Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 202 - Two Hundred And Two

She stood by the vanity table, her hands gripping the edge so tightly her knuckles were white. She was trembling, not from fear, but from a rage so pure and cold it felt like ice in her veins. She looked at the man on the bed.

Carlos, the man she had sacrificed everything for—her dignity, money, her future—was lying there, dirty and indifferent, as if he hadn’t just destroyed their lives with his incompetence.

She scoffed. It was a harsh, ugly sound that broke the silence like a dropped glass.

"I was blind," Ashlyn said, her voice dripping with venom. "I was blind to think you could amount to anything. To think you had real talent. To think you had brains."

She shook her head slowly, looking at him as if he were a particularly stupid dog that had soiled the rug.

"I thought I was investing in a diamond," she spat. "But I was just polishing a piece of coal. A useless, dirty rock."

Carlos ignored her. He didn’t even flinch. He sat on the edge of the bed and yanked off his muddy boots, dropping them onto the expensive rug with a dull thud. He lay back, crossing his arms behind his head, closing his eyes as if he were about to take a nap. His arrogance was suffocating. It filled the room.

Ashlyn couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t stand his indifference. She wanted him to hurt. She wanted him to feel the same crushing weight of failure that was pressing down on her chest.

She walked to the foot of the bed. Her steps were heavy, deliberate.

"Now," she said, her voice sharp and clear, slicing through the air. "You can’t even match Derek."

The name hung in the air. Derek. The brother he envied. The brother who had won everything. The brother who was now the Grand Duke, the Commander, the hero.

Carlos’s eyes snapped open.

He sat up slowly. The lazy, dismissive look was gone. In its place was a cold, simmering fury. She had hit him where it hurt the most. She had touched his deepest insecurity, the open wound of his jealousy.

He glared at her. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles under them from days of hard labor and sleepless nights.

He swung his legs off the bed and stood up.

He walked toward her slowly, his movements predatory. He looked her dead in the eyes.

Ashlyn didn’t back down. She stood her ground, her chin raised, looking unfazed. She was tired of being afraid of him. She was tired of walking on eggshells. She was tired of everything.

Carlos stopped right in front of her. He was taller than her, broader. He bent down slightly, bringing his face close to hers. His breath smelled of stale bread and dirt.

"What... did... you... just... say?" he asked.

He said each word like a separate syllable, his voice low and dangerous, a rumble in his chest that vibrated in the quiet room.

Ashlyn, fed up with him, fed up with the lies, fed up with the failure, challenged him. She returned his look with one of pure, unadulterated contempt.

"Derek passed the assessment effortlessly," she said, her voice steady. "He walked in, he spoke, and he conquered. He is the Commander. He is the hero of the family. The King praised him."

She paused, letting the comparison sink in.

"And you?" she asked.

She looked him up and down, from his messy hair to his stained shirt, to his dirty socks. Her gaze was like a blow.

"You ruined your own promising future," she said, her tone disgusted. "You had everything handed to you. Money. Support. A wife who did everything for you. And you threw it away because you were too lazy to read a book. You bribed a man because you were too stupid to learn."

She laughed, a bitter, broken sound.

"You are pathetic," she whispered.

SLAP!

Carlos’s hand moved faster than she could track. He hit her across the face with the back of his hand. The slap was hard, brutal. Her neck snapped to the side. She staggered, her hand flying to her burning cheek.

The room spun for a second. The pain was sharp and hot, radiating through her jaw.

She looked at him. Her cheek was throbbing, already swelling. She touched the corner of her mouth and saw a smear of blood on her finger.

Carlos was breathing hard, his chest heaving. He was angry. He pointed a shaking finger at her face.

"Shut your mouth," he sneered. "You witch. You drove me to this. You and your greed. You and your constant pushing."

Ashlyn slowly lowered her hand from her cheek. She stared at him, her eyes wide with shock that quickly turned to a murderous rage.

"You hit me?" she said. Her voice was quiet, deadly.

Carlos didn’t say anything. He just glared at her, his hands clenched into fists, ready to strike again. He didn’t look sorry. He looked satisfied.

Ashlyn didn’t wait.

She screamed. It was a sound of pure fury.

She slapped him back.

It wasn’t a graceful slap. It was a clawing, desperate strike. Her nails raked across his face, leaving three long, red lines on his cheek.

"You useless bastard!" she shrieked.

They collided. It wasn’t a fight between a husband and wife. It was a brawl. It was ugly.

Ashlyn tried to gorge his eyes out, her fingers hooked like talons. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to erase him. She grabbed his hair, pulling with all her might.

Carlos grabbed her wrists, trying to stop her. "Stop it! You crazy woman!"

He shoved her. He tried to pin her arms to her sides, but she kicked him in the shin. He grunted in pain, his grip loosening.

He lost his temper completely. He didn’t want to restrain her anymore. He wanted her off him. He wanted her gone.

He pushed her.

It was a hard, violent shove with both hands against her chest.

Ashlyn flew backward. She lost her footing on the rug. She stumbled, her arms flailing, trying to catch herself.

She fell.

She didn’t land on her back. She didn’t land on her side.

She fell belly-flat onto the hard wooden floor.

THUD. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

The sound of her body hitting the floor was sickeningly loud. It echoed in the silent room.

"Ugh!"

The air left her lungs in a rush. She lay there for a moment, stunned, her face pressed against the cold wood.

For a second, there was silence. Carlos stood there, panting, looking down at her. He rubbed his cheek where she had scratched him.

Then, Ashlyn groaned.

It was a low, guttural sound of agony. She clutched her stomach. A sharp, tearing pain ripped through her abdomen. It felt like something inside her had snapped. It was a pain unlike anything she had ever felt before.

"My..." she gasped, curling into herself.

Carlos watched her. He thought she was faking it. He thought it was another one of her dramas.

"Get up," he said, his voice devoid of sympathy. "Stop acting. You are not hurt."