His for a year. - Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Murmurs rippled through the hall like a wave.
I stayed frozen on the floor, one hand pressed to my cheek, my eyes widened as I looked at the stunned faces staring back at me. The echo of the slap still rang in the air like a cruel bell. Music faltered. Conversations dropped. Some phones were pointed out in my direction.
The glittering lights above seemed too bright now, like they were spotlighting my shame.
Zade stood several feet away, stunned—his brows drawn, lips parted, chest heaving. His eyes darted from me, crumpled and trembling, to Zara, whose hand still hovered in the air.
His jaw clenched. A war flickered in his expression. Then, without a word, he stormed toward us.
“Zara,” his voice was low.
She turned, her chin raised high, no remorse in her eyes. “Don’t start.”
But Zade didn’t listen. He grabbed her arm and began pulling her away from the crowd. “Let’s go. Now.”
“Zade—”
“I said now!” His voice thundered across the room, making even the whispers cease.
As they disappeared around a corner, I blinked rapidly, trying to calm the burn behind my eyes. My ears rang, heart thumping wildly in my chest. I reached for the floor, steadying myself, trying to rise with whatever dignity I had left.
Then a hand appeared in front of me. Ray.
His eyes were heavy with pity, he didn't say a word. He just helped me up, slow and gentle, like I was fragile.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he murmured, placing a firm hand on the small of my back as he led me toward the exit, then to the basement carpark.
But we didn’t make it far.
“Get your damn hands off my wife!”
Zade’s voice sliced through the moment like a blade.
We both turned.
He was standing by the car now, with Zara by his side, his fists balled, face dark with fury—not at Zara this time, but Ray.
I blinked, startled.
Ray’s hand immediately dropped. He took a careful step back.
“I was just helping—” Ray started.
“She doesn’t need you to help her.” Zade’s glare could burn metal. “Next time you touch her, I’ll break those damn hands.”
I sucked in a breath, stepping slightly in front of Ray. “Zade, please stop. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
Zade’s eyes flicked to me, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he turned, pulled open the car door, and gestured sharply for me to get in.
Without another word, I slipped inside, still trembling, still stinging. I didn’t dare look back at Ray. And Zade didn’t say a word either.
The car pulled away from the chaos of the launch.
“Why did you look at me like that when I told Ray to back off? He had no business touching you.” He asked after minutes of silence.
My jaw dropped. “He was helping me! Helping—because you didn’t, again.”
He let out a bitter laugh, his chest heaving. “You’re really defending him? That’s what this is now?”
“Oh my God.” I scoffed and turned my face to the window. “This isn’t about Ray.”
“It is when he’s always hovering around you like a damn shadow. You think I haven’t noticed?”
“Isn't that his duty? You assigned him to be my literal shadow, always following me around!”
“He's supposed to be a guard, guarding your body not touching it!” He snapped.
I couldn't take it anymore, this back and forth about Ray while he ignored the major issue.
“You just stood there!” I finally burst, my voice rising to match the storm inside me. “In front of all those people—your sister slapped me, and you stood there like you didn’t know what to do.”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I didn’t know she’d go that far!”
“You didn’t even come to me!” My voice cracked. “You dragged her away, like I didn’t matter. Like I wasn’t the one humiliated in front of an entire launch event!”
He slammed a palm against the wheel. “Don’t turn this around on me, Olive!”
“Turn what around? I was the one on the floor!”
He didn’t respond after that.
The rest of the ride was silent—violent, heavy silence. The kind that screamed louder than words.
When we arrived home, he didn’t open my door. He didn’t follow me in. He just parked and started walking away, pulling his neck tie like it'd offended him.
I stepped out and walked to my room, angry and ashamed.
My phone rang just as I slipped into my nightgown. It was Aliyah.
I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I just watched the screen light up with her name, the ringtone slicing through the silence until it stopped on its own.
I stared at the phone, heavy in my palm, wondering what I could possibly tell her. What words could patch this kind of wound?
Then a notification buzzed.
Aliyah: “I saw the clips. I know you don’t want to talk now but text me, please. Are you okay?”
I dropped the phone on the nightstand like it had burned me.
Then curled into myself, like a cat retreating from the cold.
But the tears didn’t come.
Just… flashbacks. Sharp and unrelenting.
Zara’s hand slicing the air. The gasps from the crowd. Zade’s behaviour. Ray’s arm helping me up. The cameras. The whispers. The humiliation.
I felt like the ghost of someone who used to be strong. The thought of facing the world again made my skin crawl. I had become a punchline. A trending topic.
Anna was probably kicking her feet in excitement right now.
I turned over, then over again, trying to wring the thoughts from my head. But they stayed. Like stains.
Zade didn’t come to check on me. Not a knock. Not a text. Not even a crumb of human decency.
Finally, I gave in. Reached for my phone.
TikTok. Why not ruin myself fully?
The moment the app opened, the first video slapped me in the face:
@GlamorGistHQ: Zade Avner’s wife slapped during company’s product launch. #drama #luxurylife #ZadeAvner #celebrity
The video looped mercilessly—me getting turned, the slap, the stagger, the fall, the crowd.
