Finding Myself

"Help! Help!"

I woke up in a panic, gasping for air, staring at the familiar surroundings and the person sleeping beside me, frozen in bed.

My mind was still trapped in the nightmare where my husband, Kristopher Meyer, was choking me, hurling insults at me.

My mother-in-law, Cecelia Meyer, and my son, Jeffrey Meyer, watched coldly.

"Kristopher, strangle me to death if you dare. I will divorce you even if I die!"

I was furious, but the disparity in strength between us was too great. All I could do was grip Kristopher's hand tightly.

The next moment, Kristopher slapped me without a hint of mercy.

My head was slapped to the side, and my ears experienced tinnitus several times before I recovered. I still stared at the hideous man.

Kristopher came from a rural background. We met in college and fell for each other instantly.

Kristopher was considerate and pampered me in everything. Everyone praised me for being lucky and said I had found a good man.

After graduating from university, Kristopher finally got a job in a listed company.

Once it was raining heavily, and I went to pick up Kristopher to take him home. Kristopher felt sorry for me and took care of me.

His colleagues witnessed this, and Kristopher earned a reputation as a devoted husband.

The company's CEO, who also adored his wife, took notice of Kristopher.

In this way, Kristopher climbed all the way. Now was a critical period. He was unwilling to break up with me, but he was also afraid that I would make trouble and destroy him completely.

"You bitch, you have no shame and no figure. What are you fussing about now?" Kristopher spat at me viciously. "Don't try any of your schemes, Marissa Ward. You're nothing, so behave yourself. What? Do you want to go out and complain? Who do you think you are? Just be a good housewife, okay?"

With that, Kristopher tossed me onto the floor without a second thought.

My head hit hard, and a wave of dizziness overwhelmed me.

Afterward, Kristopher disdainfully wiped his hands with a tissue and tossed it onto my face. "Behaving yourself is best for everyone."

Despite the intense pain, I stubbornly tried to get up.

"Mom, can you stop causing trouble? Are we going to eat or not?" My eight-year-old son, eating ice cream, watched indifferently as I lay on the floor, showing no intention to help, even complaining about me.