and opened the door of the house where I used to call home.

Slamming hard, I shut out all the noise, the lies, and the filth behind me.

In the elevator, the polished mirror reflected my face. My left cheek was swollen, and five distinct finger marks, red and purple, showed what a humiliation I had been through.

I stared at the reflection in the mirror, the wreck of a woman staring back at me.

And then, I smiled. It wasn't bitter, and it wasn't self-deprecating. It was a real, freeing laugh, straight from the heart, like I was finally free. It felt so good.

That slap was exactly what I needed to snap out of it.

My phone started blowing up. It was Steven, firing off text after text like he was out for blood. [Joanna, who do you think you are? Storming out on Christmas, huh?]

[I'm telling you. I've been way too generous. Get your ass back here and apologize to my mom, or this won't end well.]

[Where the hell do you think you're going, wandering around at night? You're just a woman. You'll come crawling back to me anyway. Don't act like you don't need me.]

I stared at those filthy messages, expressionless. With a swipe of my finger, I blocked Steven's number without a second thought. The world was quiet again.

I wasn't stranded or homeless as Steven imagined. And I didn't go back to my parents either. I didn't want them worrying about me on Christmas.

I drove across the city, pulling up to a high-end apartment complex that Steven and his whole family had no clue even existed.

This was my own place, bought outright with my savings before the wedding. It was my secret base and escape route.

Steven was a social climber, raised by an overbearing single mother, into a full-grown man-child. I always knew marrying him was nothing short of a high-stakes gamble.

But me, Joanna Arias? I never gambled unless I was prepared for every outcome.

When I opened the door, the whole apartment was flooded with light, banishing every trace of winter's chill.

My best friend, Maggie Martin, had been waiting for me for a while. She was dressed in loungewear, holding a glass of red wine. When I walked in, she didn't bother with any unnecessary sympathy or surprise, just pointed at the table.

On the table was a bottle of chilled champagne and a fat envelope stuffed with papers.

She came over and lightly brushed my swollen cheek. Her eyes held concern, but even more, that look of "finally," like she'd known this day would come.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Not really," I shook my head, my face already numb. "It's just the price of finally seeing things for what they are."

Maggie smiled and pushed the envelope toward me.

I glanced at it. The cover had two bold black letters printed on it: Freya Adams, the so-called perfect, virtuous ex-wife they never shut up about, and who could never let go of Steven.

Maggie raised her glass, giving it a little shake, her eyes gleaming with excitement and a razor-sharp edge. "Jo, welcome home. Let the payback begin."