I hesitated, then opened the comment section.
They were brutal.
“Could NEVER be me!! Imagine getting slapped and your man does nothing??”
“She’s giving gold-digger energy and karma came knocking.”
“Zara been waiting to do that, you can see it in the wind-up”
“That dress alone was a crime, sorry not sorry.”
“I feel bad for her tho. No one deserves that, fr.”
“She didn’t even react. She must’ve been paid to keep quiet. That’s not a wife, that’s a prop.”
“Zade fumbled HARD. This whole thing screams PR stunt gone wrong.”
“Somebody check on her, she looked like she wanted to disappear.”
"Imagine being treated like a maid as a billionaire wife, eww."
The screen blurred.
It wasn't rage this time. It wasn't even humiliation.
It was grief.
Grief for whatever dignity I thought I had. For the little girl inside me who once believed in people like Zade. Who wanted to be loved and chosen and safe.
I hadn't finished dealing with the physical words hurting me, and now, online bullying had taken over. There's no escaping this now. I didn't think I could ever forget the humiliation.
My chest heaved as the sob finally broke through. And then another. And another.
I curled deeper into the blanket and let myself fall apart, silently, violently. No one was coming to comfort me.
So I held myself.
_ _ _
I sat quietly on the edge of the bed, a dull ache blooming in my cheek and behind my eyes. I had cried myself to sleep.
A soft knock came at the door. A maid entered politely. “Morning Ma’am… Mrs. Avner requests your presence for dinner tonight.”
Of course.
“Thank you,” I murmured, my stomach knotting.
I waited until the door closed before exhaling shakily. A dinner with Zade, Zara, and his mother. Perfect.
Like sitting in a lion’s den dressed in raw meat.
My reflection in the mirror stared back with hollow eyes. I traced the faint redness on my cheek from the night before and whispered to myself, “Just survive.”
I sat quietly near the end of the table, trying to make myself as invisible as possible. I smoothed my dress again and again under the table, my fingers twitching against the silky fabric. My elbow still ached faintly from the fall, but that pain had nothing on the invisible bruises inside me.
Everyone was here but Zade.
Of course he wasn’t.
At the head of the table, Eloise Lloyd lifted her glass, and with it, the entire room hushed.
“I called this dinner,” she began, her voice calm and precise, “to discuss what happened at the launch.”
Everyone’s eyes subtly shifted toward me. My pulse quickened.
Eloise’s gaze was sharp, her voice void of warmth. “What happened last night was disgraceful. A public scene, in front of cameras, shareholders, business partners…”
“She made my brother slap me!” Zara cut in suddenly, her voice trembling with rage. “He has never, ever raised a hand to me before. And then—because of her—he does it because she came into his life!” She yelled.
I flinched.
It finally hit me.
Zade hadn’t just dragged her away to end the scene—he did it to protect me. He stood up to his sister, raised his voice, even slapped her... because of me.
And I hadn’t seen it.
Maybe he didn’t want me to. Maybe he’s too proud, too broken to admit it—but somewhere beneath all that ice and anger... he does care.
He just doesn’t know how to show it.
Or maybe... he doesn’t want to.
“I understand tempers can rise,” Eloise continued, unbothered by the interruption. “But what we cannot afford is a family scandal. We shouldn't give ideas to the public. Olive…” She looked at me like I was a child who broke something expensive. “You are now a part of this family. This is what you signed up for. You must understand that loyalty, silence, and grace are required—especially in moments like that.”
My lips parted, then closed again. The news about my father and her husband hadn't reached her yet, maybe that was why she was so calm and collected.
Not one word of sympathy. Not even a glance of concern.
Zara shook her head and muttered, “She’s weak. She doesn’t belong in this family.”
A few seats down, one of Zade's cousins cleared his throat like he agreed.
I felt it all again—the slap, the gasps, the clicking of phones recording, the helplessness in my limbs. But then… I remembered Zade, standing up for me.
I opened my mouth again to say something—but the double doors burst open.
Every head turned.
Zade stood there.
He didn’t look calm. His tie was half-untied, his shirt wrinkled like he’d been pacing for hours. His jaw was clenched. His eyes, dark and unreadable, scanned the table until they landed on me.
He stared for a moment, then moved his gaze to everyone on the table as he spoke.
“Don’t talk to my wife like that,” he said coldly, his voice cutting through the dining hall like a blade. “Not ever again.”
The table fell into stunned silence. Eloise stood like she was watching an unbelievable movie scene.
Zade walked over slowly, eyes fixed on mine. When he reached me, he offered his hand.
Gentle. Silent. I couldn't reject it.
My throat burned as I placed my hand in his, and he pulled me to my feet. Not a word was said, but the message was clear—she’s mine to protect.
He held my hand so firm, not possessively, but like a barrier from the world.
And then, in front of his shocked family, he turned us both around and led me out of the suffocating room.