The Unwanted Wife's Return (Ex-Husband Wants Me Back) novel Chapter 133

TWENTY HOURS LATER: 

“Wake up, you stupid bitch!” 

Those were the first words I heard, and before I could process them, ice-cold water slammed into my face. The shock of it stole the air from my langs completely. I gasped violently, choking as my body jerked forward on pure/ instinct. My head throbbed like someone had taken a hammer to my skull, and pain exploded behind my eyes a consciousness slammed into me all at once. 

Everything hurts. Everything. 

Laughter echoed through the room, low and mocking and sickeningly familiar. My vision blurred in and out/as I struggled to focus, trying to understand where I was and what was happening to me. 

The room was dim, barely lit by a single bulb that flickered above me like something out of a horror movie, I tried to wipe the water from my face, desperate to see clearly, and that’s when I realized my arms wouldn’t move. 

Panic shot through me instantly. 

I looked down and saw my arms were tied behind the metal chair I was sitting on. The rope was cutting into my wrists so tightly I could already feel numbness spreading through my fingers. My clothes were soaked from the water, clinging uncomfortably to my skin and making me shiver. 

Where was I? How long had I been here? 

I blinked repeatedly, forcing my eyes to focus through the water still dripping down my face. And then I saw her. 

Janet. 

She stood directly in front of me, maybe five feet away. She’d changed since I’d last seen her. Her hair was neatly tied back in a sleek ponytail. Her makeup was flawless, perfectly applied like she was going to a photoshoot. She looked put together, Calm and very satisfied. 

Like she hadn’t just kidnapped me. Like she hadn’t struck me in a parking lot. Like she hadn’t dragged me into a trunk like I was garbage. 

The smile on her face made my stomach turn. 

But she wasn’t alone. 

My mother stood beside her, arms crossed, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read with cold indifference mixed. 

And behind them both, leaning casually against the concrete wall like he was watching some kind of street performance, stood my father. 

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