Caught Him Cheating My Life Restarted (Natalie) novel Chapter 71

The crack of a whip echoed through the line.

“You damn woman, you talk too much! Itching for another beating, are you?”

“Martin Doyle, if you dare lay another hand on my mother, you won’t get a single cent from me!”

“Give me the money, and the beating stops. I’ll even treat her like a queen.”

“Martin Doyle, I’ll send you a hundred thousand now. I’ll figure out the rest.”

“That’s my good girl. Wire it over right away. I’ll go buy some ointment for your mother’s bruises. And she loves roasted chicken legs—I’ll get some for her.”

Natalie slammed the phone down, her hand trembling with rage. Martin Doyle wasn't a man; he was a monster.

She had tried countless times to get her mother to leave that house, but her mother always refused.

She'd say that before the gambling addiction took hold, he had been good to her. His business failed, and the shock of it all had pushed him over the edge. She was convinced he could change, that the man she married was still in there somewhere.

It was a woman’s lot in life, she’d say. For better or for worse.

If they were to be buried together in death, how could they possibly live apart? A hard life was simply her fate.

No matter how hard Natalie tried, she could never change her mother’s mind.

After she married Darren, Martin had settled down a bit. He even opened a small convenience store.

Those five years had been relatively peaceful. She never imagined he would fall back into his old ways, and this time, it was even worse.

She had to find a job, and fast. She needed to earn more money and find a way to get her mother and sister out of there.

This time, she wouldn't take no for an answer. She would drag her mother away from that demon, whether she agreed or not.

……

The next day.

Natalie contacted several branches of the Everwell Traditional Therapy Clinic, hoping for an interview.

He was claiming she beat him. That she beat him for being close to Marie!

How could he tell such a monstrous lie?

And the bruises on his arms… they were fake. It had to be special effects makeup.

Up close, you’d surely be able to tell. Which meant the host was in on it, too. This was a setup.

But why? What were they trying to do?

The crowd around her gasped, their murmurs turning into a chorus of sympathy and outrage.

“That poor little boy! He’s adorable. How could his mother beat him like that?”

“And just because he’s close to his aunt? That’s sick. What a twisted woman.”

The host dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Young Mr. Cross, your story is just heartbreaking. Who would ever imagine that the heir to the Cross family could be a victim of abuse? And that the abuser… is his own mother. When she was hitting you, did anyone in your family know?”