Betrayed by My Trash Husband, Surrender Myself to the Devil-Chapter 13: Naive Bitch

Claudia POV

"...And so what?" Miles’ reaction was far from what I expected. He showed no sign of distress, despite knowing that his daughter had been teetering on the edge of death last night. "It’s just a girl. What’s there to worry about?"

"Just a girl? What the fuck are you talking about?!" The more I talked to this man, the angrier I became. I never realized Miles could be so cold toward his own daughter—especially considering how loving he had always seemed when Aurora was around. "That’s your daughter! Miles, you... you are—"

"Am I what?" Miles sighed. He stood up and faced me.

He was taller than me—though not as tall as Ray.

But he was still menacing, especially with his beer belly and the bottle in his hand.

It reminded me of the time my own father punished me after Clarissa accused me of stealing her toy. He had hit my arm with a beer bottle so hard that the mark stayed on my skin even now.

As my mind replayed all the horrible abuse I endured growing up, Miles commented nonchalantly, "Like I said, it’s just a girl we can replace with a new one. Besides, Aurora’s been sickly since she was a baby. You should’ve just let her die back then—"

I didn’t wait for him to finish.

I raised my hand, intending to slap him for the insult he uttered to our daughter.

But before my hand could reach his face, he grabbed my wrist and struck my arm with the beer bottle—right where my father used to hit me.

"Ah!"

Miles released my wrist, and I stumbled backward, slamming into the drawer behind me.

Pain shot through my arm and waist. I clutched my bruised arm and glared at him, but Miles looked completely unbothered.

"God, that felt good," he muttered. "You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that."

My brain was short-circuiting as I struggled to make sense of what was happening in my life right now.

First, my husband and half-sister schemed to push my daughter down the stairs and framed me for it.

Then my own husband said he didn’t care about the daughter we had raised with so much effort for six years.

I never knew he harbored such hatred toward Aurora, because in front of her—and everyone else—he always looked like a loving father who tried his best to squeeze some time despite his busy schedule.

And on top of that, I never knew he was the type to hit his wife.

His honesty and sincerity were the very reasons I married him in the first place, because I thought he was different from my father.

Was all of it a lie? Or did he change somewhere along the way?

"Don’t look at me like I just hit you for no reason," Miles said before chugging his beer again. He pointed the bottle at me and continued, "It’s just self-defense. Self. Defense. Got it? You attacked first, so I had to hit you, or I’d get hurt."

I held back my tears.

When my father hit me, I never cried. I knew Clarissa and my stepmother enjoyed watching me break down.

If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have shown any weakness.

But the betrayal I felt from this man was too much, and tears pooled at the corners of my eyes despite my efforts.

"Why are you doing this to Aurora... and to me, Miles?" I asked desperately, foolishly thinking there was still something left to salvage. I was thinking there could be at least some part of the Miles that I knew and loved for more than a decade.

But once again, I was wrong.

"Why?" Miles sighed. "I just think you’re past your due date, Claudia. You’re not some tight virgin anymore, so you don’t get to be willful."

"You act like you own the house—complaining I’m never home, nagging me for missing Aurora’s useless school performances and shit," he continued, emboldened by the alcohol. "You’re just a fuckmaid who got lucky enough to be my wife. Being a doctor doesn’t mean you can look down on me!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I shot back. "This house is mine in the first place!"

"Our old house in the suburb was," Miles snapped. "You sold it so we could move here and registered this one under my name. So this is my house now. Besides, you were just some small-time doctor hopping from clinic to clinic. You’re no match for my caliber now."

"That job paid our bills and fed our family for years!" I argued. "I sent you money to help your business!"

"Your measly salary was never enough to make me successful," Miles sneered. "I had a rich investor backing me after struggling nonstop for years. Do you really think your pocket change helped? That money was barely enough to buy my lunch!"

"But that was... my entire savings..." I whispered, forcing myself not to cry any harder.

I thought about all the years I lived frugally—stretching every paycheck to pay bills, buy food, and save money for his business.

It was exhausting. But I did it out of love.

"Well, your savings meant nothing," Miles shrugged. "So don’t try to guilt-trip me into paying you back. Do you really think you could rule over a man just because you gave him a bit of money? Oh, you naive bitch."