The Divorced Heiress Strikes Back Hard

SMACK!

The sound of the slap was a sharp, explosive crack. It echoed down Fifth Avenue, instantly slicing through the chaotic screaming and the rapid-fire clicking of the cameras.

The sheer physical force of the blow snapped Skyler's head violently to the side. The massive bouquet of red roses flew out of her hands, scattering crushed petals and broken stems across the dirty concrete.

Skyler gasped, a wet, choking sound. She slapped her hand over her rapidly swelling cheek. Her eyes went wide with pure shock.

"You bitch!" Skyler shrieked, her voice cracking into a hysterical pitch. "You hit me? !"

Evelyn's face was a mask of absolute ice. She didn't blink. She didn't hesitate. She shifted her weight, brought her arm back, and delivered a second, brutal backhand directly across the other side of Skyler's face.

The second slap was even louder.

Skyler stumbled backward. Her thin stiletto heel caught in the cracks of the pavement. Her ankle twisted sharply. She let out a pathetic cry and collapsed backward, landing hard on her ass right in the middle of the crushed red rose petals.

The entire pack of paparazzi went dead silent for one fractured second. Then, the crowd erupted. The flashes strobed so fast the street looked like a lightning storm.

Evelyn didn't look at the cameras. She calmly reached into her Birkin bag and pulled out a small, custom bottle of liquid hand sanitizer and a pure white tissue. She pumped the alcohol onto her right hand, slowly and methodically wiping the skin of her palm and fingers with the tissue, as if she had just touched something diseased.

She stood over Skyler, looking down at the woman trembling on the ground.

"That," Evelyn said, her voice dropping to a low, lethal register that carried perfectly in the sudden hush around them, "is to teach you how to speak to a Beaumont."

Skyler burst into loud, ugly sobs. Tears mixed with her thick foundation, leaving dirty streaks down her face. She twisted her body on the ground and looked up at Kalen, reaching a shaking hand toward him.

"Kalen!" she wailed. "Look what she did to me! Do something!"

Kalen didn't move an inch. He stood exactly where he was, his hands still casually resting in his pockets. He looked down at Skyler with absolute, chilling indifference. He didn't offer his hand. He didn't say a word to defend her.

Instead, Kalen slowly lifted his gaze from the crying woman on the ground and locked eyes with Evelyn.

Evelyn saw it instantly. The dark, twisted hunger in his eyes. He wasn't angry that she had hit his supposed mistress. He was fascinated. He was watching her chest heave, watching the violent energy radiating from her body, and he was enjoying it.

Skyler looked back and forth between them. When she saw Kalen staring at Evelyn with that dark, consuming intensity, the last shred of her delusion shattered. Her face crumpled in pure terror and despair.

Evelyn finished wiping her hands. She balled up the tissue and dropped it. It fluttered down and landed directly on Skyler's tear-stained face.

Evelyn leaned down slightly. She lowered her voice so only Skyler could hear the brutal truth.

"He is using you as a cheap dog to try and disgust me," Evelyn whispered, her words cutting like glass. "Did you really think you could fly up to a branch you don't belong on?"

Skyler's entire body shuddered. She pulled the tissue off her face, her mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out. She was completely broken.

Evelyn straightened her spine. She turned her head and looked directly at Kalen standing on the steps. Her ice-blue eyes were filled with pure, unfiltered contempt.

Kalen met her furious stare. The corner of his mouth twitched, curving up into a faint, incredibly dangerous smirk.

Evelyn let out a short, cold laugh. She didn't speak out loud. She just looked him dead in the eye and mouthed one single word.

Pathetic.

Kalen's smirk vanished. The muscles in his jaw locked. Inside his pockets, his large hands curled into tight fists. A violent surge of possessive heat flared in his chest, making his breathing hitch. He had to physically force his feet to stay planted on the concrete to stop himself from crossing the distance and dragging her against his chest.

Evelyn broke the eye contact. She slid her oversized black sunglasses back onto her face, hiding the adrenaline still burning in her eyes.

She turned her back on him. She walked toward the Maybach with steady, powerful strides. She moved like a queen who had just crushed an insect beneath her heel.

Ishmael immediately stepped forward, pulling the heavy rear door of the Maybach open. He placed a large hand over the roof of the car to protect her head.

Evelyn ducked and slid into the deep leather seat. The cool, quiet interior of the car instantly wrapped around her, easing the violent tension humming in her muscles.

Ishmael slammed the heavy door shut. The loud thud cut off the screaming paparazzi and the blinding flashes.

Kalen stood on the sidewalk. He watched the dark tinted window of the Maybach roll up, completely erasing Evelyn's cold profile from his sight.

He didn't look down at the woman still crying at his feet. He turned his head slightly toward his bodyguard.

"Get rid of her," Kalen ordered, his voice flat and dead. "If I ever see her face again, it's your job."

Bodhi nodded once. He stepped forward, grabbed Skyler by the upper arm, and hauled her off the ground like a ragdoll, dragging her away from the cameras.

The Maybach's massive V12 engine let out a low, powerful growl. The black car pulled smoothly away from the curb, merging into the heavy Manhattan traffic.

Kalen stood on the steps, staring at the empty space where the car had been. He pressed his tongue hard against the back of his teeth. The phantom sting of her anger still hung in the air, and he tasted the dark, twisted satisfaction of it.

Inside the Maybach, the city blurred past the windows.